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The triumphant art of self-publicity

October 28 2001 BOOKS

FRIENDS, VOTERS, COUNTRYMEN

by Boris Johnson

HarperCollins £14.99 pp241

HOW TO LOSE FRIENDS & ALIENATE PEOPLE

by Toby Young

Little, Brown £9.99 pp256

ROLAND WHITE

It was long ago predicted that Boris Johnson will one day be leader of the Conservative party, and the way the Tories are getting through leaders it might soon be his turn. But first he'll have to cut out the jokes.

Here is his problem: other MPs, freshly arrived at Westminster after the general election this year, probably threw themselves into tricky problems of benefit entitlement, revision of pension regulations and the European Communities (Amendment) bill. Johnson, by contrast, has been writing an amusing book that pokes fun at the very essence of politics: elections. Any more of this and he'll spend the next 30 years as a blond version of Tony Banks, which is no fate for any man.

He could start by burning his collection of P G Wodehouse and his copy of Ronald Searle's Down with Skool!. This will probably dampen his prose style, but will do wonders for his gravitas. Johnson's is the first book I have read in years to contain the word "spifflicated", and they generally don't like that sort of talk in the Conservative party. Johnson's account tells how he came to be the MP for Henley-upon-Thames. Hunting for votes amid the Waitroses and wisteria of south Oxfordshire, he reminded me of the Hon Freddie Threepwood, second son of Wodehouse's Earl of Blandings and enthusiastic salesman for Donaldson's Dog Joy. Like the Hon Freddie, Johnson knows of no better brand and is baffled when the country doesn't seem to be snapping up conservatism. And, like Freddie's, Johnson's sales technique is reassuringly amateur. "Our next stop is Thame," Johnson writes of May 12, "where we launch our programme of action by - you guessed it - having lunch." Campaigning in the rain, he drops all his leaflets. An attempt to untie some balloons causes a small fire in the back of the car.

If you have ever wondered whether you might enjoy a stab at parliament, read this book. It is a gruelling business. You'll have to move house, the local paper will make you eat cakes shaped like hats (after Johnson made a rash prediction about the timing of the election), and complete strangers will insult you for your sense of humour and, in Johnson's case, for having a head that would win first prize at a fatstock show.

Like Johnson, Toby Young is a dab hand at the self-deprecating joke. How to Lose Friends & Alienate People may be the longest self-deprecating joke since the complete works of Woody Allen. It tells how Young, a journalist and son of the man who invented the Open University, was offered the career chance of a lifetime, a trial contract on Vanity Fair magazine, and how he blew it with a championship-winning display of saying and doing the wrong thing.

In an office that is precious and politically correct, he hires a strippergram, failing to notice it is Take Your Daughter to Work day. He insults the editor by photocopying an article written by the editor early in his career and pushing it under his door, complete with a smart remark written on it. As career moves go, these were the worst since Abraham Lincoln booked theatre tickets. But they make a magnificent read.

The book opens with Young trying to talk his way into the magazine's Oscar-night party, the best in town, by pretending to be a friend, who has an invitation. Unfortunately, the friend shows up. "Don't let that man in," says Young. "He's a notorious gatecrasher". Young gets in, makes an attempt to impress Kenneth Branagh and Amanda de Cadenet, but is discovered and ejected. Which leads us nicely to the central theme of the book. Young yearns to mix it with the glossy folk, perhaps in the hope that celebrity and glamour will rub off. Except that, once he pushes his way into the golden circle, he has nothing but contempt for it. This is partly why he fails at Vanity Fair. He wants to write articles that tease the rich and famous. Vanity Fair wants to be their best friends. This is a lively read, though, and his publisher is probably pestering him for another. Perhaps he should stand for parliament: bound to be a book in that.

Available at Books Direct prices of £11.99 (Boris Johnson) and £9.99 plus £1.95 p&p on 0870 165 8585