£121 for a Boris ‘meet and greet’? How desperate must he (or we) be?

Boris Johnson is hosting a curious fundraiser where fans can snap a selfie with him for a fee. But is this just a lucrative photo op, asks Joe Murphy, or the first step in his return to politics?

Exactly how bad must a mouldy patch on the wall be before the novel solution of hiding it behind a framed selfie with Boris Johnson becomes less embarrassing?

Most of us would probably choose some honest mould over our most scandalous former prime minister gurning down from over the mantelpiece. Hence the astonished response to an announcement this week that, for a fee of £121.25, people in Edinburgh can attend a “meet and greet” with Bozza and have their picture taken shaking his hand.

So many aspects of this eyebrow-raising event beg further investigation. Why is it happening in EU-infatuated Scotland, where the cult of Johnson was restricted to a tiny minority even in his pre-Covid heyday? The damp Highland airs may well produce a lot of mould, but most residents would surely agree with SNP MP Kirsty Blackman, who responded crushingly: "For most Scots, the important point here is it's free not to meet him."

Johnson, however, seems pretty sure that sufficient fans inhabit Edinburgh to fill a two-hour session from 5pm to 7pm at the city’s prestigious Usher Hall in September. If he gives them five minutes each, that would raise a handy £2,800 towards the swanky kitchen he is currently having built at his moated mansion. And that’s before they each cough up another £160 to hear his speech and Q&A.

Making money is, of course, the most obvious answer to the question: “What on earth is Boris up to?”. He is famously always short of dosh, perennially waiting, Bunter-like, for a postal order, and, like a Wodehouse character, best avoided near the Drone Club bar, constantly squeezing his admirers for a loan or two.

The former PM will also be conducting a Q&A in the pro-Remain city of Edinburgh (Getty)

Hang on, you cry, how can a chap who was bunged £276,130 for making a single speech to US insurance agents and a £510k advance on his memoir be short of cash? Easily, is the answer, when you factor in that Johnson’s chaotic public face is not, as commonly believed, a crafty bit of slick image-making but essentially accurate.

Just recollect the excruciating shambles of his personal finances during the time he was actually prime minister on £164k and living scot-free at No 10. Desperate to redecorate the living quarters of his grace-and-favour apartment, purportedly with gold wallpaper picked for him and wife Carrie by designer Lulu Lytle (who soon regretted having her good name embroiled in the scandal), Johnson set up a crackpot and ethically-flawed blind trust so that chummy donors could bung tens of thousands into the pot without their identities (nor any potential conflicts of interest) becoming known to the public or parliament.

How Johnson got into such a financial mess is easily explained. In the year between his resignation as Theresa May’s foreign secretary and his winning the Tory leadership and becoming PM, he embarked on a money-making spree, earning £797,262.68, mainly from after-dinner speeches. So successful was he that months into being PM, he was confronted with an income tax bill of around £300,000. “Yaroo”, as his favourite Beano characters would say. Of course, any sensible freelancer would have kept money aside for the taxman. It is fair to speculate that the man who actually regaled in the title “First Lord of the Treasury” at the time probably didn’t.

Renovations were completed just in time for Liz Truss to move into the lavishly redecorated flat – Boris’s removal having been speeded up by Dominic Cummings leaking the embarrassing details.

It’s funny how history repeats itself. In the first six months after his ejection from No 10, Johnson raked in £5m from speeches and book deals while still an MP. He and Carrie started spaffing cash at an epic rate. They bought a £3.8m mansion in the picturesque Oxfordshire village of Brightwell-cum-Sotwell, which boasts nine bedrooms, five bathrooms, six reception rooms, and features dating back to the 1600s, not to mention five acres of land with a guest cottage, tennis court, walled garden and two stables. The couple quickly won permission to rebuild a wing and embarked on a renovation of the rest.

If money is not the only motive behind Johnson’s Edinburgh fundraiser, then speculation will inevitably turn to him plotting a political comeback. Coincidentally, his favourite newspaper, The Telegraph, ran a prominent article just a week ago saying he is “bored” and “eyeing up” the prospects for a return to leadership. With the Conservatives running third behind Reform and Labour, it is not completely unreasonable for him to fantasise that an exhausted and desperate party might beg him to return.

This is what Boris dreams most about when gazing over his moat and acres. He even gave a clue in his resignation speech outside No 10 when he declared: “Like Cincinnatus, I am returning to my plough.” Cincinnatus held power twice, being recalled from rural retirement when Rome was in dire peril.

Nevertheless, a comeback is highly unlikely, especially given that most of his key allies were kicked out of their seats in the 2024 election. So, the most sensible interpretation of the non-denial he gave to the story – “I’m working flat out on writing some books and building a new kitchen” – is that no attention-seeker ever tries to douse speculation about himself. And who knows, maybe the biography of Shakespeare that he was paid an £80k advance for a decade ago is finally being written.

Meanwhile, if any readers are tempted to shell out £121.25 for a selfie with Boris, I have a money-saving tip. Simply buy him a Greggs sausage roll for £1.30 at any railway station, and the ex-PM will cheerfully pose for a picture. It worked for me!