A vast, white, pulsing worm

Johnson 'will listen to voters', he says. The only person Johnson has ever listened to is himself. For Johnson it could not be otherwise: he has only the vaguest notion that people other than himself exist, how could he listen to their vague, distant cries and murmurings over the vast, warm, glutinous sound of his own wonderful voice.

For Johnson, the world is only Johnson: a vast, white, pulsing worm consuming all it encounters to turn it into more segments of itself.

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