Move over Love Island, there’s a toe-curling television show in town. The remaining Tory leadership contenders lined up for a second TV debate last night. What an unseemly parade of squabbling it turned out to be.
Noisy, ill-tempered, occasionally childish. Honestly, I’ve seen more sophisticated conversing in a high street Wetherspoon’s at chucking-out time.
These were supposed to be the Conservatives’ top bods and yet they could barely agree on anything. Jeremy Corbyn must have been grinning over his lentil stew with delight at home.
How did man of the hour Rory Stewart fare? Well, the kindest that could be said is that you couldn’t miss him.
Rory attacked Gove who attacked Saj. Gove then attacked Rory’s ‘cold porridge’ plans to revive Mrs May’s deal again. Nearly all of them attacked Boris
Spread-eagled in his chair, he twisted, he contorted, he arranged his body into a series of bizarre shapes. You almost wondered if he was running for prime minister or conducting a pilates class.
But oh, let us please resist joining the burgeoning cult of Rory the wizened seer. We’ll touch more on him in a moment.
The debate took place in Broadcasting House. There was no audience, just questions coming from members of the public via television screens. A total hotch-potch that idea turned out to be. There were no lecterns either. Instead, our contenders perched awkwardly on oddly-shaped high chairs, looking like five chaps carrying out their morning routine.
Time was when these sorts of things were chaired by whichever Dimbleby was available. Here we got Emily Maitlis. Since taking over on Newsnight, Maitlis has achieved something many thought impossible. She has actually made it watchable again.
Noisy, ill-tempered, occasionally childish. Honestly, I’ve seen more sophisticated conversing in a high street Wetherspoon’s at chucking-out time
The debate took place in Broadcasting House. There was no audience, just questions coming from members of the public via television screens
But she seemed to misunderstand her role here, which was to moderate a debate. Instead, she kept talking over everyone’s answers like she thought it was an interview. First up, surprise surprise, the candidates were asked about Brexit. The producers might as well have rolled a hand grenade on to a crowded platform at Waterloo. The noise!
Rory attacked Gove who attacked Saj. Gove then attacked Rory’s ‘cold porridge’ plans to revive Mrs May’s deal again. Nearly all of them attacked Boris. Hunt drew some blood on Boris, saying his No Deal plans would be catastrophic for farmers: ‘You will have got your dream, you’d be in No10. The farmer hasn’t.’ He had on OK-ish night, Hunt.
Boris looked orange. Heaven knows what he’s dug out of Carrie’s bathroom cabinet and smeared on his face, but it was a shocker.
Rory spent most of the evening looking petulant. He was drawn to speak last which left him increasingly impatient. Five minutes into the debate he truculently peeled off his tie.
Jeremy Corbyn must have been grinning over his lentil stew with delight at home
His showdown with Boris never really happened. For a while he pressed Boris on the Irish border issue, particularly on what he would do about tariffs. Boris just sat there offering a pained grin. One of the questioners accused Rory of being ‘out of touch’ over his reluctance to raise tax. With all that testosterone swilling around, Maitlis struggled to keep order at times. Admittedly, the lack of ad breaks offered no chance for any cooling off.
She gave Boris a rough old ride. His botched handling while foreign secretary of British-Iranian Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe, detained in Iran, came up. As did his comments about Muslim women looking like letterboxes. But Bojo kept his composure, didn’t blow up like he might have done in the past.
Gove was reasonably solid. There was a good line on Brexit, claiming he’d been wanting to leave Europe earlier than any of the other candidates. ‘Because I started this, I will finish this.’
Saj did alright, though having squeaked through the third ballot I fear it won’t him much good.
We bid adieu to Dominic Raab a couple of hours earlier when the ballot result was announced inside a rowdy Committee Room 14. Once again, acting 1922 chief Cheryl Gillan acted as the velvet executioner.
She’ll be back with us this evening, when another man must fall.