No.78 - Imagine This!

Dear James,

Imagine this. Dominic Cummings is sitting on a corner of a desk in No.10. There is a clock to one side and on the wall behind him a chart. The headline says, “We shall leave the EU on October 31st – Do or Die”.  Nearby, Boris is slumped in a chair, sinking another whisky.  He has just had a few gruelling days in New York and then had to return to face a parliament that has been forced upon him despite his cunning plans. “This wasn’t in the plan Dom. I don’t know how much more I can take!” Dom, nonchalantly swinging his feet on his perch, is blank faced. ’No plan survives first contact with the enemy – sorry, ‘with our friends and partners’. It is the end that matters Bojo. Believe in the destination! October 31st Do or Die! Remember?” 

Bojo sinks back, takes another swig. “But they’re all at me. Even members of the cabinet. They’re all panicking. Even old Cox was laid out flat after his session on Tuesday. As for Javid, he’s just gone blank on me. Even my own brother and sister are giving me gip. All I’ve got is dad and he’s gone strangely quiet in the last few days!” 

“Relax Bojo! It’s what I predicted, remember? They’ll throw everything they’ve got at us. It’s not surprising there’s anger in parliament because they’re refusing to accept the referendum. They‘ve spent three years swerving all over the shop. We’ve got to break the system. This is a walk in the park compared with the referendum. Remember?” 

“Yes, but they’re all so blood angry. They’re getting death threats. Someone might die.  When I tell them that it’s parliament’s fault they remind me that 100 ERG members voted against every ‘agreement’ so it wasn’t just the others, it was our lot too. Everyone in parliament is against it and nothing has changed.  I’m not happy with all this.”

Cummings pushes off his corner and down into his chair, his domed forehead catching the last of the grey light from the only window in his office. With a clump, his feet go up onto the desk. His face is calm, distant and totally unruffled by anything of the moment. The special clock on his desk ticks down to October 31st.  It is now 34 days 16 hours 6 minutes and 44 seconds until Brexit Day. 

“Keep your eye on the clock Bojo. You should be happy! You should be delighted. You should be enjoying this. We control the high ground. We’re here in Downing Street. The troops are loyal. Did you hear the banging on the table at the 1922 Committee meeting yesterday? They still love you Bojo. They need jobs. They’ll keep in line! 

Boris’s mobile rings. It’s Carrie. Boris explodes. 

“Don’t you start!  Jennifer who? No idea…I’ll be home tonight. Sorry, sorry… yes… of course.”

He clicks off the phone. 

“I’ve had enough of you all. You’re all mad. I can’t take much more…” 

Turning his pen slowly between his fingers, Cummings fixes Boris with darkening eyes.  

“Man up Boris! Stick to your guns. We’re nearly there. These are just bumps in the road. Go out and tell them. No apologies!  Tell them that your description of their ‘Surrender Bill’ is a totally accurate description of the Benn nonsense. Nothing to be ashamed of there Boris.“

Boris takes a deeper swig and a small whimper escapes his lips.

“And now there’s Major making his statesman’s speech warning that our approach is profoundly un-Conservative and that I’m going to by-pass parliament and the Benn Bill in some act of political chicanery…” 

Cummings shrugs, his face unmoved.

“Major is yesterday’s man. Ignore him! Ignore the bloody party. Ignore them all. We are the future and the future is approaching fast. Look at the clock Bojo and believe!”

The clock now shows 34 days 15 hours 45 minutes and 10 seconds until Brexit Day. Boris’s eyes bulge. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you Dom.”

Nothing moves in Cummings face. Looking out into the darkness of Horse Guard’s Parade, his mind is on the big prize.

Revenge. 

Food for thought James?   

Kind regards, 

BH - Your Concerned Constituent.