O brave new world, that has such people in’t. Or not. William Shakespeare clearly had never imagined a clusterfuck on this scale. Given the state of the country right now, he would be in need of a long lie down. It would take more than a few prayerful tweets from Justin Welby to sort this one out. On the road outside the Queen Elizabeth II conference centre, a few environmental protesters glued themselves together while Steve Bray competed with a group of evangelists to provide a backing track. Some things never change. Just inside the main entrance, James Cleverly held court. The meeter and greeter with a smile for everyone. A man at peace with himself. Someone who knew he had backed the right horse. In the foyer, Iain Duncan Smith wandered around in search of a camera to say something to. He’s not fussy. No day is complete without him having recorded some dull opinion for posterity. Over in the corner, a grinning Liz Truss shuffled herself into a lift accompanied by Thérèse Coffey, who is tipped to become health secretary. There was no sign of Rishi Sunak. The excitement was almost excitement. No one was expecting any surprises. All the polls conducted over the past two months had indicated the leadership contest was a protracted coronation rather than an election. So those Tory MPs who had bothered to walk over from Westminster were really only there for the hell of it. And to be seen. It never hurts to look as if you’ve always backed the winner. Or – in the case of Dominic Raab, a vocal Sunak backer – to kiss goodbye to the rest of his political career. A Truss government isn’t all bad, then. Shortly after 12.30, the lights went up and Andrew Stephenson, the Tory party co-chair, took to the stage. The Conservatives had been in good voice and good strength during the hustings, he said. He must have been watching a different election campaign from the rest of us. He then thanked Boris Johnson for ... being Boris Johnson. It seems to have been long forgotten that the Convict had been the architect of his own downfall. That he had broken the law, protected sex pests and lied and lied and lied. Now he is a latter-day Tory party saint. For the first time, the applause felt genuine. Just weird. The Tories were electing a new leader while still grieving one they had themselves deposed. “I’d like you to welcome Liz Truss and Rishi Sunak,” Stephenson said in winding up. Truss bounced in. Sunak not so much. He looked as if he would rather be anywhere else than at the scene of his final humiliation. He also seemed confused, as if he still couldn’t work out why he had lost to someone so obviously less competent. He had been ready to be leader. How come no one had been Ready 4 Rishi? There was no logic. No sense. You only needed to listen to her staccato, robotic voice to realise just how useless she was. The country had already worked her out. A new poll showed that the Labour lead grew by seven percentage points when people realised Radon Liz was in charge of the Tories. In a nice twist, most of the humiliation was reserved for Truss herself – almost all of it of her own making. First though came the announcement by Graham Brady, the always pleased-with-himself chair of the 1922 Committee. Truss had won. Of course she had. We didn’t need to be told that. But it was a victory so small, so pyrrhic, that there was no glory. IDS punched the air. He was no longer the most disliked Tory leader of all. That was quite some title for Liz to live down to. It wasn’t just the entire country and two-thirds of her own MPs who didn’t want Truss. It was well over half of the Tory party membership. Of a possible 170,000 votes – assuming all Tory members are actually alive – Radon Liz had secured just 80,000. But that was apparently enough to make her the UK’s next prime minister. Good luck to us. Democracy moves in mysterious ways. Then came the speech. If you can call it that. More a word salad. Imagine it. You’ve known for two months that you’re going to win. And all you’ve got to do is a five-minute acceptance speech. Just something anodyne and uncontroversial. Something that proves you’re at least semi-sentient. Yet all Truss could come up with was a mumbling monotone that would have been booed at a fringe meeting at a Tory party conference. “I think we have shown the depth and breadth of talent in the Conservative party,” she began. Really? Are you mad? What it’s really shown is that the Tories are a spent force. And that they are scraping the barrel in their search for a new leader. What were the chances of finding someone worse than Johnson? Actually quite high, considering the diminishing gene pool. Truss then went on an amnesiac’s tour of Boris highlights. “You are admired from Kyiv to Carlisle,” she said. Yup. And hated in Scotland and Northern Ireland. And actually in Carlisle, which has just elected a Labour council. There was an awkward few seconds’ pause as Truss waited for applause. Eventually a few Tories put her out of her misery and obliged. The rest of the speech was even more pitiful. Some achievement. She was going to deliver. And deliver. And deliver. She had no idea what. Or indeed any comprehension she had been in the cabinet since 2014 and might have been expected to deliver in the intervening years. The clockwork ran down and Radon Liz slurred her way to a stop. There had been nothing about uniting the country. Nothing on the cost of living. Just a vague hope she might win the next election in 2024 if Labour refused to take part. It could hardly have gone any worse. You could see panic in the eyes of some Tory MPs. They had somehow imagined that Truss might miraculously transform into the coherent, plausible leader they had been promised during the campaign. Yet here she was, flatlining before their eyes. If she lasts a year it will be a miracle. Then we’ll all be back in the QEII centre to anoint someone even worse.