BORIS JOHNSON: I despaired of Macron… he would not hesitate to put his Cuban-heeled bootee into Brexit Britain (but I got my delicious revenge at the G7 summit)

In June 2020 Macron had come to London and we commemorated de Gaulle’s famous 1940 broadcast to the Free French by putting on a flypast and a guard of honour in Horse Guards – which was only spoiled by Dilyn having hysterics in the Downing Street garden.

‘Is zat your deurg?’ said Macron incredulously. I offered him the honour of holding Dilyn himself, which he mysteriously declined.

Again, I gushed with ideas for intensified Anglo-French technological cooperation. Surely it was absurd that two of the world’s greatest economies, barely 20 miles apart, were connected by only one railway line. Wasn’t it time, I said (slightly improvising), for a new road link across the Channel?

‘Non,’ said Macron; rather abruptly, I thought, as though he was suddenly appalled at the idea of all those rapacious Brits swarming across a bridge to his relatively underpopulated country.

They watch the Red Arrows and La Patrouille de France fly over Horseguards parade 

Although Macron was personally charming, and although we often agreed on important issues, he really meant it when he said that Brexit Britain must be punished. On some issues I am afraid I therefore suspected him of being a positive nuisance.

Take the ‘small boats’ that cross the Channel to Britain from the beaches of France, risking the lives of tens of thousands of migrants.

It seemed at least possible to me that he was weaponising the problem, Belarus-style, and discreetly allowing the migrants to come across in sufficient numbers to drive the British public nuts and undermine one of the most important facts of Brexit – that we had taken back control of our borders.

I say all this, really, to explain why – after a long and determined attempt to build bridges (even literally) – I more or less despaired of Macron. Even if we personally got on, and even if there were questions where we strongly agreed, there was also a host of issues where, given the chance, he would not hesitate to put his Cuban-heeled bootee into Brexit Britain.

 Although Macron was personally charming, and although we often agreed on important issues, he really meant it when he said that Brexit Britain must be punished. On some issues I am afraid I therefore suspected him of being a positive nuisance.

Take the ‘small boats’ that cross the Channel to Britain from the beaches of France, risking the lives of tens of thousands of migrants.

It seemed at least possible to me that he was weaponising the problem, Belarus-style, and discreetly allowing the migrants to come across in sufficient numbers to drive the British public nuts and undermine one of the most important facts of Brexit – that we had taken back control of our borders.

I say all this, really, to explain why – after a long and determined attempt to build bridges (even literally) – I more or less despaired of Macron. Even if we personally got on, and even if there were questions where we strongly agreed, there was also a host of issues where, given the chance, he would not hesitate to put his Cuban-heeled bootee into Brexit Britain.

My delicious revenge at the G7 summit, a pact with Biden… and how they all went tonto back in Paris

The West Country air was buzzing with post-pandemic camaraderie for the assembly of the G7 world leaders in Cornwall in June 2021, a three-day diplomatic schmoozathon at the Carbis Bay Hotel.

This was President Joe Biden’s first trip outside the United States. ‘I can see that Boris and I both married above ourselves,’ he said as I introduced him to Carrie. He seemed to take a bit of a shine to her.

The Bidens had brought presents: a little bike for Wilfred and a custom-made bike for me, decorated with British and American flags and silver facsimiles of our signatures. It was so valuable that, under our very proper rules, I later had to buy it, at considerable expense, from the British state. Meanwhile Carrie got all sorts of clothes and goodies from Jill Biden.

And what do you think we gave them in return? No one in Number 10 had a clue. Perhaps a portrait of someone? Could we think of any British people that he admired? But Biden made a big thing of being Irish by extraction, not British. Hmmm.

Mr Johnson said President Joe Biden seemed to take a bit of a shine to wife Carrie 

Leaders of the G7 pose for a group photo at Carbis Bay, St Ives, Cornwall

Then someone mentioned a 19th-century anti-slavery campaigner called Frederick Douglass, who had apparently once travelled to Scotland. How about a picture of him? We couldn’t find a portrait anywhere – and in the end I am afraid we simply printed off a picture from Wikipedia.

The Bidens had spent thousands on us. I doubt that we spent as much as a penny on them. It was fabulously mean; which I suppose will draw the approval of the UK taxpayer. At the time, I kicked myself, because these tokens can be oddly important – and in offering their tributes to Biden, I knew that the other leaders would not hold back.

Yes, here was Emmanuel Macron, toadying up with a pretty flash-looking crate of wine, a gift from the people of France to the American president. ‘It is named in honour of Lafayette,’ he said, showing me the label and reminding us that Lafayette was the French revolutionary general who fought for George Washington against, bien sur, the British!

I ground my teeth. It may all sound a bit teenage, this vying for Biden’s affection, but it mattered. I badly needed to make common cause with him and, more particularly, I had to persuade him to agree, in secret, to a brilliant and ambitious geo-strategic proposal, whose only downside – sad but unavoidable – was that it was going to put French noses badly out of joint.

The proposal was to equip Australia with the right submarines in a new and thoroughgoing defence pact spanning three continents, between three countries – the UK, US and Australia.

The difficulty was that a previous Australian PM had commissioned the French to supply the next-generation submarine but these were proving to be too noisy and easy for an enemy to detect. The new treaty would mean breaking off a massively lucrative submarine deal for the French.

This would go down exceedingly badly with the Élysée. It would cause Emmanuel to jeter ses jouets dehors de la poussette*, and then manger le tapis*. So the big question was: would Biden be willing to collaborate on a project – no matter how ultimately beneficial to America and the world – if it meant pretty massively cheesing off the French?

My most important job at Carbis Bay was to organise a discreet three-way meeting – Biden, the Australian prime minister Morrison and me – without being rumbled by the French.

In great secrecy we pulled it off… When we announced the Aukus pact agreement later they all went predictably tonto in Paris, but all was harmony that night in Carbis Bay.

We leaders sat up late drinking, looking out over the sea and raising our glasses like Olympus-dwelling immortals to the ideals of democracy and intensified technological cooperation.

Oho, I thought, as I knocked back the red, this is pretty good stuff. I consulted the label. It was Macron’s Lafayette, which Biden had kindly donated for the general weal. Whatever his Irish antecedents, the US president never touches alcohol.

Dictionary corner

*Jeter ses jouets dehors de la poussette: Throw his toys out of the pram

**Manger le tapis: Eat the carpet

President Joe Biden and Mr Johnson pose next to the G7 sign

Joe Biden defied the urgings of the EU and, I believe, of some of his own officials – and pointedly refused to weigh in on the row over Northern Ireland.

‘I would not dream,’ he said, ‘of telling a friend and ally how to run his own country.’

In fact, he disarmed me completely by saying that his family origins were not really Irish at all, and that the Bidens were an old seafaring family from Kent (which seems plausible, since -den is a common Kentish termination).

I suppose that he may say something subtly different when in Dublin. But never mind! He was up for almost anything to take the relationship forwards.

Adapted from Unleashed by Boris Johnson (William Collins, £30), to be published on October 10. © Boris Johnson 2024. To order a copy for £25.50 (offer valid until October 12, 2024; UK P&P free on orders over £25) go to or call 020 3176 2937.

Boris Johnson will be in conversation with Gyles Brandreth at The Bridgewater Hall, Manchester, on October 12.