Blog Number 26 All mighty flows the DOM [Tuesday 26th May]
I watched the Dom’s Address to the Nation. Extraordinary. First that it took place at all. Second that it was in the Rose Garden of No. 10. Not always the best spot to pick. Do you remember the Dave and Nick show there in 2010? The joshing. The fun. Little did they know how soon it all would turn into ashes for both of them. Third is the fact that he kept everyone waiting for 30 minutes. What! And this is someone whose expertise is supposedly in public relations. What message does that send? Then came the convoluted story, the twists and turns in the life of Dom, devoted father and family man. The decision to drive 260 miles north was to protect his 4 year old child. And what better way than to do so than keep him in an enclosed space for 6 hours with his ill mum? And as he was not ill with COVID himself, not then at least, he could drive. Well, he certainly would be ill after doing that. And he was. Hold on, that’s not all. It seems after discovering his wife was ill, he returned to work. Now what were the guidelines? If you a member of your family comes down with COVID-19, he or she isolates in the house and you stay at home. So, returning to No 10, that was nothing to do with protecting his child. It was all about the importance of the Dom. Without him the whole machine would grind to a halt. When he was back at No 10, he told the PM and others what he was going to do, did he? No. He told no one. After all, the Dom is accountable to nobody, only to God and not always then. But hold on again, Dominic, why not stay and look after the lovely wife and sainted child yourself? I might have got the virus. Yes. But you might not have. And even if you had, could you and wife not have coped as so many had to. But if we got too ill…Sorry, there was no one in London who could help if that had happened. Really? You are the PM’s Special Advisor. You are running the country. Was it too embarrassing to ask for help? Or was it that you are the Special One, and so don’t need to ask. So off you all go all four of you, you, wife, child and virus, to Durham where you can isolate on your parents’ estate. You even had a house to yourself and a bluebell wood to walk in on the private grounds. Now, Dom, I don’t think that plays well with the public, millions of whom don’t even have a garden of their own, never mind a bluebell wood. Shades of the duck house and the moat of days gone by. And this is just the beginning. Worse was to come.
Dom turned on the media. You hacks had got the wrong end of the stick and made false allegations. He had to tell the true story once he had worked out what it would be. But hadn’t he been asked about the trip weeks ago? Could he not have corrected the false allegations then? And when his wife wrote up her diary of her illness in the Spectator, would it not have helped to have said that they were in Durham and not in London? In fact, did she not write that she came out of her illness into a changed London in lockdown? Slip of the pen perhaps. Perhaps not. And then the trip to Barnard Castle on his wife’s birthday. That 30 mile journey was simply to test whether his eyesight was good enough to drive. Of course it was. I mean you needed to drive 30 miles with wife and child in the car to a well-known tourist spot to do that. Not possible to do it by driving the car on your own nearer home? Or just around the estate, by the bluebell wood perhaps?
And so it went on. No regrets. No apologies. No contrition. No idea how implausible and obscene his self-justificatory story sounded. What did he care? He had deigned to talk to the little people and if they didn’t buy his carefully concocted story, that’s their problem. He had a country to run.