In Which Dominic Goes to Durham…

One of the symptoms of caste identity in United Kingdom society is innate suspicion of people with names like Dominic.

By their arrogance shall we know them, we of the Trevor, Fred and Bill world; and, to be honest, after so long an exposure to our quaint Royalist culture, we expect nothing less.  Little over a century past a time when we were expected to stand aside and tug our forelocks, when we were not even owed an explanation for the actions of our masters, it should be no surprise that their accounts of, not to say excuses for, their imperious behaviour should be faltering, at best.

Hence, I have tried to stand back from what will inevitably become known as Durhamgate.  Explanation for those not ‘in the know’:   In March Dominic Cummings, ‘advisor’ on Government policy here in UK, drove from his London base a distance of …..miles, flouting, some will maintain, the quarantine rules.  He was exhibiting symptoms of COVID-19 at the time, and his objective was to remove his four-year-old son to his family home in Durham, where other relatives were available to care for the child should he and his wife both fall ill.

In the subsequent media frenzy various other accusations have stemmed from ‘reliable sources’ of ‘drives to Barnard Castle’ (a town about thirty miles from Durham) and ‘stops to refuel’ etc. but again I refuse to become exercised by these, as the gutter press (in which I include the BBC) are known nowadays for inventing whole tranches of ‘news’ when the occasion suits them.   By and large, the press objective is to obtain a Resignation to complete their current witch hunt before they move on to the next one.

Personally, I have no extreme feelings one way or the other.   Why?  Mr Cummings is not a politician, but he has fallen in with the bad crowd.   Whether he likes it or not, his has become the broad back the EU remainers have picked for their blame game, and any trick or device to discredit him is therefore fair.   Secondly, there are two views that attach to Boris Johnson, one that accepts him as a decisive leader, another that dismisses him as a bungling fool with a Churchill complex – if the latter be true, any steadying hand within the machine of government must be welcome and necessary – disruption must only serve a political agenda. Not the health and safety of the country.

The police view is that our Dominic did nothing wrong.  I won’t comment further on that because we have all, at one time or another, been subject to the vagaries of our wonderful boys in blue.    Dominic, however, is a good Catholic name which at once implies honesty and explains the depth of his love for a small boy (I refer to his son, of course).   

It is also worth bearing in mind the goldfish bowl that London life offers any public figure.  I was struck by the monumental hypocrisy of the press behaviour as they scrupulously observed ‘distancing’ rules when Dominic gave a press conference on the Downing Street lawn – distancing rules that are conspicuously absent whenever he should be unwise enough to emerge from his London home to undergo the daily gauntlet of aggressive cameramen and garrulous ‘interviewers’ who block his path and invariably stray within inches of his face.

‘Not our responsibility’ the press insist.  Very convenient, considering how many of those pictures appear in their newspapers.

I can wholly understand that not all the weight of personal decision for making that trip to Durham was borne by Dominic himself,   Without making any detailed judgement of character his wife, Mary, does not look like a woman to be trifled with:  I can see how she would want her infant son protected from the media coyotes, and would be heavily in favour of finding solace and space.

So, these being the reasons for my ambivalence; should Dominic Cummings stay in post, or should he go?   On the one hand, something needs to end this media culture that states if you put your hand on someone’s knee in 1999, or said something contradictory ten years earlier, you are to be humiliated, ruined, and driven from public life.  On the other, did he really break the rules seriously enough, or raise questions in the mind of the idiot public that are sufficient to confuse ‘the message’ of distancing and self-isolation (whatever those rules really are).

On balance, I think he should stay.  I may not doff my cap the next time he drives past on his way home, but neither do I think he should apologise, because that implies fault and his position is that he did nothing wrong.   I do think his role in shaping government policy should be examined closely, and that is a process that may well now happen under cover of Downing Street in the middle of the night – something at which British politicians excel.

We are all too po-faced when it comes to pillorying the behaviour of others:  let him who is honestly without sin cast the first stone…

Eurpoe

mermaid wall (2016_04_04 15_16_25 UTC)
The Sirens of Brussels

 

A word from Divvin (that’s an English County next to Zummerzet and just down the road from Darsit, if you’m wonderin’).

Now, my Darlin’s, ‘tis like this.

Other wick we had a vote, see?  ‘Twas like ever’body got to ‘ave a say about how us felt ‘bout the immigrants an’ that, an’ we all turned out and we told ‘em, no uncertain fashion, like, what us thought we ought to do.  Leave that there Eurpoe Onion thing from the Brussels!   Yes!   An’ it turns out we didn’t want nothin’ more to do wi’ no Onions, and ‘ow we wanted to go out by ourselves.  Aye!

Well, turns out we were wrong, see?   ‘Cause all these ‘ere thinkin’ people says we should stay in, an’ ‘ow we faces certain ruin if we don’t.   An’ we says to ‘em, see, it was a Democratic Decishun, but they say that don’t count, ‘cause apparently they won’t get so much money if us makes ‘em leave, and they won’t be able to live in they there nice London apartments no more, or travel around this ‘ere Eurpoe to get better jobs, and stuff like that.   They says we bin lied ter, an’ un-screw-pew-lus people, they led us up the garden path, an’ that.  We jus’ voted ‘cause of the immigration, see?  Aye.

So they goin’ to change wha’ we want to what they want, and that’s o’y fair, ‘cause we’m jus’ ord’nary people, and not great and good like they are.

So, seems to me that all these ‘ere clever people, they on’y peddle that there Democracy to us when they want us to see things their way; and if we don’t, then they got to twist it about until we do.  Lawyers, and Ac’demics, and that, they knows what’s good for us, don’ they?  An’ learned people, they thinks we’re too thick to unnerstand ‘bout Eurpoe.

See, I voted ‘cause I didn’t think that there Onion was goin’ anywhere.  I thought that my country is what serves me a livin’ an’ not none of the Brussels.   They’m got strange money that they keeps printin’ with no vaalue behind un, they keeps poorer countries strugglin’ for a livin’ an’ it’s not long afore we becomes one of those, if we stays in, like.   They keeps takin’ our money and givin’ us less back than what they takes, they makes rules we can’t keep up with, and my sheep dip’s more ‘ficient at keepin’ out the nasties than their immigration pol’cy.  They destroyed our fishin’ ind’stry, they put the cost of livin’ up for all of us an’ they make us tax things we shouldn’t, don’t they?  And we can’t take so many people!    Now, that’s not racist, nor nothin’, but us got a dooty to house and keep the people we already got.  It makes sense, see?  If my neighbour, he don’t put no fence up,  his sheep gets all mixed up wi’ mine an’ they overstocks my land while I feeds ‘em for ‘im for free.  Seems simple sense to me.

But there.  I don’t know nothin’.  I may know the price of livestock an’ ow to run a business, but to you they ac’demics I’m jus’ the peasant who’s ‘pinions you thinks you can ignore – I’ll jus’ tug my forelock as I passes you by and you can try to forget it’s me who does all the work, who keeps your nicely feathered beds stuffed an’ makes your country run.

So, talk your way into believing you are doing the right thing in trying to overturn the will of the people with your contrived arguments and Machiavellian tactics.   Buy your politicians and your expensive lawyers; pay the media to find a case for you to make.  But if you do, and you succeed in contraverting the will of the people you will finally write the obituary of  British democracy, and prove the lie you have been trying to disguise for so many years.

And I, at least, will stand against you, tooth and claw.  And I will never, whatever ‘democratic’ compulsion you thrust upon me, mark a ballot paper again.