Caroline Kenyon: Why I do not recognise Boris Johnson as my Prime Minster

Boris Johnson was declared Prime Minister of the United Kingdom last week.

I do not recognise him as such.

I do not respect the process by which he has claimed this high, privileged office and I regard him as a disgrace, a man who brings shame and dishonour upon our wonderful country.

I shall happily explain why.

He was voted in by 92,000 votes from members of the Conservative Party. This cohort was largely male, white, over 60 – wholly unrepresentative of this country of 66 million people – but also, hypocritically, included members as young as 15 who are not permitted to vote in elections.

More people voted in the poll to name our new polar research boat (result: Boaty McBoatface) than in this apparent coronation.

He has now declared that we will leave, deal or no deal, no ifs or buts, on 31 October. A man with NO mandate from the country to be our premier, tells us that we will take the most high-risk path that any Western, civilised nation has ever taken, a path that was never on the ballot paper, never discussed in the Referendum debate (“easiest deal in history”, “settled over a cup of tea in an afternoon” “exact same benefits”).

This is nothing more or less than a coup.

But it is not just the man’s political intent with regard to Brexit that means I do not recognise him.

I will not recognise a man of such moral bankruptcy, in both his private life or his public life, as my leader.

This is a man for whom the consequences of his actions are irrelevant, the pain of others of no significance so long as he gains what he, Boris Johnson, craves.

Victims of his narcissistic cruelty run from Nazanin Zaghari Ratcliffe, who was chained to bed in an Iranian psychiatric hospital last week, her prison sentence extended after Johnson’s lazy, incorrect statement as Foreign Secretary that she had been teaching journalism.

To Sir Kim Darroch, our former Ambassador to the United States who was forced to resign two weeks ago. His crime? Simply doing his job, as all ambassadors do, by reporting back to the UK the truth of the chaotic incompetence of the Trump administration, somehow mysteriously leaked to the press. But Johnson, so eager to ingratiate with Trump, refused to support our loyal representative and Darroch’s 40-year distinguished career ended overnight.

To his estranged wife and four children, deeply wounded by his repeated infidelities.

Add to the mix his blatant pandering to his paymasters. His leadership campaign attracted an astonishing £500,000 from hedge fund managers (who will make a killing when the pound collapses further on No Deal) and arms dealers, while his campaign managers included tobacco and sugar lobbyists.

It stinks to high heaven.

And that is before his cavalier attitude to public money. The disgusting scandal of the Garden Bridge which wasted £49 million of taxpayers’ money with absolutely nothing to show for it. That’s nothing to Johnson, who said of his £275,000 fee from the Daily Telegraph for his writing that it was “chickenfeed”.

But to a little business like mine, it would take an astonishing 2,000 years for us to generate that amount of tax. And for what? Nothing.

I do not and I will not recognise a man who has lied and cheated his way to the top. So, Mr Boris Johnson, as far as I am concerned, you are a squatter in Downing Street, with as little right to be there as if you had broken in with a camp bed and sleeping bag.

Not in my name.