God, I love this country. There we were on Thursday afternoon with a sick dread roiling around our stomachs. The worst butterflies since exam results. Clutching at straws – or straw polls anyway. Unable to sleep peacefully until all was well on Friday morning (it’s going to be alright, isn’t it?) Pictures on the news of Gordon Brown and Ed Miliband made you nostalgic for a time when a Labour victory might mean you’d be a bit sad not downright terrified.
We believed in Boris, never doubted he was the one leader who could get us through this. But, so successfully had we been gaslighted into thinking a hung Parliament was likely by liberal-left presenters on the BBC, Channel 4 and Sky News, that our faith wobbled. And, in the words of the Christmas story, we were sore afraid.
The thought of Jews with their bags packed, ready to flee. The thought of a man who loves hate preachers getting the keys to Number 10. The thought of our children and grandchildren being indoctrinated in the Marxists’ mirthless creed. It was awful, awful. As the Chief Rabbi warned, “The very soul of the nation is at risk.”
I didn’t realise how anxious I was until, around mid-afternoon, I got an email. “There is now a significant probability the Conservatives will come first in Wales in both votes and seats,” it said. I actually started to cry at the thought of my valiant little homeland teaching its complacent Labour overlords a lesson. A friend called from Swansea and, amidst screams of laughter, confirmed that her ex-miner uncle had only gone and voted Tory and - get this - he loves Boris!
If Uncle Carl’s Boriscene conversion was anything to go by, then this wasn’t an election any more, it was a revolution. On Twitter, a Yorkshireman confirmed that locals were “coming down from the hills to see off the dark forces”.
Our people were rallying to save their country from the Corbynists. Quiet millions pulled on their coats, braved the rain and went down to the polling station for the fourth time in three years, if you please, to vote for Boris who promised that, this time, we would actually Get Brexit Done.
Well, the Remainers said they wanted a People’s Vote and they bloody well got one. And the people, they said, No:
No to that insufferably arrogant Remainer Parliament blocking the referendum result because they knew better.
No to Gina “Who the hell does she think she is?” Miller and her insufferable flicky hair.
No to the Remainer Supreme Court.
No to Question Time audiences seemingly packed with “unbiased” Momentum activists.
No to Jeremy Corbyn whose rightful place is selling copies of Socialist Worker outside Harringay station in a Leninist cap and a chequered Palestinian keffiyeh, not running this great nation of ours.
NO! Did you get it this time? Have we made ourselves clear?
For three and a half contemptuous years, a Remainer establishment assured us that all the stupid old Leave voters have died. Last night they found out we are still very much alive. It was the anti-Brexit forces that were about to breathe their last. Labour screwed over its traditional supporters and the traditional supporters screwed them right back from Bishop Auckland to Ynys Mon.
Oh, that exit poll! Will we ever forget the sense of joy’n’relief intermingled when it flashed up on the BBC? Immediately, I called my Jewish friend. “THANK GOD, THANK GOD,” she said, over and over, a lifelong Labour voter made politically homeless by the terrible Trots.
And….. breathe. We were safe. Safe! Hang on, what was that loud bang in the BBC studio? Huw Edwards looked concerned. Pop! It was the sound of the London metropolitan bubble bursting. Inside the bubble so obsessed were they about staying in the EU that they were willing to turn a blind eye to vilest antisemitism. They were prepared to magnify every downside of Brexit and play up any risk.
They failed to broadcast the dangers of Corbyn, whose patent unfitness for high office could have been sniffed out in seconds by Dilyn the dog. That charming, fluffy, semi house-trained little fellow, who accompanied his master, the charming fluffy, semi house-trained big fellow, to the polling station.
What a great victory this is for Boris Johnson. Who else could have fought the people’s corner so magnificently? Tied down like Gulliver in Lilliput with a hundred Parliamentary amendments; every which way he moved the buggers blocked him. But he did it; by George, he did it!
He looked so tired last night, those hooded eyes more recessed than ever, but still the spirit bubbled irrepressibly to the surface. They say that he cares about nothing and no one but himself. But the people believed in Boris and, in that believing, they have already made Boris better than before. As Labour seats tumbled, and Redcar turned to Bluecar, Falstaff became Henry V. “But if it be a sin to covet honour/I am the most offending soul alive.”
You might say that it was Boris’s finest hour, but I hope not. This is the beginning of the end for the Remainers, but it’s the start of something that could be extraordinary for Britain. Our Prime Minister already enjoys considerable affection, but he will be loved if he can pull off the trick of harnessing a post-Brexit economic boom to the vital cause of world-class public services.
Thank you to everyone across our great country who voted, who volunteered, who stood as candidates. We live in the greatest democracy in the world. pic.twitter.com/1MuEMXqWHq— Boris Johnson (@BorisJohnson) December 12, 2019
During the Telegraph’s charity phone-in, a fortnight ago, two readers – one a scientist, the other a doctor – told me that they don’t dare reveal at work that they vote Conservative or that they read this newspaper. That’s appalling and it needs to change. Labour is the Nasty Party now.
I feel so incredibly proud to be a Conservative today. Proud and emotional too. Our people have defied the vilest calumnies from the righteous, shrieking left to pull together and reach this historic crossroads in our history. But Boris, whatever you do, please, please don’t betray my Wales or the North-East and the Midlands which have taken such a remarkable leap of faith to vote Tory.
There is great poverty there and they need your help. If you reward them for their trust in you then an amazing new force, delivering social justice and economic prosperity for all, can be forged. Uncle Carl is counting on you, Boris bach.
This is the luckiest Friday the 13th ever. Those of us who were up to see that glorious, incredible exit poll will never forget the sheer elation of it. Just look at the map of the UK today. A few islets of red in a vast, beautiful sea of blue. The sheer force of the people’s will, like a great tide, swept away the Corbynistas who threatened our way of life, our tolerance, our decency, our everything.
I hope the Chief Rabbi is pleased. The soul of our nation is intact.