Michael Gove has narrated this article for you to listen to.
Shortly after Boris Johnson was selected as the Conservative candidate for Henley, he invited me to lunch at The Spectator. It was, he said, to be an intimate affair. The magazine’s then proprietor, Conrad Black, had made it known that he expected Boris to stand down as editor now that he was embarking on a political career. Speculation as to who might succeed him was intense among ambitious young journalists. And I was one of those at the time who harboured secret hopes. Was this invitation a sign of favour, a laying-on of hands, the anointing of an heir? On arriving at lunch I discovered that there were other guests. Three of them. All of whom were fellow hacks who had also been either tipped as Boris’s successor or had welcomed their names being canvassed. As we sat around the table, we realised that Boris had invited us there to be teased and tested in a form of journalistic Squid Game. Who would break first? In the end it didn’t matter. By the time the last crumbs were being cleared away it had become apparent that none of us was there to be welcomed into the vacant editor’s chair, because the editor wasn’t going to vacate it. And so Boris continued to enjoy the best job in the world for several years more. And in due course he also managed to bag the second-best one. For my assessment of how he did, do read my review.
I recall that act of Johnsonian mischief because, 20 years later, I now occupy the chair he once graced.
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