2024 In Review: The Year The Tory Story Ended

An English parliament has existed for more than 800 years, and there have been some startlingly bad ones: the Mad Parliament of 1258; the Bad Parliament of 1377; and the Merciless Parliament of 1378. But, following this vigorous start, terrible parliaments took a 646-year break so they could get a really good run-up to the Conservative one that ended in 2024. 

This was a parliament that took the biscuit (and then probably tried to have sex with the biscuit, or chopped it up for snorting, or flogged it to their mates). Even the Telegraph described it as “the worst parliament in history” – and not without cause. Of the MPs elected in 2019, a record number were expelled or resigned due to some depravity or other.

How we laughed as Rishi Sunak promised that he was about to conjure “integrity, professionalism and accountability” from the cast of self-serving crooks, xenophobes, and charlatans that formed his party. How bereft of laughter it seems now.

The year began with an ITV drama, Mr Bates vs The Post Office, which shoved the story of Britain’s biggest ever miscarriage of justice into every living room, hot on the heels of 14 years of heroic governmental apathy.

Kemi Badenoch, at the time the Business Minister most recently responsible for doing nothing at all, immediately decided the buck stopped several miles away from her: she phoned the Post Office’s chairman, who she had never even bothered to meet, and sacked him on the spot. “Well, someone’s got to take the rap for this”, she told him, while instructing him via civil servants to stall compensation payments, so they’d land on the desk of an incoming Labour government, thus allowing the Tories to “limp into” the general election.

And limp they did, largely as a result of shooting themselves in both feet, not least over asylum seekers. Credit where it’s due: the Conservatives had guaranteed an illegal migration policy, and that’s precisely what they delivered. The Supreme Court ruled the Rwanda plan was unlawful, because the country was an unsafe destination. So the Tories attempted to declare it safe by parliamentary fiat. Why didn’t they just vote to make Gaza safe, if that’s how it works? Or Chernobyl? Or putting your fingers near Jonathan Gullis’ mouth?

Sunak’s inevitable failure over Rwanda was enough to make Andrea Jenkyns demand yet another Tory leadership election, so she could serve under a “new and true Conservative leader”. By the year’s end, her search for a new and true Conservative led her to Nigel Farage, an old liar from the Reform Party. But, in the meantime, Sunak spent the six months prior to Farage’s inevitable return to the spotlight tackling more urgent biggest problems: his immediate predecessors. 

Liz Truss was like an actor who had been cast in a single episode of Star Trek, and then eked it out into a lifetime of Comic Con appearances. In her endless quest for relevance, the least popular premier in the history of British polling launched a faction called ‘Popular Conservatism’, which was designed to unite the party but, in a dazzling return to form, managed to split in two during its actual launch event. Four speakers had been invited, but only Truss and Jacob Rees-Mogg turned up, like a jump-scare. Kwasi Kwarteng decided – only 14 years too late – that it would be better if he quit politics entirely. And Simon Clarke was forced to pull out because his most recent coup attempt left his colleagues describing him as “a self-indulgent tosser”.

Meanwhile, as Russia became ever-more dangerous, we discovered Conservative funding cuts had left the Army unable to afford enough bullets. Luckily, we could depend on our volunteer force. “Lance Corporal Johnson reporting for duty, Sah!”, declared Boris Johnson, secure in the knowledge he was 25 years too old for military service. But at least he’d moderated his ambitions. Where once he had aspired to be World King, he now reckoned he could make it all the way to the lowest-ranking non-commissioned officer it is possible to be. And he was certain the Army would want him, even though, as Jennifer Arcuri can attest, he’d already done his fair share of dishonourable discharges.

Since Worzel Damage turned out to be ineligible to fight on our behalf, and his Government’s cuts had left our military unable to do more than point their empty guns at Russia and shout, ‘BANG!’, we had to find other ways to deter the Kremlin. 

So, as part of the ongoing sanctions against Putin’s regime, Sunak relaxed the rules that banned Russians from attending the Chevening Scholarship, a master’s degree programme for future leaders, fully funded from Britain’s foreign aid budget. You probably assumed foreign aid was helping poor farmers in developing nations. In fact, it was training Russian leaders. The US anti-corruption campaigner Bill Browder called the move “highly inappropriate” because “a programme like this should be for citizens of countries that aren’t threatening us with nuclear war”.

But much of this terrifying news slipped under the radar because our attention was entirely taken up by champion edgelord Lee Anderson, a witless carnival barker for those who are convinced they can shout ‘BANG!’ well enough to stop the Russian bear, but who are unable to cope with seeing a trans person in a John Lewis commercial.