Johnson, Cummings and the emperor's new clothes

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Small men. That is all they are.
They may have huge jobs,  and make policy that effects millions, but, deep down, they are pitiful little people. 

Strip away the status, the stage and the image, and you are left staring at at duo who parade in the emperor's clothes.

Boris Johnson and Dominic Cummings deserve each other. Trouble is, we don't.

Johnson is the man who craved the role of Prime Minister, but can't be bothered actually doing the job - you know, the bit that means reading a few red boxes, going to Parliament, being held to account and speaking for, and to, the nation.

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His feeble performances throughout lockdown can only partly be excused by the fact he did fall ill.

His real malaise is utter laziness wrapped around a stomach-heaving mix of entitlement and arrogance. He has the power. That's all he wants.

Johnson's carefully cultivated buffoon image allows him to bluster his way through speeches pock-marked with ums, errs, and occasional big words to bring out a groan or whoop of admiration - a bit like when the master of ceremonies in BBC's Good Old Days variety show of yore delivered one of his elongated introductions. He will do anything to deflect close scrutiny.

Cummings is The Master - a dark force behind the scenes, a media manipulator, a man who beckons forth all the 'weirdos and misfits' to cultivate his outsider image.

But the moment he stepped in front of the media, he had all the presence of a church elder judging the 'best in show' at the annual village fete. The mystique fell and we saw a very ordinary bloke completely out of his depth,

I fully expected a masterclass from him - on message, succinct, zero wiggle room. Instead he poured layer upon layer of detail all over muddied picture.

He didn't control the story - his own bloomin' story - and slowly it unravelled like a jumper caught on barbed wire.

And his story was incredulous. The only genuine response was outright laughter, and yet, Cabinet Minister after Cabinet  Minister stepped up to take one for the team. In doing so, they shredded their own dignity and self-respect the way a snake loses its skin.

They really, truly don't get it - the deep-rooted anger and very real sense of being taken for mugs.

The one who did break ranks and resign got a "he's Mr Nobody" off the record response from 10 Downing Street. They don't even care about their own.  

Johnson and Cummings created the rules of lockdown around three clearly defined messages. Stay home, Protect the NHS. Save lives.

No ambiguity. No wiggle room. Hunker down and wait until this devastating virus is done. 
And we did. 

Every single household in the UK will have not seen elderly parents or newly born grandchildren for months.

Many will not have visited a care home to sit at the bedside of a loved one, or  held someone's hand as they took their very last breaths. Moments in time that can never be rewound.

Many have not been able to attend funerals - and, if they were among the six permitted mourners, they couldn't even reach out and offer a hug. 

And many endured incredible challenges when it came to childcare - the same stressful moments which hit the Cummings' household.

Cummings and his court jester, Johnson, have betrayed each and every one of them. Their actions, their conduct, their double-speak, their deliberate plan to pitch the people against parliament will be remembered as one of the most shameful days in our modern political history.

Small men. Big egos. A dangerous combination.






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