Boris Johnson: star turn at Britain’s covid inquiry

Hugo KeithKC is the silkiest of silks. Mr Keith does not shout. He does not bark. He does nothing so crass as grilling. He merely asks. He is interested. He sympathises: difficult decisions, he says, rested on Mr Johnson’s shoulders. Mr Johnson and his shoulders do not do well before Mr Keith. Boris’s bonhomie has gone; his shoulders sag. Beneath the table, one shiny foot taps. He apologises for the pain. At one point he is testy; at another, close to tears.Britain’s is not a trial. It might have silky smooth Mr Keith. It might have a (retired) judge and King’s Counsels and grieving relatives and serried ranks of serious people with laptops doing opaque, important things. It might have dialogue peppered with “All rise” and “my lady” and “my learned friend”. It might look in every way like a trial. But it is not a trial.