Liz Truss has brought our divided nation together – in mockery of her

Though times are hard and days are dark, the former PM’s latest book reminds us of the fun to be had when a figure is so ridiculous but cannot see it

In these times of social and political division, it’s worth doing a quick audit of what keeps us together. Where, as we fight over what constitutes “wealth” and whether or not to go back in on Brexit, are the key sites of consensus? The Celebrity Traitors and the gloriousness of Nigella on Bake Off may offer one area of unity; you can say the words “David Attenborough” to any sample of the population and elicit exactly the same murmur of approval. But, as the recent history of the internet shows, the most forceful bonds are those forged against, rather than in favour of, something. With that in mind, let’s turn to our old friend Liz Truss.

It’s an unusual position, isn’t it, wondering if we might owe a debt of gratitude to the former prime minister who, after tanking the value of the pound in 2022 and otherwise carrying on with the efficacy of someone stopped at random in the street and given the keys to government, is widely regarded as the worst ever to have held office. Truss has a book out this week, her second since leaving office, entitled Bank Job: A Short Book on How the Bank of England Broke the Bond Market and Brought Down the Government, and on the evidence of its early reception, it seems likely to prove even more successful in uniting disparate communities of Britain than her previous volume, Ten Years to Save the West.

The government to which she refers in the subtitle is, of course, Truss’s own, which faltered in the wake of her mini-budget four years ago, when she sought to put through £45bn of unfunded tax cuts. Blaming the crash that followed on the Bank of England and the Treasury, the author admits no error, rekindling in observers powerful feelings of fury, mockery, incredulity and shame, plus a release of energy so intense that, like someone kicking in an old TV in a rage room, it might be mistaken for joy.

The Independent’s reviewer called the book “dense, paranoid and peevish”. The Telegraph gave it zero stars and also called it “deranged”. Scottish tabloid the National called it “unhinged”. The Daily Star, which focused on the book’s failure to give an adequate account of the role played by the iceberg lettuce that outlasted Truss’s 49-day tenure, called it “loopy”. Writing on X, Truss’s own former trade minister Conor Burns called her “an international embarrassment with zero self-awareness”, and “financially illiterate”. And so on.

None of these opinions of Truss are new, but condensed as they are into a week of terrible reviews, they perhaps offer us an opportunity to come together to warm our hands around a single point of scorn. Even in a world dominated by horrible characters, this is a rare talent. President Donald Trump, for example, whom Truss has been unsuccessfully trying to suck up to for years, even going so far as to colour-scheme the cover of her last book red (for Republican) rather than blue (for Tory), can do no wrong in certain sections of the US electorate because of what he represents – white supremacy.

But Truss doesn’t represent anything. She is relieved of all political associations. She stands for chaos unrelieved by charm, deepened by the impression she gives of someone receiving orders at a frequency no one else can hear. As an experiment, I tried just now to see if, with a bit of effort, I could drum up some sympathy for Truss, as I have on occasion managed for Theresa May; then I tried to find her funny, as I can sometimes do with Boris Johnson. But no; with Truss it is simply impossible to summon anything but rage and derision.

In light of which, we might say this woman has become a national hero, achieving the seemingly impossible without even trying. In the first weeks after 9/11, Americans in large US cities enjoyed a brief improvement in civic behaviour as reported crime went down. I don’t mean to compare Truss’s premiership to the worst act of terrorism this century, but there is evidence to suggest that when people pull together in the wake of a universally recognised disaster, society briefly improves.

The question, given the damage done by Truss to this country’s standing in the world and to our own sense of political and financial security, is: was it worth it? Obviously not. Still, at the time of writing, as Bank Job sits in the Amazon top 20 and Truss’s belligerent expression stares out, across all media, provoking howls of laughter and explosive diatribes from everyone who looks on her, there are really only two words to say: thank you.