Just imagine a country about to take a giant leap into the unknown. A future sold on the basis of promises no one is certain can be kept. Now imagine the person least suitable to be prime minister at this time. A man whose entire career has been built on lies, deceit and self-destruction. A narcissist whose concentration span barely extends to the end of a senten … On second thoughts, don’t bother. You’ve got him already.

There are a couple of ways of interpreting Boris Johnson’s three-minute cameo posted on his Facebook page at 10pm. Neither shows the prime minister in a particularly good light. The first and the most obvious is that Boris really doesn’t give much of a toss. He’s got what he wanted and can now barely be arsed to go through the motions. His usual lethal combination of boredom and terminal laziness.

Any half-decent prime minister – and bizarrely, Theresa May now almost falls into this category – would have realised that Brexit day was a time to really up their game. To make a live, sincere address to the nation. One that properly acknowledged the significance of the occasion. Boris, not so much. He couldn’t trust himself not to screw up a live broadcast – didn’t he even have a party inside No 10 already arranged? – so he did a quick pre-record the day before. Nor could he be bothered to do more than scribble down a few thoughts off the top of his head. Would this do? It would have to.

The second interpretation is perhaps the more telling. Because there are countless giveaways that Boris is actually embarrassed about what he has done. Think about it this way. How was the prime minister choosing to spend Brexit night? By bunkering down inside No 10 with a handful of staffers while a light show that none of the public were allowed in to see flickered mournfully on the outside of the building.

He did so because he didn’t dare show his face – not even to go on TV – and take ownership of a Brexit that has been hewn in his own image. Shambolic and a bit clueless. Because deep down Boris has never really been a true believer.

Brexit was an ill-fitting carapace he had worn to get into power. He’d never really thought anyone would believe the lies he’d told. It was a game that had suddenly become all too real. The fun had stopped but he couldn’t. Now he was expected to take responsibility for what he had done, he just wanted to hide. The mask of denial and self-deception had momentarily slipped and the Supreme Showman was too ashamed to be seen.

The handheld hostage video opens with a shot of the No 10 front door, which is as close to reassurance and gravitas as we get. Then we cut to the figure of Boris holed up in a cupboard – hey, at least it wasn’t a fridge this time – looking more of a slob than usual. Hair all over the place, eyes a bit bloodshot and a suit that had been thrown on at the last minute. It may have been possible to make less of an effort for one of the most important speeches of his career, but only if he had been sprawled on a wine-stained sofa.

Right chaps and chapesses, Boris barked with ersatz chumminess, the trademark smirk etched on to his face as his left arm waved up and down uncontrollably. Let’s get this over and done with. “Pifflepafflewifflewaffle,” he said. This was a time of celebration for some, anxiety for others and relief for the rest. You can’t help feeling that for Boris alone, Brexit is actually a combination of all three. Though anxiety mainly. He’s not good on keeping his promises.

Boris muttered a few lazy platitudes about how he was the man to bring the country together. And if you didn’t believe him, you could always buy one of his Boris-as-Britannia themed “sod off EU” tea towels from the Conservative party website. A bargain at just £12. “This is a new beginning,” he said. One of the few accurate statements he made. And one of the most terrifying, because even he has to admit he doesn’t have a clue what comes next.

Typically, Johnson then lapsed into contradiction and jingoist bullshit. We had outgrown the EU but we could still be really, really good friends with the EU27 provided we remembered not to tell them we think they are a waste of space. And Britain had the best possible future ahead of it. Because … because we did. We’re Britain and we could do anything. All you had to do was believe. This might have been more convincing if his own expression hadn’t been riddled with self-doubt.

Er … Um … That was about it. He didn’t have anything else to say. And what he had said hadn’t been worth saying. At least not with the lack of interest with which he had said it. At a time of a national identity crisis, the prime minister had gone missing in action. All he had really managed to convey was an indifferent “fuck you”. A sentiment that would have been echoed back to him by half the country.