I know we don’t want to, I know it makes us feel all yakky, but we need to talk about the BJ.

Sometimes, the world throws a delightful stroke of comedy luck your way. So it is with the initials of our chief Brexiteer.

For many years, since he first came to prominence, our nation has been heard to exclaim, “I’ve just ‘ad a Boris Johnson!” after being on the receiving…erm…end of the sexual act of fellatio, aka blow job, aka BJ.

This morning I asked my editor (Google) about the prevelance of blow-job jokes with reference to this soggy sand-bag-of-a-man. Topping the search was an article from today’s Guardian with the headline: ‘Michael Gove delivers the biggest blow to Boris Johnson’…oh such joyful riches of our great language!

Common terms for fellatio range from the technical/anatomical to the daft/comical, reflecting our confusion over whether the act is important or frivolous, silly or serious.

So it is with our confusion over the man.

I first encountered Boris in 1997 when he was assistant editor of the Telegraph and I was a lowly TV researcher on a late-night regional politics show. I could see him on the monitor, in all his bleach-blonde, bed-head glory, but he couldn’t see me. Sitting in a tv studio in London, he could only hear my voice delivered straight into his ear. Before he went live and our presenter took over, I thanked him for being there and asked how he was and he said something droll like: “Bloody knackered but simply THRILLED to be here at 11 o’clock on a Tuesday night, talking to you.” We LOVED Boris. Having Boris on the show was to guarantee some naughty, exuberant and very funny discussion.

But, as with his sexual namesake, what begins as a bit of late-night fun can quickly become a decidedly messy and unpleasant experience.

Now then, my Dad reads this blog so I don’t want to go too deeply (ahem) into the fellatio analogies…[Hi Dad! Don’t worry, I don’t know anything about it personally I promise. I’m just making stuff up here!]…but the importance of the act in everyday life seems to me to be rather over-blown (I’m so sorry). The only circumstances under which the offer of a blow-job need be considered are:

  1. Because you’re a porn star
  2. Because you’re not married and therefore still into doing sex things

In all other situations, it can be gleefully ignored as irrelevant wank (I can’t help it, but am ashamed) which needs to be put back in it’s pants where it belongs (now that was below the belt…OH STOP ME! – I’M BECOMING A PENIS-PUN ADDICT).

So it is with BJ the man. Today we learn that he will not, just yet, become our Prime Minister. But with an ego so grotesquely swollen (THEY ARE UNAVOIDABLE THESE NOB GAGS…gags? Forchrissake…) he will be back in our faces (COME ON!) before we can say “nut-job”. *bows*

As I reach the climax (you are LOVING it now) of this post, I must face the dilemma of what photo to use to accompany a blog that is so overwhelmingly about blow-jobs. Luckily for you (and my Dad, but not my husband) Boris and I are thought to be rather alike in appearance…so I have shared these U-rated pics for your pleasure…is uncanny, no?