The hipocrisy, as Val Kilmer’s Doc Holiday said in Tombstone, knows no bounds.
On Tuesday I watched an uncomfortable press conference in the garden of 10 Downing Street in which quite possibly the most disliked man in Britain at the moment gave his reasons for breaking the lockdown regulations he had been instrumental in imposing on the country.
Dominic Cummings didn’t exactly do himself any favours by making the press contingent, which he has made no secret of having disdain for, wait half an hour, although given Sky News’ Beth Rigby’s pantomime outrage I would have needed a few Southern Comforts before stepping onto that lawn.
He lost me at Barnard Castle, but up to that point if I had been in his position I would have done exactly the same – and it appears from the police that up to that point there wasn’t much to shout about.
I don’t exactly follow that line of thought, but faced with the national media camped permanently outside my house in London and the family circumstances at the time, I would have done it regardless out of desperation because my kids come first, always.
Then on Tuesday evening I watched open mouthed as Emily Maitlis began BBC2’s Newsnight with a monologue that was so one sided even the BBC admitted by the following morning that it had not reached their standards of impartiality.
Conveniently, she had apparently already asked for the following night off.
Throughout Tuesday evening and Wednesday the usual rent-a-gob suspects were wheeled in front of the cameras, including Wee Nicky Krankie’s SNP gimp Ian Blackford, who predictably demanded Cummings either resign or be sacked in his usual holier than though brogue.
Then on Thursday it transpires that he had broken lockdown himself by driving all the way to the Isle of Skye!.
Labour MP Stephen Kinnock, son of former Labour leader Neil, also broke lockdown by driving to see his parents.
I demand they both be fired or resign!
What – not happening? Hardly even mentioned? Not setting social media alight? Funny that.
Land of the free? Don’t make me laugh!
Meanwhile, while we’re getting hot under the collar about a trip to Durham, a man in Minneapolis has died after a policeman knelt on his throat.
George Floyd, a black man who worked as a security guard, can be heard in a very disturbing recording of the incident saying he can’t breathe while a white cop, his hand nonchalantly resting in his trouser pocket, continues to apply pressure to the man’s neck with his knee while onlookers appeal for him to stop.
The four officers involved have been dismissed, but riots have broken out across the city over what the black community sees as another racist killing by an institutionally racist police force.
This kind of thing keeps happening. Every black man in America knows that getting pulled over comes with the inherent risk that they could be shot by a trigger happy cop. It shows that for all their greatest nation on the planet crap they really haven’t come that far from lynchings and segregation.
As I finished writing this, it transpired that a black CNN reporter covering the unrest had himself been cuffed and arrested, prompting an embarrassed apology from the governor himself
The whole thing disgusts me.
* On Friday, Derek Chauvin was charged with third degree murder and manslaughter.
Music to my ears
The lockdown has prompted a wave of living room performances from musicians at every level, although as of yet I have resisted the temptation – mainly because I just haven’t had the time, but also because after all these years I still don’t really enjoy playing solo.
I have watched and thoroughly enjoyed many of those little webcam concerts from Rodrigo y Gabriela, Imelda May with her spoken word poetry and Chantel McGregor in her shed in Yorkshire to my old mucker, guitarist extraordinaire Max Milligan and even my eldest, whose voice I much prefer to mine, doing folk/punk minus his excellent band.
I suppose I could throw a quick acoustic cover together…