Boris Johnson, and the longest kiss goodbye

LONDON: Boris Johnson is the condemned man who refuses to die. For seven months, hardly without a week's intermission, he has blustered his way through a series of scandals and pratfalls that would have toppled most titans of post-war British politics. To the intense irritation of his rivals, he refused to accept the political death sentence.

By tea time on Tuesday, the almost simultaneous resignation of Chancellor of the Exchequer Rishi Sunak and Health Secretary Sajid Javid, however, looked like the end at last for the UK's mercurial prime minister. A slew of junior ministers followed in their wake. At furious speed, No. 10 cobbled together untested replacements. The sound of barrels being scraped resounded around Westminster.

This time, his premiership seems fatally wounded. How long the demise takes will determine the possible outcome of the UK's next election and the future of his party.

Sunak and Johnson were supposed to make a joint statement on the economy next week. But the chancellor was frustrated by the air of permanent crisis hanging over government and contradictory policy-making: his resignation letter declared he had been prepared to compromise and accept collective responsibility for decisions he didn't agree with, but his differences with the prime minister were now too great to continue in office. In other words, the prime minister wants to buy off voters enraged by tax rises and inflation while the chancellor has nightmares about the mounting deficit. Sunak's fiscal orthodoxy could no longer be reconciled with Johnson's free-spending ways.