Boris Johnson has, as expected, landed the nomination of the Conservative Party to be the next Mayor of London and by a thumping majority too. Whatever his flaws and the possibility that he may blow this extraordinary chance which has fallen in his lap, politics just got rather fun again.

That he is feared by the IRA-loving, dictator-hugging, newt-tickling Far Left embarrassment of an incumbent, Ken Livingston (so repulsive that even Tony Blair felt moved to have him booted out of the Labour Party) is evidenced by a string of particularly nasty little bits of ‘smeer & sneer’ worthy of the Master himself, one Alistair Campbell, most interesting Propaganda Guru since April 1945, that have been planted like a series of Improvised Explosive Devices designed to stop Boris on the road to London.

Boris should be flattered whilst remaining on the qui vive for further irruptions of such insurgent activity as he makes his would-be mayoral progress to City Hall for the campaign is sure to get ever dirtier, given that his reptilian opponent is crapping himself now that he has a real fight on his hands for the first time (Steve Norris having proved to be a limp apology for a Candidate). The Lizard senses a real danger that Boris will, because of his irrepressible Labrador approach to life, appeal to electors across the party spectrum who see in him someone with a genuine zest for life and politics, whose irrepressible enthusiasm should be tapped for the benefit of all Londoners, not just those that make up the present Mayor’s constituency.

Win or not (and win is what we hope, though I do not have a vote, being but a simple country boy), the prospect of a roller-coaster ride of an election between now and May when the polls take place, interspersed with some jolly japes (and Boris is right, politics ought to be fun from time to time) and some serious taking to task of the nasty piece of work who now crawls the sewers of the Metropolis, is one which enthrals, entices and beguiles.

Don’t let us down, Boris!

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