Mel always comments when, in a cabinet ‘reshuffle’, the minister for ‘diversity’ becomes the minister for education. But he/she knows NOTHING about that!!!, my wife cries. Then a week later he/she is the chancellor. Or minister for obesity and motor cars. And its true, they know precisely fuck all about their new specialist subject. And yet are mandated to make incredibly important decisions affecting the entire nation. Of course, that presumes that in their old role they actually ‘mastered’ that subject completely, which they didn’t. They don’t have to. The permanent civil servants know all and the minister is there to take their advice and act upon it. Even though they’re really completely unqualified to do so.

And thus we ended up, in the most pandemic of pandemics, saddled with Matt Hancock as Minister for Health. ‘He’s not a doctor!!!!’, shouted Mel at the tv. And he’s not. He’s a plonker. It was like having Joey as the Minister for Organisation. Or the Grand Imperial Wizard of the KKK given the Equalities portfolio. But Hancock was in the job and we just hoped he would do nothing more than listen to the actual doctors and civil servants and do their bidding.

He fucked up. Personally, professionally, ministerially. They all did. The whole government. Led by the fuck-up’s fuck-up, Boris Johnson.

Matt Hancock resigned after he mis-read the ‘2-metre’ distancing rule and was filmed in a clinch with his ‘assistant’, adhering to old line ‘if I was any closer I’d be inside you’. Poor Matt, who actually wrote that rule, said ‘I thought it was 2 MILLImetres!!! Sorry.’

So he published a book. About the pandemic. Which no-one read. No-one cared. No-one bought. But obviously a dim-wit like him couldn’t write it alone, he can barely read, so he teamed up with a ‘professional’ writer. And chose… Isabel Oakeshott. Someone to trust with all his secrets. And a good choice by Matt. Because Oakeshott had already proved her trustworthiness a decade earlier by publishing details in the Telegraph which eventually led to then Labour minister Chris Huhne, and his wife, Vicky Price, both ending up in jail.

And Matt ‘gave’ to Oakeshott his entire back catalogue of WhatsApp messages. Literally thousands of them. And being a disloyal, headline-seeking, journo-whore with no sense of betrayal or right-and-wrong, she published them in the Telegraph.

So let’s just take a look at the ‘average’ WhatsApper. Who is me.

If you looked at my messages on that vehicle, you would think me a misogynist, sexist, racist sociopath with homicidal tendencies, no concept of morality, decency or fairness, and possibly a Chelsea fan.

And I resent and deny ever being a Chelsea fan.

But WhatsApp is for bullshit. That’s why God invented it. It is NOT for anything serious or worthwhile, beyond ‘be there in 5’. Its for the sending of amusing stuff of a highly encrypted, sexist, racist, sociopathic nature. Ask any policeman. Yet within that context, it automatically becomes ironic in nature. Life is nuanced. Judgmental literalism misses that point entirely.

We already KNOW that Matt Hancock is a tosser and a liability. We don’t need to troll through his WhatsApp bollocks to prove it. When we should be working out how to get Isabel Oakeshott into the pillories so we can stone her to death for playing god and deciding what is ‘in the public interest’ when really its just ‘in the financial interests of the Daily Telegraph’.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx