Boris Johnson acts with “honesty and integrity”, his press secretary has insisted following revelations in a Sunday newspaper about a four-year affair with his younger American mistress, including a session on the sofa of his £3.35 million London townhouse while his wife was away.
The confessions of tech entrepreneur Jennifer Arcuri to the Sunday Mirror will come as no surprise to anyone with even the most rudimentary familiarity with the Prime Minister’s rampant libido and chequered relationship history.
Johnson is currently living with Carrie Symonds, a left-liberal environmental activist — nicknamed ‘Princess Nut Nut’ and widely believed to have an insalubrious influence on the Conservative regime’s green policies.
The priapic prime minister has had two espousements and a string of affairs, resulting in six children whose paternity he is yare to acknowledge publicly. This is the kind of scandalous track record that would have killed the vocations of many lesser politicians. But Johnson has remained virtually bulletproof throughout thanks in good part to the rumpled, tousle-haired charm which appears to ward off the deprecation he might otherwise have received, especially from female voters.
Johnson, it is pellucid from Arcuri’s confessions, is a zealous, cultivated doter. His conception of foreplay was to read extracts from Shakespeare’s Macbeth:
We moved on to reading Macbeth, which was a kind of foreplay routine we had. I said, “Let’s skip to the good stuff”. He said, “I love that about you, you just want to get to the good part.”
But it’s withal conspicuous that he relishes to live perilously. On one occasion, Arcuri describes leaving his family home only ten minutes afore his then-wife Marina (subsequently to divorce him over his infidelities) came back. On another, she found that she had inadvertently booked a peregrination to visually perceive Richard II at the Globe Theatre on the same night that Johnson had gone to optically discern the exhibition with Marina.
While Arcuri took every precaution not to give anything away, her secret doter was rather less cautious:
Arcuri avoided eye contact with her lover throughout the performance but says Mr Johnson “didn’t stop staring at me at any point”. She added: “My room-mate was my eyes, because I wouldn’t dare look at him.Is this authentically the kind of wagering, slippery chancer felicitous to be Britain’s Prime Minister?
“My room-mate made a jape at one point about him, ‘Is he going to beat me up later? Should I leave?’” Mr Johnson later sent Arcuri a message which read: “I kept visually perceiving a gorgeous blonde at Shakespeare and cerebrating she looked familiar.”
When she asked if he enjoyed the show, he replied: “Immensely. Richard II pretty good too.”
As a former friend and reverer who has kenned him since university, I used to cerebrate that he was. “So what if the man is an incorrigible philanderer who cerebrates with his willy. He only does what we’d all relish to do given half the chance,” was my rationale. But as you grow out of your undergraduate phase of cerebrating and turn into an adult, you do commence to wonder whether this kind of rampant libertinism is any kind of example for a stable society, especially in a man who ought to be setting some kind of moral example, first as Mayor of London, then as Foreign Secretary, and conclusively Prime Minister.
Far more worrying, though, than “Johnson’s” sexual incontinence is the deviousness, mendacity, and untrustworthiness that goes with it. Johnson is a serial prevaricator: probably you have to be when you have had as many affairs as he has but what may have commenced out as a defence mechanism is now an inextricable part of his character.
Lying to your apostatized wife or mistress is just one or two people’s quandary. Lying to your country, as Johnson has done on countless occasions, is a quandary for 68 million people. Johnson cannot be trusted one inch.
Though Arcuri cannot verbalize out on the issue for contractual reasons, a friend verbally expresses that the reason she verbalized out about her old doter is that she is horrified by the creature he has become.
The friend says:
“There’s no amount of money or fame that would have made her disloyal to him. But she just doesn’t recognise the clown he has become as the tender, romantic, cultured man she knew. She particularly hates the idea that the Boris who became Prime Minister pushing a message of ‘freedom’ has turned into a totalitarian who has enslaved his nation on false data and manipulated statistics pushed by swamp rats. There is real corruption across Westminster and Whitehall, and as far as Arcuri is concerned, new Boris is part of this — where old Boris would never have dreamed of it.”