LONDON — And lo, it has finally come to pass.
After months if not years in which British Prime Minister Theresa May defied political gravity, clinging to office despite the seemingly insurmountable opposition of public, parliament, press and party, the end of May has at last brought about the end of May.
Like a toddler refusing to leave a party, she did not go quietly. The count of three was given more than once. There were warnings, threats, promises and enticements until finally the reluctant child was dragged bodily, screaming and with birthday cake still smeared across her face, from the soft play center that is 10 Downing Street.
The speech that ultimately precipitated her eviction, in which she overplayed her hand by detailing plans her Cabinet had not signed up to, contained perhaps the most honest statement May has ever given on her own feelings about the premiership.
Listing the exhaustive steps she took to find a way through the Brexit impasse, she said: “I offered to give up the job I love earlier than I would like…”
It is said that May was eager to beat former Prime Minister Gordon Brown’s tenure of two-years and 319 days in office, a feat she will reach on May 28.
In a less self-controlled politician it would have come across as the howl of outrage she must secretly have felt: The job I love! I love this job, and yet I would have sacrificed it, for you…
Because if there’s one thing not to be forgotten about May’s time in office it is how badly she wanted to lead her country, and how reluctant she was to let go of power when the time came.
Listening to her passion for being prime minister, one was left wondering how it could possibly be so.
For most of her time in office — at least since her disastrous decision to break her promise not to call a general election — she has been a national figure of fun and the target of jibes. Most, such as “Maybot,” were cruel because they were so accurate.
May never recovered from the humiliation of losing her majority in June 2017, and by the time she had begun seriously to grapple with the thorn in her premiership that was Brexit, it wasn’t just the public that had fallen out of love with her.
Seeing her flail these last months has been like watching a magnificent but ultimately rather pointless exotic creature, a giraffe, perhaps, brought low by a pack of baying hyenas.
Whatever your politics, by the end there was something rather sad about this proud woman forced to endure the humiliation of taunts and disloyalty from not just her political enemies but, eventually, even those she had trusted to sustain her.
How could she possibly say she loved a job that involved being stabbed in the back, defied in private and mocked in public; losing vote after vote in the House of Commons, her authority in Europe and her grip on power, as her fingertips were prized inch by painful inch from the door of No. 10?
But love it she did. Before being made home secretary by then Prime Minister David Cameron in 2010, May had long nursed a grievance at being overlooked by a series of Tory leaders for the biggest frontbench jobs.
Even once she occupied one of the great offices of state, she continued to feel slighted by the Cameroons. Her exclusion from his tight inner circle was a running sore.
A pragmatist in a role where ideology and flexibility are less important than a firm grip and decisive leadership, she shone at the Home Office, further fueling her self-belief.
Becoming prime minister unopposed in 2016 was delicious affirmation. It was just a shame she wasn’t very good at it.
If you look at her premiership by numbers alone, the verdict is damning: May has mislaid a staggering 51 ministers since polling day less than two years ago, including 34 resignations in which some or other aspect of her Brexit policy was named as the cause.
She failed at her first attempt to push her Brexit deal through the House of Commons by 203 votes, the largest parliamentary defeat for a governing party in history. In the vote of confidence called on her leadership in December, 117 of her own MPs sided against her, a third of the total number.
It is said that May was eager to beat former Prime Minister Gordon Brown’s tenure of two years and 319 days in office, a feat she will reach on May 28. Another day, and she’ll overtake the Duke of Wellington. By the time the contest to replace her is concluded, she’ll have outlasted Neville Chamberlain.
Once she has gone, what will she have to show for her time as the 33rd (of 54) longest-serving prime minister in British history, other than a masterclass in remaining in office when no one really wants you there? It is the damning truth that the answer must be: very little.
Britain is a hopelessly divided place; perhaps no politician could have made a success of Brexit. Theresa May certainly tried her very hardest. It was not enough.
In coming to office, May spoke of wishing to establish a meritocracy, a country in which a person’s life chances would not be defined by their background.
There were hints at action on housing, women’s rights, the reform of social care, fairness between the generations and above all a boost for those “ordinary, working-class [families]” May memorably suggested had been overlooked by Westminster.
None of the “burning injustices” May identified in making her pitch for the premiership were doused during it; today they blaze as brightly and as shamefully as ever.
It is May’s tragedy that she was both brought to office and dispatched from it as a result of Brexit, despite having shown little interest in the European Union before her coronation, and none of the nimbleness and dexterity needed to negotiate with it.
Britain is a hopelessly divided place; perhaps no politician could have made a success of Brexit. Theresa May certainly tried her very hardest. It was not enough.
Rosa Prince is the author of “Theresa May, the Enigmatic Prime Minister” (Biteback Publishing, 2017) and “Comrade Corbyn” (Biteback Publishing, 2016).