Loth though I am to repeat myself (arch look to camera) I'm afraid that I'm going to be partly re-treading old ground this week. I hadn't intended to, but then all the fun and games of yesterday occurred and I thought oh bugger me, they're at it again. Yes, sorry, but I'm irritated with the press again, well the media in general, but mostly the commentariat concerned with the news. You may recall that last time I got round to posting a blog, it was to express disquiet at the collective forgetting of what the early days of Covid were like, and how the Government's chaotic response is somehow a surprise to people who presumably were being paid to notice at the time. This week, in the latest instalment of "Britain, WTF?" Pretend Prime Minister Rishi Sunak has Done A Politics, and been, the commentators all agree, Very Clever by engineering the return to frontline politics of one David Cameron, the semi-retired halfwit whose fault *all this* largely is.
If you don't have any skin in the game, the Covid enquiries have been riotously entertaining. Well, riotous may be over-egging an already fairly rich pudding, but there has been a degree of grim amusement. Watching all these minor characters from a fairly so-so season of " Britain, fucking hell" indulge in an orgy of incrimination, blame, self-justification and good old-fashioned chucking everybody else under the bus has come with a pleasurable frisson of schadenfreude,and how I enjoy applying those European words to the Big Brane of Brexit, the never knowingly undersworn Dominic Cummings, whose petulant, teenage-levels of resentment have been particularly amusing. The fucking around has occurred, now we get to enjoy the finding out. I fully appreciate, however, that if you're one of the millions who lost a loved one, who missed a funeral, who stayed home and followed the rules, it might be less funny. If you're one of those who suffered as domestic abuse ran riot