Listen to Liz Truss for long enough and she’ll tell you she’s been on a journey. The inexorable rise of a girl who went from a rough Leeds comprehensive to frontrunner for the next Conservative prime minister. Via a brief spell in the Lib Dems. We all make mistakes.
Examine the journey more carefully, though, and it begins to look even more remarkable. The human flotsam who just happens to be carried downstream to the doors of No 10. A journey without any ideas or purpose other than to adapt to her surroundings and rise to the top. The failures have been spectacular, yet also spectacularly successful. Each time, she emerges into a more powerful iteration. Samuel Beckett could only stand back and applaud. She is literally living his dream.
Take Version 1.0 of Radon Liz. She’s a gas, but she’s inert. This was back in the early days of David Cameron’s leadership. No one was more socially liberal than Truss. No one ever hugged a husky tighter. Or embraced austerity harder. As and when required.
This Liz was also an ardent remainer. I can remember meeting her in the spin room of a televised debate during the referendum campaign. She bent my ear at length about how Vote Leave was based on lies and that remain was going to win at a canter. No sweat. No bother. That was probably the first time I seriously entertained the idea that the UK was going to leave the EU. Her reward for failure was promotion.
Radon Liz 2.0 turned out to be a passionate leaver. Far more so than many people who had supported Brexit all along. It wasn’t that she now reckoned what was done was done, there was no going back and we just had to make the best of it. It was that remaining in the EU was wrong. A thought crime. A mortal sin. This was the Truss who draped herself in the union jack for photographs at every available opportunity. Who was never happier than when cosplaying Margaret Thatcher in a tank. While the economy also tanked. This version was also rewarded with ever more governmental baubles.
The newest version, Liz 3.0, is almost incomprehensible. She has slid so far through the looking-glass to the Tory right that in some parallel universes she appears to have adopted Marxist economics. Dialectics has never been so confusing. She both reveres Boris Johnson’s memory, saying she wouldn’t have changed a thing, yet trashes the record of the government. Her prescription for getting the economy back on track is to reverse the national insurance hikes and to cut personal and corporation tax. How she would do this, she hasn’t said. Right now it’s enough just to talk in riddles.
It is exhausting, though. To keep up with Radon Liz’s journey, you have to be able to run fast. She is the anti-ideologue. The anti-conviction politician. Not so much a set of ideas looking for their natural home as vaulting ambition in search of some ideas. Any ideas. If you don’t like hers, she’s got some others.
Because here’s the thing. Truss is a tabula rasa – a dodgy 1980s computer with a screen that is permanently buffering. Someone capable of reinventing herself almost at will. And it just so happens that every time she needs some new ideas, she comes up with a set that exactly mirrors those that are needed to enable her to rise still higher in the Tory party. It’s one hell of a coincidence. Imagine one person having that much luck. It’s almost as if she doesn’t believe in anything at all. The ultimate shapeshifter. “Tonight, Matthew, I will be whatever you want me to be.”
For reasons not entirely clear to anyone, Truss has struck paydirt with version 3.0. It’s all but a certainty that her journey is now complete. No one is yet calling the next seven weeks a pointless extended coronation, but we’re not far off that point. Radon Liz’s latest incarnation has hit the Tory members’ sweet spot. Partly by not being Rish! – there are plenty who will never forgive him for betraying the Convict – but mainly by telling them what they want to hear.
Were she a bit brighter, she too would be amazed that so many people could forget that Rish! didn’t increase public borrowing and increase taxes because he’s a socialist. He did so because the country was falling apart in a pandemic. But when you’re on a roll, you’re on a roll. And Liz is living her best life as the prime minister in waiting. So much so that she’s almost relaxed. As relaxed as AI gets.
Her interview with Nick Robinson on the Today programme passed off with few alarms. She even found her way into the building and navigated her way out without having to call security. A vast improvement on her launch event the previous week. And she even managed to talk the usual bollocks without sounding too robotic. Close your eyes and you could almost imagine she was human.
She knew her plan for unfunded tax cuts wasn’t inflationary because Patrick Minford had told her so. This was the economist who had forecast that Brexit would increase GDP by 7% and that food prices would fall. Bring on the Nobel prize.
Later on Thursday afternoon, Radon Liz was at Little Miracles, a charity for children with life-limiting and other disabilities, and looked quite at ease. She must have made countless visits like this as a constituency MP. She chatted to the kids for a while about the hassle of being followed around by the media. She looked pointedly at the collection of sketch writers. But there was kindness and laughter in her eyes. She can at least see the absurdity of someone like her becoming prime minister. And she does believe in a free press. Unlike Rish!.
Truss then moved on to the parents and listened as they shared their experiences. Afterwards, I asked two of them, Wendy and Brian – neither Tory voters – what they thought. Nice enough, they said. Though the proof would be in the delivery. If Truss were to spend proper money on social services, that would be a first.
By then Radon Liz had moved on. Just time to say she was all in favour of a new royal yacht, provided it was funded by Tesco, and that she was Labour’s worst nightmare. Wet dream more like. But she’s entitled to her delusions. And with that she was off. Job done. It had been the quintessential Liz experience. Charmingly superficial. Little Miracles would still be short of funds and the parents would still struggle to get the services their children needed. But more importantly, Truss would be in Downing Street. She left as she came. Without a trace. On brand to the last.