Boris Johnson vs Dominic Cummings: Who will save us from this Hunger Games-style nightmare? – Susan Morrison
The English upper classes have always perplexed me. They believe they have the divine right to rule, but they seem remarkably easy to boss about.
Look at Thatcher's cabinet. Awash with public school boys terrified of the Iron Lady.
Is it a nanny/public school thing? Many spend their early years with nanny, a sort of stunt-double mother. She’s paid to be there.
At some point, they must wonder, never mind love me, does she even like me? Of course she’s going to say yes. She’s building a nice little nest egg for retirement.
So, naturally, if you like nanny, you’ll do what she says lest she ups and leaves and finds a nicer little boy to work with. Real mummies rarely do that. And believe me, sometimes we think about it…
Public school seems like a sort of Mad Max Thunderdome to me where, until recently, bullying was accepted as ‘character building’. The problem was the character it built was inwardly fearful and easy to manipulate. Unless you were the bully, in which case you’re a shoo-in for a career in banking or high-end chef-ing.
This current Eton boy in Number 10 seems very malleable, according to Dominic Cummings The latter is a weird-looking sort of a bloke. His head looks like a balloon with a really right knot at the bottom. Perhaps his lanyards were too tight.
According to him, Downing Street was a cross between Lord of the Flies and The Hunger Games. There was endless plotting and counter-plotting, but no actual governing.
At one extraordinary moment, Cummings' crew considered ditching the democratically elected Prime Minister. In other countries, we’d call that a coup.
All through this barrels Boris, like a runaway Mr Blobby in a suit, pathetically agreeing with whoever the last person he spoke to.
Poor Mr Cummings. His influence ended at the bedroom door. No matter what he said last to Boris, Carrie was always there, last thing at night and first thing in the morning.
And all the time, an entire country sat outside, waiting for someone to take control.
We deserve better than this.