Hardeep Singh Kohli: Who's the buffoon now Boris is in charge?

A FRIEND of mine last week characterised the battle as between "the alleged anti-Semite and the fop-haired blond buffoon". You might have guessed – they were talking about London and the race to become its new mayor. And the victor was none other than Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson.

Ordinarily I wouldn't bore Scottish readers with such parochial issues, but letting Boris loose on one of the world's most important cities should worry us all.

Red Ken's days are over. While we had strong opinions about Livingstone, at least we knew what he stood for. He brought us the Congestion Charge, making us pay £8 a day to enter an ever-increasing expanse of London; and the Oyster card, a revolutionary travelcard that makes using public transport laughably straightforward. He is a man of the left in a way that is still recognisable.

The problem with Boris is that with the exception of his vitriolic and somewhat irrational hatred of London's bendy buses, no one knows what he actually believes.

Boris is not a bad man; he seems a completely loveable character in every way shape and form. So well-liked is he that, like Madonna, Elvis and Jesus, he is known only by his first name.

I can't think of anyone else I would rather have round for dinner than the former member for Henley. He would be wildly entertaining, funny and deeply knowledgeable about all manner of matters. (I have worked with his father, Stanley Johnson, the environmentalist, and he too is a thoroughly smashing, decent and upstanding bloke.) These are all laudable qualities, but are they credentials to run the country's, the continent's and maybe even the world's most important city? What does he – and his Tory friends – intend for London? It could be a long four years.

Now, I have a confession to make. I did not vote this time round. On the last two occasions I placed my tick in the box next to Ken because I believed, rightly or wrongly, that he cared about London and that he had the weight and depth and wherewithal to make a difference. But he has looked and sounded tired of late and become embroiled in one too many scandals.

I quite liked the look of Brian Paddick, the former Met police commander, but a Liberal Democrat will never run London. And I couldn't vote for Boris because I could never vote for a Tory – never, not having grown up witnessing the damage and destruction of Thatcherism.

I was stumped, and I know I wasn't alone. A lot of my fellow Londoners were battle-weary with Ken but could never vote for the right-wing candidate. Many expressed astonishment that, just as Ken won his first term in office as an independent, no one else took his lead this time and stood as a party-free candidate. If ever a city was to attract a high-profile independent, then surely London was that city?

I was flummoxed and simply couldn't decide where to place my allegiance. So whatever happens to London in the next four years, I will have absolutely no right to say anything. The loser in this election is me.

Tragic Minnie's highest accolade

You may be familiar with the work of Minnie Riperton. The Chicago-born singer with the five-octave range died tragically young of cancer at the age of 31. She is perhaps best remembered for her high-note hitting classic 'Lovin' You', which she professed to be easy because the man in question was so beautiful. I was round at Dexter's the other night playing cards and chatting, the way men do, when he played this beautiful music. Dexter could see I was dumbstruck. He informed me that the silken voiced chanteuse was none other than Ms Riperton. I rushed out and bought Les Fleurs, the Minnie Riperton Anthology. I can safely say that nearly 30 years after her death I find her very easy to love. Coz she's beautiful.

Three score and ten, give or take a ton

Traffic cop: Sir, have you any idea what speed you were travelling?

My friend (in his new car): Erm… well… how about 70?

Traffic cop: I have recorded you travelling at an average of 102 miles per hour sir, over a stretch of approximately 2.3 miles.

My friend: Right. But I definitely looked down at the speedometer a moment ago and saw that I was doing 70. Which is fine on the motorway, yeah?

Traffic cop: If you were doing 70 at one point sir, the law of averages suggests that you must have also been travelling at about 130.

My friend (working it out in his head]: Right. I get it. It's probably best if I keep quiet, eh?

Traffic cop: Yes sir.

Fully booked? This is a job for Super-Singh

The new series of Heroes is back, coinciding with the release of Robert Downey Jr's new movie Iron Man. Both continue our obsession with the superhero – humans with powers that elevate them to another plane of existence. I grew up with Superman, Spiderman, Wonder Woman and the rest, and ever since a young age I have dreamt of owning and possessing a unique superpower. Which would it be? Invisibility, so I could attend Cabinet meetings and see how government really worked? A bionic eye so I could see things very far away? I was quite taken with Wonder Woman and her truth lasso. What a cracking superpower/superimplement to possess. That was until I realised that it completely cocked up the narrative of every adventure. Why didn't Linda Carter simply employ the truth lasso at the beginning of every show? This would have led to a quick denouement and a 15-minute episode.

Having reached the age I have reached, I have realised that bionic eyes, invisibility and truth lassos are all frankly useless. The superpower I wish for is the one that can get me a hotel room, a flight, a lunch table when places are fully booked. I will call this Cancellation-Power. My power would make third parties cancel their bookings allowing me to ghost into their hotel room/flight/lunch table. Saving the world can wait.