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The Westferry affair would have ended in Robert Jenrick’s resignation —  but it almost certainly will not. And, if we’re honest with ourselves, there are many reasons why a government such

as this would feel there was no reason to type up a letter thanking the prime minister for the opportunity to serve, while easing Mr Jenrick towards an open window. Practically, it makes

little sense, whatever the moral certainty over what should be done.  The current government cannot really afford too many ministers to fall on their swords. This week, Boris Johnson was

reminded that even a majority as large of 80 is no guarantor of success in the Commons. Of the 46 Tories who crossed the floor to vote against the government, a fair few were slighted former

ministers — even a much maligned former prime minister. The body count is already totting up, and in sufficient numbers that a fair few dead and buried political lives are being reanimated.

Adding to that pile is not what Number Ten wants. What Number Ten does want, though, is to stop suggestions that it is losing control. There have been plenty of those as a result of the

response to the coronavirus, how it handled civil disobedience on the streets of the capital, and its approach to the next phase of Britain’s relationship with the EU. But what has really

stung has been members of the administration going rogue. The Barnard Castle weekender was a glaring example of a prime minister not on top of a situation; Mr Jenrick’s dalliances with

Richard Desmond another. To sack Jenrick now, or accept a resignation, would be to both acknowledge this is the case, and to create a less manageable backbencher.  By drawing a line under

the issue, Mr Johnson is trying to reassert the authority of Number Ten: it will decide when its people come and go, not the press or the opposition. If that means turning a blind eye to

wrongdoing where wiggle room can be found, then that is what it shall do. This sends out a clear message to other Tories that, provided they don’t do something truly catastrophic (which is

perhaps more likely than they’d readily admit) redemption can always be attained for the loyal, and without the loss, necessarily, of ministerial privileges.  With increasing attacks on

conservatives in cultural spheres, holding the line in the political arena will be seen as central to the government’s authority. Plenty of people turned to the Tories because they felt

abandoned by political parties that had turned towards Europe, but also towards wokery, and a harsh, alien political language few understand. They see “cancel” culture all around them, and

fear its repercussions. The government cannot step in to stop people who have been doxxed from losing their jobs, or to stop local authorities and universities from taking a knee in the face

of a small, militant group determined to wipe out the nation as we know it, egged on by a press that serves only itself. But they can promise not to throw their own men to the mob when it

arrives at their door — and will hope that, in conserving at least the careers of their colleagues, some semblance of loyalty will be forged. Creating that loyalty will be essential if

Johnson and his team are to survive. Rumbling has already been heard from the bowels of the party that all is not well with how many view his leadership. And while, for now, the stars of

people such as Rishi Sunak continue to burn bright, and the siren calls of big beasts like Sajid Javid catch the ear of the Thatcherites, there remain plenty of attractive alternatives to

Johnson. He may have won them an election and “delivered” Brexit, but both are now ancient history with a recession of unparalleled scale engulfing us.  Jenrick ought to go. He knows it, the

PM knows it, and so does everyone else. But is there any drive for him to, within his own party? Not enough to tip him over the edge, and with plenty of reasons for the government to double

down. To let him go now would be to show weakness — a mad thing to do, given the efforts to shield Jenrick and others before him. It would be a sign to MPs that they were expendable; that

the PM was prepared to sacrifice ministers to quench the thirst of an enemy that can never be sated — and perhaps worst of all, that the lengths he was prepared to go to in order to save his

chief advisor are greater than the lengths he will go to in order to save elected colleagues. That would be a recipe for a rebellion.