Coronavirus: the Gospel according to Dom Cummings

Johnson rolls out new guidelines: if you test positive, proceed straight to Durham and do not pass Go

First published in May 2020.

Boris wasn’t happy. It had been a terrible week for the man unconvincingly masquerading as prime minister of UK, and now he’d been summoned to be cross examined by senior MPs at the Commons liaison committee. He'd first been invited to attend last October, but had so far avoided it with the dexterity levels he usually reserved only for dodging angry ex-mistresses demanding child maintenance payments. Yes, it might very well be in his job description, but didn’t they know he was very busy avoiding other important things? He was fast running out of junior ministers to send to the coronavirus daily briefing in his place; he'd only recently had to resort to Grant Shapps, a man who half the time fails to remember his own name.

Sir Bernard Jenkin was chairing the committee, and he began by discussing the government's new health message. The PM explained that it was very clear: if you've tested positive, proceed straight to Durham and do not pass Go. Why was this so difficult for everyone to get their heads around? Johnson disagreed that the public disputed the government’s account of Cummings' movements, despite polling revealing a conformity of public opinion in the face of a bare-faced lie, not known since Prince Andrew declared that he couldn’t sweat. Even the Mail claimed it couldn't with self-respect pretend to believe it; a newspaper likely willing to means test its own mother for her annual birthday present.

As the questions became harder, Johnson's coherence levels undertook a race to the bottom with the last remaining dregs of his credibility. Reminiscent now of a straw topped furby with fast diminishing battery life, he stammered an answer about Cummings' rose garden briefing. “Well, well I thought that it would be a very good thing if people could understand what I had understood myself previously. And, there you go. We had a long go at it” said Johnson, completely incomprehensibly, following up by stressing the importance of message clarity. 

Meg Hillier was next, and wanted to know if the Prime Minister would be willing to provide evidence that Mr. Cummings didn’t return to Durham for a second time. “Well I don’t want to go into that” sulked the Rhetorician in Chief. The rest of the government were far too busy to waste their time looking at evidence. Certainly more busy than he was. Not to mention, the Word of Dom had been written down carefully from some golden plates he found under a hill, and no one else was allowed to see them. Moroni said so.

Things weren't going well. "Did the PM understand why people were frustrated?" asked one of his own MPs. Yes he understood, Johnson said, but he just didn’t care. In annoyance, he groped about on the desk for the mute button he had become accustomed to utilising to prevent any of Robert Peston's impertinent follow up questions, but he appeared to have left it at the Downing Street briefing box. Chief Womble was getting grumpy now. It was exceptionally hot in this room and the lockdown had prevented Carrie from booking him at the grooming parlour for his summer trim. He'd been moulting aggressively all over number 10 for weeks now.

Fortunately Sir Bernard wanted to change the subject, and it was the PM's new favourite topic, "the science" - a word recently promoted to permanent definite article status, since experts were hastily exhumed post-Brexit and drafted in as reluctant human shields to mask the government's gross incompetence. Unfortunately all senior scientists were currently social distancing from Johnson's self-annihilation and he was on his own for this one. Would there be sanctions for failing to self-isolate? He wasn’t sure on that one. He’d probably have to check if Dom had any more trips planned before he could say for certain. Couldn’t he just recite the Iliad instead, and everyone tell him how clever he was?

Unfortunately, the toughest questions were saved for last. Caroline Nokes was up, which was displeasing because this was the second woman in a row now. He was unaccustomed to having to explain himself to women that he wasn’t trying to have sex with; it was strange and frightening. Nokes wanted to know what specific thought he'd given to supporting the childcare sector after this crisis? He’d spent half his life avoiding conversations about childcare but now crumbled under the pressure. Frankly, the only thought he’d given to it this week was how to wrestle the concept into a wildly implausible rationale for his chief advisor’s 260 mile jaunt across the country.

But Nokes hadn’t finished. In reference to the sausage fest of incompetence leading the daily briefings, she asked why more women weren't representing the government during the crisis. Johnson looked visibly uncomfortable. “Erm… well…. erm” spluttered the Prime Minister. This was a tricky one. “Oh boy…” he looked around wildly for help, “what can I say?” He had no idea. This is why women shouldn’t be allowed to ask questions. “The Conservatives have had two female prime ministers!” he finally managed, surfacing from his hunt for female representation in his own cabinet, with the 7-year-deceased corpse of a woman so thoroughly reviled by the time she left office that she was polling worse than he was. And Margaret Thatcher.

Finally it was over. “I’ve enjoyed this session” lied Johnson, with devastating insincerity. Sir Bernard made a last minute plea for Johnson to return again to the committee before the summer, given that it was his job to do so. “I KNEW YOU’D ASK ME THAT” the prime minister of the United Kingdom declared petulantly, having absolutely no intention of returning any time at all during his remaining premiership. Besides, he was far too busy avoiding all other aspects of his job

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