BORIS JOHNSON, NON AGRICOLA EST.

Let no one doubt the mayor of London’s infinite capacity to add to the gaiety of the nation, and once more dear Boris has come up trumps with his latest announcement. Not only has he admitted that he may not run for a second term as our inglorious buffoon, but to cap absurdity with historical myopia, the man compares himself to Cincinnnatus, one of the great heroes of Republican Rome.
  Due to circumstances, largely due to his own making, Cincinnnatus was forced to live in the country, a bit like the modern equivalent of being sent to Liverpool to apologise for telling the truth about the moaning, self pitying Scousers. There the similarity ends. Cincinnatus supported himself and his family in poverty, by farming a small plot of land. Now apart from the fact that Boris could not tell the difference between a bucketful of manure and a field of parsnips, he makes a mountain of dosh by being paid to write a load of self serving shite in the Daily Telegraph.
  Now, it came to pass, (It always did in them days), that a crisis arose in Rome, and Cincinnatus was recalled by the Senate to save the state. By this time it is easy to see why Boris fancies himself as the Roman yeoman riding to the rescue, but I digress. Cincinnatus was made dictator, and off he went and defeated the Aequians, Rome was saved. Being the noble fellow he was, our hero then resigned his office and returned to the farm. Boris resign from office? Don’t make me laugh, he will have to be dragged screaming from the portals of power. The only thing Boris has in common with the ancient Roman is his barnet, the name Cincinnnatus refers to the man’s somewhat unruly mop.
  Having established that our Boris is no Cincinnnatus, who in ancient Rome can we compare him to? How about the Gracchi, the brothers Tiberius and Giaus. The Gracchi are regarded as the founders of populism, in short a couple of rabble rousers who came up with the then novel wheeze to pinch from the rich to buy the votes of the poor, now that’s Boris for you. There is one fly in this particular jar of ointment, the nobles whose wealth was to be plundered to fund the ambitions of the Gracchi, turned on their tormentor and sliced him up like a salami in a dark corner of the Forum. Gordon Brown beware. No. We can’t have such an end for Boris, but who in the ancient world can we compare him to? Well dears you can rely on me to come up with the answer.
  Boris can be equated with Odovacar, “Oo?” You may shriek, at least the less erudite amongst you will. Odovacar was a barbarian chieftain of Hunnish and Scimian ancestry, a bit of a fruit salad, like Boris, who, despite his posh accent is half wog himself. It was Odovacar who deposed the last Emperor of the West, Romulus Augustalus, a young lad who had scarce matured enough to spit in the eye of puberty, now, who does that remind you of? David and Goliath? Odovacar hustled Romulus into obscure retirement, the fate of most Tory leaders. Yes, Boris can best be compared to Odovacar. 
  One last question, is Boris chasing after destiny because he feels the tug of mad political ambition? Or, if the fellow running scared because he fears he my end up with more sugar in his tea than he considers palatable?