Balance of a real satire

If there were an increase in genuine satire, not even this one would begin to describe British politics in recent weeks. Liz Truss delivered a parody a few days before her departure. Two weeks ago, she posted a video to her Instagram account of leaving 10 Downing Street and driving off; the whole thing with trashy hip-hop. Underneath, she wrote: “We’re moving Britain.” It’s a classic in the genre of terrifying political crimes.

Liz Truss is a bundle of contradictions. She wanted to be prime minister, although it was predictable that she would already drown in a puddle. She was an EU lawyer who thought Brexit was a great idea for career reasons. As a student, she was an outspoken supporter of the Liberal Democrats and took a sharp turn to the right after graduation. “Some people have sex, drugs and rock and roll,” she later said of her college days. “I was with the Liberal Democrats. I’m sorry.” In the 1980s she took part in protest marches against Margaret Thatcher’s government, but this year she has adopted the Iron Lady’s styling and quirks.

How Truss lost to a lettuce

When it was clear that Truss would drive the economy against a wall at high speed, and Finance Minister Kami-Kwasi Kwarteng realized he would be fired, the Daily Star published a 60-cent salad with a wig on the front page, along with with a picture of the Prime Minister. At the same time, the newspaper set up a live stream to see who would make it to the sell-by date first – Liz or the lettuce. The salad won. “What cabbage can we expect to see on Downing Street next?” the newspaper asked in an editorial after the resignation.

Good question. Who would want this job? Who has the necessary level of narcissism? It’s easy to get to Boris Johnson, whose name is now being passed around. The big problem is that the Tory party has no one left for the job. There is Rishi Sunak – but there is also the racism that is common among the Tories and Sunak is Hindu. Even the youngest Treasury Secretary, Jeremy Hunt, who has been holding Liz’s hand all week to prevent her from retiring early, has said he won’t throw in his hat.

A touch of storming the Capitol

The prelude to the resignation overshadowed the golden age of Berlusconi’s Italian farce. Truss and Kwarteng’s mini-budget seemed rowdy, surreal, self-destructive. The two talked as if they had to save a country that had been in the wrong hands for far too long. Kwarteng spoke of a “slow decline” as if his party had not been in charge for the past 12 years. The chaos escalated as the week progressed. Wednesday night, after a vote in parliament, there were crazy scenes distantly reminiscent of the storming of the Capitol in Washington – only all involved were elected MPs, not QAnon guerrillas. There was pushing, pushing, yelling. Wendy Morton, the Tory leader in charge of factional discipline, resigned on the spot. Her deputy, Craig Whittaker, shouted to the assembled crowd, “I’m really mad and don’t give a shit.” To wrap things up, Suella Braverman announced her resignation as Secretary of the Interior. For those who don’t know who Braverman is, she is the daughter of Indian migrants and during her five-week tenure she preferred to protest against Indian migrants – until the Indian government made visa applications for British citizens practically impossible.

And yes, there’s another twist to this weird story: like all ex-prime ministers, Truss is also entitled to a maximum of £115,000 a year – the equivalent of 130,000 francs – for living within the so-called Public Duty Costs Allowance.

* Mark C. O’Flaherty lives in London and is a regular contributor to The Telegraph, The New York Times and Financial Times.