In addressing a nation divided between the stir-crazy and the scared witless, Boris Johnson set himself an impossible task. For the hawks and sceptics, he had a disappointing message: “No,

this is not the time simply to end the lockdown this week.” And yet there he was, setting out a “conditional plan” to do precisely that over the next few months and urging those who could to

return to work this week. For some, this sounded quite alarming. For many, it was all rather confusing. For almost everyone, primed as we were to anticipate something dramatic, it was bound

to be an anti-climax. Worst of all, from the Prime Minister’s point of view, was the fact that this was not — could not be — a typically Johnsonian performance. It was not a speech,

devilish illness” made the ordeal that he and thousands of others have survived sound like taking on the Luftwaffe in a Spitfire), this televised address could have been written by committee

— and probably was. It was so tentative, so hedged about with warnings and caveats, that it fell short of instilling the confidence that the country craves. In short, it was so full of

“ifs” that it was iffy. The Prime Minister’s edging-towards-the-exit strategy will be subjected to merciless scrutiny in Parliament today at the hands of his new opponent across the despatch

box, Sir Keir Starmer. He will voice all these criticisms of the form, and many more of the substance, in a manner that will doubtless be praised by the media as “forensic”. The new Labour

leader is still enjoying his honeymoon, perhaps the only person in locked-down England to have had one. His transmogrification from Jeremy Corbyn’s hapless alter ego to director of pandemic

prosecutions has been rapid and complete. At Prime Minister’s Questions last week, Boris Johnson found his inquisitor more than a match and graciously conceded almost every point. He knows

that he must raise his game. Clearly, the Oxford Union style won’t cut it any more. Yet the Prime Minister still enjoys a large measure of goodwill. Those who have always loathed him still

do, of course. They include a preponderance of the great and good, who often turn out to be remarkably great and good haters. One such is that national treasure Miriam Margolyes, who has

admitted that while he was in intensive care, “I had difficulty not wanting Boris Johnson to die. I wanted him to die.”   Opinion polls, however, suggest that the PM’s popularity has hardly

slipped since it broke all records during his hospitalisation. The majority who elected him less than six months ago, including those millions of all-important former Labour voters, still

trust him to get the country through the Covid-19 nightmare. His evidently sincere efforts to use the power and resources of the state to spread the burdens fairly went down well. Now his

refusal to yield to the demands of business and his own backbenchers by lifting the lockdown in short order means that he has kept faith with the electorate. “We will be driven not by mere

hope or economic necessity,” he declared. “We are going to be driven by the science, the data and public health.” Translated, this means turning a blind eye to powerful Tory donors and,

indeed, many of his oldest chums, in favour of his new friends in the North. He is stubbornly sticking to his chosen course while recognising “that this campaign against the virus has come

at colossal cost to our way of life”. The Prime Minister may take heart from the example of Margaret Thatcher. In 1981, at the nadir of her first administration, the social cost of her

economic medicine was terrible to behold. With unemployment climbing to three million, eye-watering tax rises, the economy shrinking, inflation still not obviously under control, and the

unions undefeated, it was no surprise that some of the “Wets” in her own Cabinet lost their nerve. Never popular before, both she and her Government plumbed the depths in the polls. Yet she

came through it all and — with the help of General Galtieri’s seizure of the Falklands — triumphed in the end. Compared to Mrs Thatcher’s predicament, Boris Johnson has a manageable task.

But he will need to draw on his present fund of goodwill to survive the vicissitudes of unlocking the economy. Across the Channel, Emmanuel Macron’s popularity has dipped since he began to

relax the even stricter French lockdown. In Germany, Angela Merkel faces the unpalatable prospect of applying her “emergency brake” and reimposing lockdown measures, after the R, or

reproduction rate, crept back to 1.1, signalling a second wave of infections across the country. In the UK, the R is still below 1, but could quickly climb again once restrictions are eased.

Even the very modest relaxation announced this week could be interpreted by some groups as permission to ignore the rules. According to one study, more than half of young men aged 13 to 24

admitted meeting groups of friends in defiance of the lockdown. As Boris Johnson put it in his statement, “it is coming down the mountain that is often more dangerous”. Still convalescent,

he faces a tough week during which he, his ministers and their scientific advisers will come under scrutiny and criticism from all sides. Whoever said that the politics of pandemic would be

easy? Meanwhile the country must pick its way through the darkness, finding a path between the twin perils of poverty and pestilence. Boris may not be everybody’s idea of a sherpa, but he is

the best one we have.