INTERVIEW: Boris Johnson MP

The day after the day before

by Jacqueline Alexander

Boris Johnson, MP for Henley and editor of the Spectator, is in fine form as I pull up outside the school where Boris is to speak to a class of sixth-form students. Both arms are raised in flamboyant style to catch my attention just in case I have missed the nest of white-blonde hair wandering across the car park.

It is the day after the day before. London is grappling with its status as the victim of a horrific series of synchronised terrorist attacks. The death toll is rising as we enter the school and the murmurs of suicide bombings are beginning to surface from the Underground that bore witness to the carnage.

As we wait in reception, Boris grabs an envelope and pen in the hope of writing a 'few notes for the kids'. It is no surprise that time for preparation has been thin on the ground. Boris was in London during the attacks and took to the streets in the afternoon to absorb the new atmosphere and assess the damage to his beloved London. The morning had been taken up with delivering one of his children to school as the normal mode of transport had been disrupted.

Before the pen can reach the paper, our host is greeting us and leading the way to the students awaiting the arrival of their local MP.

As Boris superfluously introduces himself, he launches into an eloquent and sensitive summary of events in London. Emotive language is used to express the feelings of many but fear, distress, terror and dismay are quickly followed by pride, dignity, determination and courage. The 'Blitz Spirit' is referred to as he builds a pathway towards the political reaction.

Pre-empting the questions of the audience, Boris asks if we are paying the price for the Iraq War but quickly points out that, whilst we were warned that our involvement in Iraq would undoubtedly heighten the risk of increased terrorism, 9/11 preceded the Iraq conflict.

"This was not an attack with an understandable or clearly defined grievance. This was an attack on Western values. An attack on Western civilisation."

Bringing the topic even closer to his political home, the debate on compulsory ID cards is slipped in as a natural consequence. Boris, vociferously against compulsory ID cards, expresses his hope that the horrific events are not used for the benefit of the political agendas of those in favour.

"This is not a matter of identity. This is a matter of intention. ID cards would have played no role in preventing this attack."

"Freedom and liberal values must be protected. We must resist all erosions of liberty. The terrorists want to see our freedoms reduced - in some ways, this would make us more like them."

New subjects are introduced to prompt the questions and answers session. A butterfly appears. Flitting easily between a facetious humour and, when challenged, a politically correct response, Boris answers each question with the reaction he feels it deserves.

Asked if there is a potential conflict between his role as Editor of the Spectator and MP for Henley and Boris delivers a sharp and somewhat disdainful denial. Noting the crestfallen expression of the questioner, the response is softened with a smile and a gently delivered, "No, not at all."

En route to the next appointment in Boris' constituency diary, I am occupying the passenger seat of a people carrier - it is also a carrier of Noddy tapes, crisp packets, empty bottles of soft drinks, itineraries, constituency leaflets, toys, books and CD's from Beethoven to Rock Guitar Rhythms. I am in colourful company in more ways than one!

After a false start at the beginning of his career, the one-time trainee management consultant (he left after a week saying he could not look at an overhead projection of a growth profit matrix and stay conscious) went on to build a successful career as a journalist.

His first post with The Times was destined to be shortlived.

"No I wasn't sacked, my contract was not renewed."

This is an important, if subtle, difference to Mr Johnson. Boris then took the role of political columnist for the Telegraph before turning his attention to the Houses of Parliament. I am intrigued as to the motivation to become an MP.

"Journalism can be very negative. You are always looking to trip people up, looking for a scoop trying to 'find them out'." He says revealing an insight that I would rather not accommodate as I sit there with my journalist's hat on.

"Don't get me wrong," he continues, "Journalism can provide a great life, travelling and meeting a variety of interesting people but it is negative. I wanted to find out what it would be like to actually try to help."

"Being an MP has, by far, been the most satisfying job I have had."

So what is your proudest achievement?

"Erm, erm, ahhh! mobile phones!"

My perplexed expression is acknowledged.

"I managed to completely whitewash an attempt to ban the use of mobile phones whilst riding a bicycle."

As a driver and a pedestrian, the importance of this accomplishment bypasses me, but I note the obvious pride in this achievement and stifle my ill-advised giggle.

So, out of all the roles you have had, being an MP has given you the most satisfaction?

"Well, erm, f..."

"Fatherhood?" I invite, fearful of the options available to words beginning with 'F'.

"Yes, well, that's what I was going to say."

I am already aware that events of last year have left Boris fiercely guarded about his private life but I am taken aback with the reluctance to even mention a role of such importance. The body language changes. The expression darkens. I reassure Boris that I am not about to conduct an inquisition on matters personal.

"Well, it's embarrassing for, erm, them, my children."

Not for the first time, the flat-palm rustles through the white-blonde nest in an attempt to get the grey-matter kick-started into action.

A phone call. I am unaware of who is on the end of the line but I note a distinct change in the air. A long silence after the call is finished ensures that I get the picture. Just to be sure, I gently enquire if he would like a break from the interview.

Boris looks at me as if I have mysteriously appeared on the seat next to him.

"Yes, I just need to think for a moment."

Silence. We turn into a quiet country lane. Essentially I am a female alone with a man I don't know, so my survival-kit instincts momentarily come to the fore but I quickly dismiss any thoughts of impropriety as absurd.

"What time are we due at the next appointment?"

Having left Wayne, his Political Agent, at the previous venue, I wonder if Boris is confused as to my identity but quickly offer the information I have picked up along the way.

"12.30."

Glancing at his watch, Boris grabs his phone and excuses himself from the car.

I watch as he paces the country lane, flat-palm in place on the nest, phone in-hand as he concentrates on each word he imparts to the recipient. As 12.25pm nears, I am aware that the next appointment is a 15 minute journey away. I scribble, 'YOU ARE GOING TO BE LATE' on my pad and walk, holding the pad aloft, to the still pacing Boris. I am met with a thumbs up and a smile as he turns on his heels with the words uninterrupted. 'political agenda.. horrific... ID cards..." Putting 2 and 2 together, I realise an article is being constructed on the hoof. I return to the car.

To read the full text of this article, please contact Jacqueline.

© Jacqueline Alexander

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