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The Maybot asked us to strengthen her hand over Brexit – we declined The Maybot asked us to strengthen her hand over Brexit – we declined
(about 1 hour later)
As the exit poll was announced on the stroke of 10, the opinion room at ITN went into a state of shock. Only a few stunned cheers from Labour supporters broke the silence. As the exit poll was announced on the stroke of 10pm, the opinion room at ITN went into a state of shock. Only a few stunned cheers from Labour supporters broke the silence. The script of the general election had been shredded.
The entire script of the general election had been shredded. If the polls were anywhere near correct then the Supreme Leader had blown a 20-point lead in just seven weeks and would end up with fewer seats than David Cameron in 2015. The Maybot had asked the country to strengthen her hand in the Brexit negotiations and the country had replied: “If it’s all the same with you, we don’t think we’ll bother.” If the polls were anywhere near correct, the supreme leader had blown a 20-point lead in seven weeks and would end up with fewer seats than David Cameron in 2015. The Maybot had asked the country to strengthen her hand in the Brexit negotiations and the country had replied: “If it’s all the same with you, we don’t think we’ll bother.”
Certainly no one in the spin room had a clue what was coming. On the way in I had bumped into Robert Peston. “What’s your prediction?” I asked. “Who knows?” he had said. “A Tory majority of about 80?” I asked the same of the columnist Matthew Parris. “A Tory majority of 67,” he had replied. “But I am only being that precise to sound as if I know what I’m talking about.” Even so, both he and Peston sounded entirely plausible. Once the exit poll had been released, I made a beeline for Camilla Cavendish, who worked for Cameron in the No 10 policy unit. Surely her old boss must be feeling a little bit of schadenfreude at the Maybot’s apparent demise? “Oh no,” she said loyally. “He’s really not that type of person.”
Once the exit poll result had been released, I caught up with Camilla Cavendish who had worked for Cameron in the No 10 policy unit. Surely her old boss must be feeling a little bit of schadenfreude at the Maybot’s apparent demise? “Oh no,” she said loyally. “He’s really not that type of person.” Not even a little bit? “Absolutely not.” But one member of the ancien régime wasn’t quite so good at disguising their emotions. George Osborne was an ITV studio guest and there was a definite sparkle in his eye as the Tories were predicted to win 314 seats. But after the momentary sense of elation and vindication, there was a longer expression of barely concealed regret. If he hadn’t been quite so quick to abandon his career on the backbenches for the editorship of the Evening Standard, he might have been one of the frontrunners to take over the Conservative leadership within a matter of weeks.
But one member of the ancien régime wasn’t quite so good at disguising his emotions. George Osborne was one of ITV’s studio guests and there was a definite sparkle in his eye as the Tories were predicted to get just 314 seats. But after the momentary sense of elation and vindication, there was a longer expression of barely concealed regret. If he hadn’t been quite so quick to abandon his career on the backbenches for the editorship of the Evening Standard, then he might have been one of the frontrunners to take over the leadership of the Tory party within a matter of weeks. By now it was clear that no one really knew what they were talking about. Of all the outcomes that had been rehearsed, the possibility of a hung parliament never really featured. On the Google screen, the main subject trending was: “What happens next to Theresa May?” It was a question that would go unanswered throughout the night. As would most others. The young people had turned out in large numbers and everything was up for grabs. The hard Brexit the Maybot had considered a done deal was now a distant memory. As were Angus Robertson and Nick Clegg.
By now it was clear that no one really knew what they were talking about. Of all the outcomes that had been rehearsed, the possibility of a hung parliament had never really featured. On the Google screen, the main subject trending was: “What happens next to Theresa May?” It was a question that would go unanswered throughout the night. As would most others. The young people had turned out in numbers and everything was now up for grabs. The hard Brexit that the Maybot had considered a done deal was now a distant memory. Ed Balls, another studio guest, appeared to be experiencing similar mixed emotions to Osborne. Ecstatic at the apparent Labour revival and gutted not to be at the centre of it. He had come prepared to write Jeremy Corbyn’s obituary and was having to ad lib tentative praise.
Ed Balls, another studio guest, appeared to be experiencing similar mixed emotions to Osborne: ecstatic at the apparent Labour revival and gutted not to be at the centre of it. He had come prepared to write Jeremy Corbyn’s obituary and was now having to ad-lib tentative praise. But the longer the night went on the more the personal disappointment dissipated. Tribal loyalties die hard and watching Tories suffer the hubris brought on by their own complacency was just too much fun. “It’s a total mess,” he said happily. But the longer the night went on, the more the personal disappointment dissipated. Tribal loyalties die hard and watching Tories suffer the hubris brought on by their own complacency was just too much fun. “It’s all a total mess,” Balls said happily.
It was hard to know which party was more caught on the hop, the Tories or Labour. Both sides were lost for words. Michael Gove was first to rally to the Conservative cause by pointing out that exit polls could be wrong and that it was too early to rush to judgment. But he still looked as if he knew the game was up. It was hard to know which party was more caught on the hop, the Tories or Labour. Both sides were lost for words. Michael Gove was first to rally to the Conservative cause by pointing out that exit polls could be wrong and it was too early to rush to judgment. But he still looked as if he knew the game was up.
Even if the Maybot was to squeeze over the line with a narrow majority, her authority would be destroyed. She would be a laughing stock in the country and the Tories would never forgive her. As Gove spoke, Lynton Crosby was quietly handing back his knighthood. No one would ever trust him to run a general election again. A red-eyed Liam Fox could barely remember his own name. The studio manager passed him a tissue to wipe his tears and bundled him into a cab. Even if the Maybot were to squeeze over the line with a narrow majority, her authority would be destroyed. She would be a laughing stock in the country and the Tories would never forgive her. As Gove spoke, Lynton Crosby was quietly handing back his knighthood. No one would ever trust him to run a general election again. A red-eyed Liam Fox could barely remember his name. The studio manager passed him a tissue to wipe his tears and bundled him into a cab.
Shortly after midnight, John McDonnell appeared, trying his best not to gloat. The shadow chancellor has never knowingly let a smile grace his mouth but there were definite signs of pleasure. He too was insistent that it was still too soon to make any predictions. But it wasn’t quite. The one prediction everyone could safely make was that almost every polling company had got their sums wrong yet again. Labour was cleaning up in London and even winning seats in Scotland. Shortly after midnight, John McDonnell appeared, trying his best not to gloat. The shadow chancellor has never knowingly let a smile grace his mouth, but there were definite signs of pleasure.
The only person who seemed to be almost entirely unbothered by the turn of events was Stanley Johnson. “Isn’t this exciting?” he said cheerfully. It was unlikely his son Boris was feeling the same way. It was still early in the night but it was looking like turning into a long, hard one for the Tories. He too was insistent that it was still too soon to make any predictions. But it wasn’t quite. The one prediction everyone could safely make was that almost every polling company had got their sums wrong yet again. Labour was cleaning up in London and even winning seats in Scotland.
The only person who seemed to be almost entirely unbothered by the turn of events was Stanley Johnson. “Isn’t this exciting?” he said cheerfully. It was also possible that his son Boris was feeling much the same way.
Speaking at his count at 3am, Boris was at his most un-Boris like. No gags, just his best attempt at statesmanship. Even to the untrained eye it looked like a naked leadership bid. The Conservatives may be having a nightmare, but Boris wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity.
Half an hour later, the Maybot turned up for her own count in Maidenhead. She looked straight ahead, trying not to catch anyone’s eye. Her speech spoke of stability but indicated the exact opposite. At best the Tories would be hanging on only with the support of the DUP.
The Maybot had achieved what everyone had imagined impossible. She had inflicted more damage on the Tory party than anyone other than Tony Blair. Overnight the supreme leader had proved herself to be anything but supreme.