Cressida had to go ...but incompetent Khan is no better

IT MAY BE lovely being the head honcho of a large organisation, but the buck really does stop there... as Dame Cressida Dick has just discovered.

In her case, that buck was double-sized in that she had a self-serving overlord, the useless Sadiq Khan, Mayor of London, who put the boot in as fast as he could.

As far back as the mistaken shooting of Brazilian Jean Charles de Menezes – killed by police when Dick was on duty as Gold Commander – the Met has been riven with failures and scandals. It could not go on.

But for Khan to jubilate was obscene. He has failed in everything he has touched so our capital, once amongst the finest in Europe, is a logjamriddled mess. He, alas, has more than two years left to run.

IF ANYTHING has saved Boris Johnson from a successful putsch to topple him it has been this: there is simply no viable successor waiting in the wings. Except, maybe there is.

Lord Frost, pictured, is seldom known by his first name David thanks to sharing it with the late TV star, but his record is remarkable. What he was tasked to do – negotiate Brexit from a theory to a reality – succeeded completely.

That alone marked him out as being rare as hen’s teeth. Then he walked out on an issue of principle – remember them? He disapproved of unnecessary lockdowns – and was quite right.

If the Tory Party wants to save itself from the disenchantment millions of once-Tory voters feel about the current Downing Street cabal, he should be brought back in and groomed for successorship.

He still believes in the Tory creed – small government, low taxes, minimal bureaucracy, incentives for prosperity and support for commerce and industry.

If he could help make those a reality, he could be our next man.

THE word in the English language I dislike most is “bleak”. It’s only five letters but implies cold, raw, wet and grey. Also charmless, depressing and utterly devoid of cheer.

One of our dreariest poems begins “In the bleak midwinter”.

This year January left lightly but February is bleak. I can, with difficulty, wait for it to be over.

The Romans got it right. They named January the time of new openings and March the month to break out of camp to return to the pursuit of Mars. February they called the month of fevers. They were right. Roll on March.