image Yui Mok PA/via AP via The Guardian
This is the funniest man in England right now. Dominic Cummings. The guy is hilarious. He views himself as a “disrupter”. He thinks governments are a joke and despises the media. He’s prime minister Boris Johnson’s top advisor and controls with an iron rule what goes on at 10 Downing Street.
Until very recently most Englanders, meaning anybody not living in London, had only heard of the guy. They didn’t really know anything about him. Didn’t know what he looked like or that he had a funny, northern England accent.
They certainly didn’t know that the guy who’s at least as in charge of the country as the prime minister, and some pundits suggest the prime minister, like a puppet, does everything he says, is a gormless baldy with the morals and scruples and integrity of an elderly, moth-eaten sock.
This funny man blatantly ignored the lockdown and self-isolation rules that he helped write that were imposed on the entire country. Why? Because he’s special. And the rules for the specials aren’t the same as for the general public. It’s hysterical. For some reason he doesn’t like all the attention he’s getting at the moment and many politicians in his putative boss’s governing party very much desire that he fuck off.
Sorry about that. That word is an old English colloquialism. I’m using it to lend an air of authenticity to keep this piece from being too fluffy. I mean, there’s fluffy and there’s fluffy and then there’s fluffier and fluffier and then there’s fluffiest and we’re not going by there today.
No. This joker takes umbrage at any suggestion of impropriety. I believe he’s offended. He resorted to a weaselly press conference statement in 10 Downing Street’s “rose garden”. I’ll be gooned. I didn’t know 10 Downing Street had a rose garden. It’s invisible from the street. I should know. I go by there all the time. I guess it must be somewhere out back.
It’s just common sense. Power. The guy who commented on its corrupting properties was English. It’s Englisher day around here today. Having nothing more splendid to do in the long hours fighting off the pathogens I took to the overseas press and here was this incredible comedian, top advisor to “Bojo” as the exalted prime minister with the crazy hair is affectionately called.
England, like some other countries I could name, has a terrible affliction right now that it can’t seem to shake. Weak at the top. Very weak. And it’s something just as dangerous as the pathogen but there will never be a vaccine for it.
This joker’s got a soul bro in the U.S. White house named Stephen Miller. But I’m not going to take him apart right now.
3 p.m. Shopping spree. Helps. Irritation of lining up outside a supermarket and the line isn’t moving. Look, I just want to buy some groceries, all right? Is that all right with you? Pathogen? You there?
Later. Two SUVs eastbound on Sixteenth Avenue making lefts onto Arbutus Street. The first goes ahead and then the second one has to wait for oncoming traffic eastbound on Sixteenth. It’s a lady driver and something the driver of the first SUV didn’t do she finds exasperating.
I can see her behind her driver’s side window throwing up her hands. We’re first to go northbound on Arbutus as soon as the light changes so from her vantage in the middle of the intersection waiting to turn left she has a clear view of me just as I do of her.
After the hands come down she looks at me and shakes her head. Looks right at me. Me. I’m a complete stranger in a random situation of less than four and a half seconds but am to be enjoined in her frustration and welcomed to it like a long lost friend. I understand and commiserate deeply. No I don’t. I have no idea what all this exasperation’s about. I didn’t witness the first SUV’s crime, if any.
That’s when I remarked that I thought a lot of people’s fuses are a little shorter these days. There’s a bit of impatience in the air and a grim determination to grind on but if there’s any little thing, even the teensiest, weensiest little thing I don’t like I’m going to go BALLISTIC on your sorry butt, especially because I have no idea who you are and I could care less.
It’s good to stifle these impulses. We’re ladies and gentlemen. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. And most people are. It’s probably a good thing. There’s been enough upset already.
Thanks for stopping by. We’ll be right back.