Corruption, chaos and calamitous party misjudgment finally led to Owen Paterson’s resignation over breaking lobbying rules. Boris Johnson’s blatant attempt to put himself in control of parliamentary standards, abolishing an independent system that was investigating Paterson, caused well over 100 of his own MPs to rebel. There is sympathy for Paterson. He is a man still mourning the loss of his wife, a fact he referenced in his resignation letter. But the trajectory of today’s events appears to have had little to do with that sympathy or to suggest particular regard for Paterson personally: it’s reported that he was never even warned of the U-turn that ditched him. Who forced this humiliating reverse? What fright sent the wretched Jacob Rees-Mogg out to eat an unfamiliar dollop of humble pie? Following a wave of anger from within his own party and renewed cries of “Tory sleaze”, the prime minister abandoned plans to overhaul the parliamentary standards system – one that had just found the former Northern Ireland secretary in breach of parliamentary rules by lobbying for companies that were paying him over £100,000 a year. The filthy miasma steaming off the Thames at Westminster had even choked up some of the government’s loudest cheerleaders. The Daily Mail blasted across its front page, “Shameless MPs sink back into sleaze”. Its leader was lethal: “So now we know the lengths to which a venal political class will go to protect its own.” The Times leader was fierce: “It would be good for parliamentary democracy if this time [the prime minister] were made to pay a price.” The Sun said: “The Tories have made a big mistake changing parliament’s rules to save Owen Paterson’s job”, when it was “obvious the veteran MP’s antics were out of order”. When only the Pravda Telegraph stood by its party with a glowingly friendly interview with Paterson, the government had run out of shamelessness. Was it the defection of their friendly press that tipped the scales against him? Ben Page, chief executive of Ipsos Mori, says: “Knowing No 10, they will have focus-grouped it.” Those groups may have suggested in advance that it would have no cut-through, but then came the jolting headlines. “It sticks two fingers up at the electorate,” warned the Mail. But will that show up in the polls? That’s the impossible question: how much does Johnson’s electorate care about these democratic disgraces? Pollsters, political academics and Westminster observers have given up predicting when some “tipping point” might come; when the scales fall from voters’ eyes and they suddenly realise they have elected a gang of crooks, liars and cheats. “It’s priced in with Boris,” says Rob Ford, professor of politics at Manchester University, “as it was for [former Italian prime minister] Silvio Berlusconi. It was very different with John Major who stood as Back-to-Basics Honest John.” Brazen it out, that seemed to be the Tory way. Business secretary Kwasi Kwarteng opened his flailing pitch on the Today programme with the jaw-dropping claim that his government was only “trying to restore integrity and probity in public life”. Chris Bryant, Labour MP and chair of the committee on standards, did not appear to be exaggerating one iota when he said this smacks of Putin’s Russia. Labour’s refusal to take part in Johnson’s new rigged system killed it at birth. Until now nothing the non-stick prime minister has done has alienated his supporters. Professor Bobby Duffy, director of the King’s College Policy Institute, puts it like this: “Voters are like an 800lb gorilla sitting quietly in the corner getting on with their lives and eating their leaves … until suddenly that gorilla sits up and notices you, and then you’re in real trouble.” Yet Duffy doesn’t know when that “noticing” happens. “It builds over time. I’m astounded the Tories haven’t been noticed yet.” Think how many political shocks have been absorbed already: proroguing parliament was a constitutional outrage; so was absolving Dominic Cummings of breaking Covid rules; and so was ignoring how Priti Patel’s bullying broke the ministerial code, causing Alex Allan to resign as Johnson’s adviser on standards. The panel selecting the next head of the broadcasting regulator, Ofcom, was dismissed so that the prime minister could try to shoehorn “not appointable” ex-Mail editor Paul Dacre into the job. Details of lush Covid contracts for pals of Tory ministers are still to unravel. So most of Johnson’s MPs, many who are themselves taking fat lobbying fees, all thought there was nothing to stop him abolishing the investigations system. The independent parliamentary commissioner for standards, Kathryn Stone, was dead right to stand her ground after previous resignations had had zero impact. On and on it goes, unless or until voters decide enough is enough. Might that be when, as Ford puts it, voters who priced in Johnson’s bad faith decide: “It’s one thing to suspect your wife is having an affair, but quite another to find her in bed with your best friend.” That recognition of betrayal, according to pollsters, is unlikely to come as a result of any one of these outrages to democracy. Expectations of MPs are already very low: as Page’s veracity index shows, only 15% of voters trusted them last year. So those offences only join the steady drip of charges. And what about those pledges of a high-wage, high-skilled, levelled-up future where Brexit delivers a £350m-a-week bounty to the NHS? That nirvana is not where the country is heading, so will there be a backlash when those promises are not met? In the real world, prospects are worsening by the week. The latest bad news comes in the Resolution Foundation’s report that, in this parliament, voters can expect the weakest annual growth in disposable household income since records began, just 0.1% or possibly zero. Now add in NHS waiting lists, which will remain high. When people find their earnings falling badly short, the lipstick may rub off the pig they elected, as they start to notice that the filth he wallows in really does stink. Polly Toynbee is a Guardian columnist