It’s been a busy old week and forgive me, Twitter, for I
have sinned. It has been three days since my last blog. For my penance I made a
concerted effort to try and discover what has been going on in the world while I
have been busy earning a crust and my, have you been busy; I hardly know where
to start. Maybe I should begin with a roundup of what I’ve learned so far...
The Million Mask March of a few hundred infantile
malcontents has been chucking fireworks and traffic cones around like the big,
stupid, spoiled brats they are. More aeroplanes have been falling out of the
sky over sandy countries. Various western countries have been raising alarums
over border controls and the plagues of cockroach-like humanity that floods
through their colander-like, fading, dotted lines on the Euro map. Junior doctors
are considering going on strike, they are probably selling Channel 4, Piers
Morgan is still an egregious tosspot and David Cameron is... well, I couldn’t really be
arsed to find out.
But it did remind me of his personal crusade to make obsequious genuflexion at the feet of the goddess Merkel appear to the outside
as if he is making a genuine attempt to negotiate a new deal for Britain, even
as he crosses the fingers of both hands. It is so plain that, whatever he says,
his endless pontificating on the likelihood of getting a favourable settlement
is mere chaff in the wind. It looks impressive for a moment, but disperses into
so much nothing in moments. But oh, the war of words!
Is he being paid, like the lawyers of old, by the word? At
a recent cabinet meeting, in which he decided to tackle the Eurosceptics in his
ranks he recently made a speech of such overstuffed pomposity, extolling the
virtues of life within the EU embrace which ran for over two hours. From the
start of the session all the way up to elevenses he riffed without notes – Ed Miliband
would have been proud – about how Britain was bigger in Europe, could punch above
its weight, could work with friends and close allies to build a better world
and yes, he said, could better assist the humanitarian crisis which it was
Britain’s duty to ameliorate.
Nearing the end, however, he was rattled when Iain Duncan
Smith stood up, turned on his heel and walked out of the briefing room to the
utter amazement of most of the assembled throng. Cameron spluttered a little
but picked up where he’d left off and continued berating his bastard colleagues
for daring to entertain the possibility of Brexit.
Keeping the cabinet on-message...
Afterwards, DC went in search of IDS for an explanation.
Finding he had left the building he instead confronted his PA at the Department
of Work & Pensions. “I have to say,” he said “ I found it a little
disconcerting, to say the least, when it happened.” The aide cleared her throat
and replied, “Oh, don’t take it personally, Prime Minister, it wasn’t a
reflection on you... Iain has been walking in his sleep since he was a boy.”
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