The runners and riders for the great Tory leadership race.

The runners and riders for the great Tory leadership race.

And they're under starters orders and they're off. The great Tory leadership steeplechase is under way and there's no telling who might win this race. The seasoned thoroughbreds are not in the best of form, the geldings at the back are just struggling to find their feet and the favourites have been revealed to have taken cocaine. You simply couldn't make this one up.

When Theresa May left 10 Downing Street little did she know that just a couple of feet away from her there were a hungry bunch of power crazy, ambitious politicians just waiting for the right moment to feast on the remnants of an ex Prime Minister. Politicians can be both cruel and heartless at times but surely we couldn't have seen this one coming. No sooner was Mrs May out on her ear than a pack of devouring wolves have got hold of their prey and are now taking a sadistic delight in her departure.

But really how could they? The runners and riders, as they've now been affectionately called, are jockeying for position, knowing full well that one or several of them will fall quite heavily at a forbidding fence. Some of them, as has now been well documented, are not quite the squeaky clean, pure and puritanical cabinet ministers we might have thought them to be. In a previous chapter of their lives, a whole gallery of the great and good have now confessed to drug taking. Shock, horror!

So here we are in the early half of the enlightened 21st century and the British government have once again been exposed as charlatans, spivs, opportunists and now under chemical influences. This is not entirely unprecedented since in previous generations, both Tories and Labour parties have done their utmost to exorcise their demons, to unveil the rattling skeletons in their cupboards. And yet here we are in 2019, still saddled with deviousness, rank with corruption and up to our eyeballs with politicians who, in their defence, have now bravely confessed to their misdemeanours.

In recent days the Honourable - or perhaps that should be not so honourable - Michael Gove has admitted quite sheepishly that he did take cocaine when he was younger and much more naive. But, honestly, how on earth have we come to this? We knew that the likes of Gove, Boris Johnson, Jeremy Hunt were only interested in the outright occupation of 10 Downing Street but these seedy, lurid drug taking revelations have now dragged the whole of the government down to the lowest common denominator.

It is easy now to just express disgust and condemnation since this is the common reaction to something so sickening and repulsive. We may hold up our hands in indignation at the sheer breakdown of moral standards within society. We may wonder whatever happened to decency and good, old fashioned honesty in the highest echelons of the political elite. What happened, above all, to the truth, the assurance that before they go to bed at night, the politicians of Westminster can go to sleep with a clear conscience rather than wrestle with it?

Now though we are faced with a group of politicians who can only squirm with embarrassment at their youthful misdeeds. We can only imagine the opium dens, the free and easy availability of weed and goodness knows only what narcotic substances that must have been exchanged at wildly hedonistic 1960s parties. Then we bury our heads again at the sheer sleazy decadence of it all, the overwhelming regret they may have carried with them for all these years and the acknowledgement that they shouldn't have done it but did.

In the final closing stages of this political story of shame, Jeremy Hunt and Rory Stewart have also shown their credentials and now their true colours. Hunt looks like the kind of building society manager who can't tell you anything about the fluctuations of the interest rate or where exactly Brexit might take us. He looks presentable and well intentioned but the hidden agenda is still there and you wonder where he might be going with his long term plans for the country.

Rory Stewart is similarly easy going and articulate but once again gives the impression of somebody who just wants to get his hands on the keys to 10 Downing Street. He spins his well crafted phrases and then assures us that if he does become Prime Minister he'll do all the right things such as keeping his promises before realising that that may not be a realistic objective at all. We've all been here before with leadership candidates for the role of Prime Minister and we're all familiar with that well known procedure.

Which brings us nicely back to where Boris Johnson came in. How do we know that the careerist, fiercely egotistical Boris would somehow be up for the job of Prime Minister? All along, the blond bombshell from Uxbridge in suburban London, would be heaving and pushing his way past photographers, grinning like a Cheshire cat and vowing to wave a magic wand should he become the chosen one as Prime Minister.

From the moment Theresa May rang the bell for this most heavyweight of contests, Boris has been behaving like one of those comic book heroes who everybody loves and then showers with praise when things go right. The problem is that Johnson is no Dan Dare and those bravura exploits may not be so readily appreciated.

For the rest of us Johnson is still that scruffy, rumpled, dishevelled character who charges around on his bikes as if he were totally in control of everything around him. The blond hair still looks as if it may have to become better acquainted with a comb and the shirt needs to be tucked neatly into his trousers. Somewhere out there is a sit com TV script writer just aching to dig out their laptop. They will undoubtedly have a field day with Boris Johnson because somehow he invites hooting derision. The man is quite literally designed for a comedy club in London's bustling West End.

The chances are that at some point Boris will show his hand and explain quite what he intends to do to make sure that Britain is run properly and efficiently. Already, he has meekly admitted to his penchant for that illegal pill that everybody knew he was taking. Still though, the image of the bumbling buffoon which he may have harshly been tarred with, refuses to go away. The Latin quoting, multi lingual, Churchill biographer may think that he deserves to be favourite We know that he's a  towering intellectual and that may work in his favour when final decisions are made. But the doubts are still nagging and Boris may still think the best is yet to be seen of him.

So there you are Ladies and Gentleman. This is the leadership contest for the most unenviable job in the land. They're coming up to the final furlong and in some imaginary part of your mind you can hear the dulcet tones of Peter O' Sullevan, the BBC voice of horse racing, cheering Kempton Park's finest to the finishing post. The voice will reach a rich crescendo and the crowds will throw their hats into the air. Is it Hunt, will it be Stewart, Gove quite possibly or will Esther Mcvey try to spoil it for the old boys network? If there are any bookmakers who may be scratching their heads out there, you'd be well advised to take a holiday. This could get very nasty.