It’s incredible to me that a man who just this past week admitted that the last time he faced the gaze of the media’s cameras in the garden of No10 Downing Street he “didn’t tell the whole story” (politics-speak for fibbed) about his reasons for breaking lockdown regulations with his now legendary trip to Durham now expects us all to believe chapter and verse of his testimony to a joint select committee of MPs.
What makes it even crazier is that there will be people who didn’t believe him then, but are now only too willing to accept his “evidence” as gospel because it fits with with the opinions they already have.
From the moment he left No10 by the front door with his cardboard box, Cummings has waited for this opportunity, his aim being to convince everyone that Boris Johnson is unfit for high office, even though he was the main player in putting him there. Strange he doesn’t appear to have thought that at the time.
Dominic Cummings took centre stage last week for one reason only – the quest for revenge, but rather than just lap it up as confirmation that you were right all along, look at the flaws in his agenda, such as allowing his disdain for the new Mrs Johnson, Carrie Symonds, to get the better of him in his insistence on referring to her as “the prime minister’s girlfriend” – a telling chink in the armour there.
What he seems unable to accept is that being chief advisor to the PM didn’t mean that advice would always be taken and it stings his ego.
I have no idea how much of what Cummings told the committee over seven hours is the true picture of what actually went on – I don’t even know how much of it he genuinely believes to be true, although some of it is entirely plausible – but choosing to believe it on the premise that the enemy of my enemy must be my friend is just myopic.
Because this particular friend is British politics’ version of Professor Moriarty.
Remember humour? Well make the most of it because at this rate it’s going to become extinct. What used to be called political correctness is fast becoming a cancel culture akin to 17th century puritanism.
Pranks or jokes told 10, 20, 30, 40, even 50 years ago are being judged by today’s standards in which everything is polarised and there are no longer shades of grey.
Nuance and irony are slowly being culled to the point where pretty soon there will be nothing left to laugh at for fear of being labelled unclean and cast out of decent society.
And the biggest culprits of this witch hunt are the media, who for fear of appearing to be complicit in the wake of the Jimmy Savile scandal, attempt to rewrite history by withdrawing the availability of anything the self appointed right and proper brigade deem to be suitable viewing.
Matt Lucas and David Walliams have admitted they are now uncomfortable with some of the things they did in Little Britain, which I think is a great shame, and Leigh Francis even apologised for his now 19 year-old Bo Selecta sketches in which he lampooned Trisha Goddard.
It was comedy. There was no malice.
I wonder how long it will be before episodes of The League Of Gentlemen are pulled from streaming services?
It’s just a fact that as time changes some comedy doesn’t date particularly well. The same things may not be said today, but that doesn’t justify wiping it from history.
An heaven forbid one of us should use the wrong pronoun in this new gender guessing game.
Stupid TV quiz answers of the week:
All from Tipping Point, the show that just keeps on giving.
Q: In which eastern European country was astronomer Nicolaus Copernicus born?
Q: Lord Palmerston served as Prime Minister under which 19th century queen?
A: Elizabeth I
Q; How many years are there in two centuries?