Boris and Monty

A few days ago, I flipped on the TV just in time to see a live feed of Boris Johnson’s acceptance speech. In case you don’t follow such things, Boris is the newly elected Prime Minister of England. I don’t usually keep up with the politics of other countries either, but this one just fell into my lap.

In fact, I would normally have changed channels immediately upon seeing what it was. In this instance, however, I was drawn to the tube (well, I guess they aren’t tubes anymore, but I was drawn nonetheless). There’s just something about a British accent. I’ve always loved the way those folks speak.

No Exception, He

Boris was no exception to my rule of Celt, so I listened for a while. The while turned into his entire speech (which, as it so happened, wasn’t all that long for a politician). Not only did he sport a wonderful accent, but he was also given to humor—another unexpected aspect from a political type. I don’t know anything about him, but I immediately liked him.

Of course, it’s much easier to like politicians that don’t directly affect my own interests. I can actually enjoy them for the person they are rather than the political slant they spew. So (at least for the time being), Boris is a newfound fascination for me. I suppose that will quickly fade when his partisan colors are flown on the nightly news. For now, however, I’m a fan.

Because of his accent and humorous remarks, I got the feeling I was watching an episode of Monty Python’s Flying Circus. Since I was a young fan of that show (many moons ago), it was easy to transfer my interest. In my mind, he could have easily slipped into one of their inane, comedy sketches. I don’t know if he would appreciate my mental association of him and the farcical British act, but I just can’t help myself. It’s who I am.

A Russian Spy?

Then, of course, there’s his name—Boris Johnson. It’s about as unlikely a name as any politician I can conjure up. With a name like that, he’s bound to be accused of being a Russian spy (maybe even colluding with the Russian authorities to secure his election). In today’s atmosphere, who knows? I just hope his spouse’s name is not Natasha.

Now I’ve really gone and done it. I’ve not only put Boris into a comedic box, I’ve just inadvertently him paired with a cartoon—Rocky and Bullwinkle. Minds like mine should undoubtedly be locked away somewhere until we can get our thoughts untwisted—to someplace where we can’t infect the thought processes of the young and impressionable. Alas and alack, I live in a country so free that I can express these inanities without reprisal. Ain’t it grand?

So, for now, Boris and Monty will reside, side by side, on a pedestal in my mind’s eye. It’s a lofty perch, Boris, so don’t blow it. I need all the heroes I can get.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and currently resides in Aldie, VA.]

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