Brexit Boris Johnson, the Failed Mayor of London

I come to bury Boris, not to praise him. The cult of personality surrounding the man needs to torn down and slapped with our shoes before he does anymore damage. Most importantly, before we let him lead us out of the European Union like a pied piper of prattling pomposity, we need to review his legacy.

I come to bury Boris, not to praise him. The cult of personality surrounding the man needs to torn down and slapped with our shoes before he does anymore damage. Most importantly, before we let him lead us out of the European Union like a pied piper of prattling pomposity, we need to review his legacy.

After eight years of Bojo the clown's vaudeville extravaganza it's hard not to feel like Londoners have received a pie in the face for the folly of electing the town fool. It's almost impressive to see failure on such a grand scale, it would have been more effective to anoint a large ham rolled in navel fluff as mayor.

The Boris Bus, the Boris Bikes and the Cable Car are a tragic trinity of transport failure. His election promise of a new Routmaster Bus was based on nostalgia rather than practicality. The overpriced and overheated design is now up and running, but its much heralded rear platform and extra staff member have been conspicuous by their lack of use.

Talking about lack of use, London's very own ghost ride, the cable car, is little more than an abandoned fairground attraction giving confused tourists a bird's eye view of a scrap yard. Don't worry about the cost though because Brexit Boris's dangleway is subsidised by the EU. Also receiving public funding, despite the blonde one's reassurances, are the Boris Bikes. I couldn't possibly comment on the suggestion that he undersold the sponsorship to Barclays.

His big dream, the estuary airport, ironically never got off the ground despite him investing £5 million into feasibility studies. It's worth remembering that Boris wasn't against greater air traffic, just the kind that affects the Tory voting West London suburbs.

This wasn't the first time he promised the improbable. He campaigned on a platform of achieving a no strike deal with the unions. Boris's reign saw more strikes than his predecessor and no strike ban, probably because he never even met with the unions. He also promised not to close the TFL ticket offices. They are now all closed.

So that's more strikes, no ticket offices, money wasted on poorly delivered gimmicks and spiraling ticket prices. At least he brought in the Night Tube, well not quite yet, it's been delayed because he announced it before clearing with underground staff a massive change in their working conditions.

Then there are the air pollution levels leading the death of thousands of Londoners every year. I'll leave it to you to decide whether cutting the Western Extension of the Congestion Charge Zone and wasting 1.4 million pounds on trying to stick the pollution to the road were good ideas.

Perhaps we should remember the good times, like the Olympics, for which his most notable contribution was a giant red sculpture, an attraction so unattractive that they are attaching a slide to it. This is great because you'll be to imagine yourself as actual money being pissed down a drain.

If they wish to turn it into a water slide I would suggest using the three water cannons he purchased and refurbished for a total of £218k. These riot prevention vehicles are actually banned due to being so dangerous that even a Tory Home Secretary wouldn't allow their use. Alternatively they could use them to water the plants on Joanna Lumley's very own vanity veranda the Garden Bridge.

Like any leaders with delusions of Rome it's probably best just to hang the bastard up from a lamppost. We certainly shouldn't be listening to his ramblings about Europe, his fantasies of post-Brexit Britain or most frighteningly his ambition to be Prime Minister.

The man might be best described as an extravagant waste of public money, but for his gravestone I suggest the epitaph 'My name is Boris, king of fools, look at my works ye voter and despair!'

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