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The other day Tim Montogomerie memorably described Rory Stewart as the Tory leadership contender loved by people who will never vote Conservative.
It was a spot on line. Rory, who admitted smoking opium, once, a bit, has been endorsed by Gary Lineker – the crisp-toting football commentary chap, or Golden Gary Goals as we called him during the 1986 World Cup when he salvaged things for England after the sending off of Ray Wilkins.
With a crushing inevitably, like the moment years from now when the sun folds in on itself and earth is turned to dust, Rory has been endorsed by Brian – things can only get better – Cox, the planets and science television person.
On the politics front, some of my favourite commentators – and a few who are not – are falling over themselves to eulogise the International Development Secretary’s tour of the country. He is talking – what will they think next? – to people and issuing little videos that are in their way mesmerising.
Why do the Remainers and metropolitans love Rory? It’s his “social media game.” He is “having a moment” – apparently.
Reading all this glorious gibberish in praise of Rory I feel like I did when I tried to watch Fleabag a few months ago.
Fleabag was the latest not very funny piece of middle class “comedy” from the usual crew that won’t be happy until the working class (traditionally the best at comedy in this country) are removed completely from our national cultural life.
I like Rory. He is a serious talent. Even if he struggles to explain why he is a Conservative – is he a Conservative? – there is something winning and inherently exciting about a politician who looks like Mick Jagger in 1963 and who talks about Afghanistan, Iraq, compromise and books.
That’s why I dislike all this hype and nonsense. He is trainee big beast, a statesman of the future perhaps, yet he is behaving like a Tory Zoella YouTube twit. In a year’s time it’ll look embarrassing. Rory, get it together.
Am I wrong? Am I missing the point? It has happened before…
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