LIFE is full of “What ifs” - speculating on what might have been...history not re-written, but re-visited.

This month we have seen Ray Connolly’s inventive novella ‘Sorry, boys, you didn’t pass the audition’ where producer George Martin turned down the Fab Four.

We have also seen the less impressive but still a quirky re-imagining What if in the film Yesterday where The Beatles are wiped off the world’s memory banks.

The chilling Len Deighton novel SS-GB asked What if Hitler had won the war and the swastika flew over Westminster?

There are so many other What ifs to ponder.

What if musical legend Buddy Holly never boarded the aeroplane in Iowa in 1959 and didn’t perish at 22?

What if peace-makers JFK, Gandi and John Lennon had not been assassinated?

People have often said What if Boris Johnson actually became Prime Minister?

Well, now we know.

It’s just as I predicted more than 33 years ago when I first met him at Oxford. I have followed his career ever since.

While I’ve grown greyer he is still blonde.

He has said receiving £250k for writing his newspaper columns is chicken feed.

I wish I knew the feeling.

As I was studying English literature and public speaking at Ruskin College Boris was at Balliol learning how to be Prime Minister.

He was also a born public speaker.

I knew that one day I would see him standing in Churchillian mode at the official lectern outside Downing Street.

No ifs or buts - a phrase which , ironically, has become his new mantra when talking about Leaving the EU.

Back in 1986 I watched him speaking on many occasions. It didn’t matter what the subject was he wasn’t going to tolerate defeat.

He really did pass the audition.

But that was then and this is now.

I don’t have that many journalistic ambitions left but I would like to sit down with him over a non-alcoholic lager - a lot’s changed in my life three decades on, though I hear he is still partial to the odd red wine.

I’d like to know what Boris really believes.

What if he has changed?

What if he becomes the greatest PM this country has ever known?

As the pound sinks and he is jeered on his charm tour in Scotland and Wales thick-skinned Boris simply reaffirms why he went into politics . . . because ‘they don’t erect statues to journalists.’

What if he was joking?

Sadly, for once, I doubt it.

LIKE mother - like son. My mum is still a very loyal Liverpool FC supporter.

She developed a genuine dislike of arch-rivals Manchester United.

That passion remains as another soccer season awaits.

In my mind I have a special action replay of her dedication to our Reds the unforgettable day she bought a vacuum cleaner.

It was only when she took it out of the box at home that she noticed it was called a Red Devil.

The name of this device was thus unacceptable it was the same as Man United’s nickname.

Mum demanded a refund and bought a less controversial model.

Now vacuum cleaners called Dyson have no place in my home since the dis-loyal billionaire Brexit-loving inventor James Dyson moved his HQ from Wiltshire to to Singapore.

He will continue to clean up and so will I but with a brush and pan made in Blighty.

WHILE open air theatre is booming in Chester, Wirral is also gaining a strong reputation for this most delightful of creative genres.

This summer we have seen the Hillbark Players at Royden Park with A Midsummer Night’s Dream. And currently our Wirral Globe Arts Ambassadors Off the Ground are touring also with the Bard’s fantasy.

Most recently a tremendous version of Harold Pinter’s Ashes to Ashes took place at Birkenhead Priory courtesy of a Wirral-based company.

So here’s a suggestion to Imagine Wirral: how about a Wirral Open Air Theatre Festival in 2020 to celebrate our adaptable open spaces and - if rain stops play - the equally historic interiors. We could make other boroughs green with envy.

Now that’s what I call culture.

BY JOVE...I once had a joke accepted by Ken Dodd which he quickly dismantled and re-built but then delivered on stage. I am proud that it remained in his marathon set list.

Another claim to fame is contributing a few local gags to Basil Brush. Boom Boom!

I had interviewed him on the phone (don’t laugh, dear reader, I once chatted to Sooty down the line too and he can’t even talk). Basil was playing a sell- out show at the much-missed Pacific Road Arts Centre. Basil later left me a signed programme to “Mr Peter.”

Now Basil, like that other silver fox , Boris, is re-inventing himself. Fur enough.

After appearing at Glastonbury he is opening tonight at the Edinburgh Fringe with his adult show called Unleashed for four weeks. What if (here I go again) Basil went into politics. he announced yesterday he wants to be PM. Imagine him booming him at the despatch box. Stranger things have happened.

Peter Grant