Cosplaying PM puts on his police hat as Tories get tough on drugs (again) | Jean Crace

Jhere are a few things Boris Johnson loves more than a little cosplay. Usually something that involves a high visibility jacket or white coverall. But by Monday morning he had gone mad – even wearing a black mask – and was posing as a police officer. An activity that is generally an arrestable offence. But no more than being caught red-handed for impersonating a prime minister.

The excuse for Boris’ disguise was the launch of the government’s new policing and drugs strategy, an occasion he chose to mark by joining Merseyside Police in a dawn drug raid. Having for once, remarkably enough, seemed unobtrusive — presumably, he was kept out of the main action — Johnson gave a brief poolside clip for the broadcasters.

Drugs were a bad, bad thing. Something no other government had ever dared to say before, he added. Which was strange. As this is precisely the sort of thing that politicians have been saying over and over again for as long as most of us can remember.

At least those of us who haven’t lost our minds too much with a speedball of cocaine and heroin to have a memory. So that excludes quite a few MPs. Indeed, it was the sixth different drug strategy announced since 1998. And all of them had failed miserably.

Boris was sure this one was going to be different. Even though it was largely the same thing. Crack down on drugs – again – and set aside money for drug rehabilitation in prison. It’s almost as if the only lesson governments on both sides have learned from the 12-step treatment programs is the saying that “insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

Only all governments seem to have taken it as an instruction rather than a warning. Talking tough with drugs can play well with some members of the electorate. But until a government dares to look at the underlying causes, nothing will change. Indeed, over the years, it got progressively worse.

Yet Johnson had another brain wave. In order to show he was serious, he was also going to target middle-class cocaine users by stripping them of their passports. It was time to let authorized classes know that there were no free passes for recreational users.

And to show he was serious, he was going to start by confiscating his own passport, as he had once joked while snorting coke that could have been icing sugar. My, how we laughed. More seriously, he was planning to take away Michael Gove’s passport. Although only once he was out of the country so he could not return. Then Boris would be doing us all a real favor.

On Radio 4’s Today programme, Shadow Home Secretary Yvette Cooper observed that all the government had really done was restore funding to programs that the administrations of David Cameron and Theresa May had cut. Bertie Booster was outraged. The very idea that he had anything to do with the Tories over the past 11 years was totally unthinkable. In BorisWorld, time only started in 2019.

After the morning raid in Liverpool, Johnson attempted to sneak out in full police uniform. Not only would it be useful for the Christmas party he still wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have, but it would also do it for the raid he was planning on No 10 to investigate the cold case of the Downing Street party last year which may or may not have happened.

Last week it was the desperately hapless science minister, George Freeman, who was sent in to defend the government’s enthusiasm for breaking its own rules.

Now, in a show of solidarity – Free the Freeman One – it was police minister Kit Malthouse who had been sent to the top to defend the indefensible. Apparently Malthouse had been asked to talk about drugs.

But given that he was the author of the mind-blowing ‘Malthouse Compromise’ – the Brexit deal in Northern Ireland that could only work if controlled by badgers with night vision goggles – the most of the media felt that Kit was not the best judge of drug policy.

So instead, Malthouse was asked whether No 10 had decided to confess and come quietly or come down with all guns blazing. As always, Malthouse took a mind-altering compromise.

He knew he was going to be questioned about it, he said, so he asked Number 10 directly if such a party had taken place. And Number 10 had assured him no, which was more than enough for him. As most criminals must wish the police and the courts would take their word for it when they say they did nothing wrong either.

Within minutes, Kit had lost all credibility. As well as consciousness. He didn’t know if an event had taken place or not, but if it had, all guidelines had been followed. Especially the guideline that such events should not take place.

And even though there had been a party, he had been told that the windows had been left wide closed – he meant open – and that the only music that had been played was the opening credits of the Archers. It would take him weeks to recover from a mutilation like that. Even for someone with as little shame and self-esteem as Malthouse.

Just as Kit was lying in a darkened room, her phone disappeared. It was Number 10 telling him that he would have to make a ministerial statement on the government’s police bill later in the afternoon. “But everyone is going to tear it up because it’s kinda shitty,” Malthouse said.

“Don’t worry. We’ve put a few more statements in front of you, so the room will be nearly empty by the time it reaches you,” said a Downing Street apparatchik.

“So do you think people will also forget how bad I was on TV and radio this morning?”

“For sure.”

• A Farewell to Calm by John Crace (Guardian Faber, £9.99). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.