To the consternation of many of my friends, I have no personal dislike of Boris Johnson.
I first met him a long time ago, worked with him at The Daily Telegraph (when it was mostly a very good newspaper, whatever its politics) and was greeted heartily and by name on bumping into him twice when he was Mayor of London.
He's an excellent writer - his book on Winston Churchill may be flawed but is a great read - and, as you'd expect from someone born in New York, schooled in Brussels and having a little Turkish ancestry, he is an internationalist (indeed a European).
But, of course, it all went wrong; the fierce ambition Boris possesses turned him into a flag-of-convenience Brexiter. He even claimed he'd 'Got Brexit Done' until the famous oven-ready deal turned out to be an illusion if not an outright lie to add to all others told by truth-challenged Leavers.
My own politics, left of centre with more time for Keir Starmer than Jeremy Corbyn without trashing the latter, are naturally some way distant from Boris's. And I think he is a wretched prime minister who considers economy with the truth to be just part of the trade.
His handling of the imposition of quarantine on people arriving from France has been a nightmare. He said he'd be 'ruthless' but not that this translated as being perfectly content to inflict horrendous inconvenience and possible loss of jobs, along with alarming disruption to plans for the new school term, with the least possible notice - all made infinitely worse by a crass ministerial gaffe.
Grant Shapps, the transport secretary in a government packed with incompetents, told Sky News the 4am Saturday deadline meant the quarantine would affect people arriving from Sunday. He tried to paper over the cracks and correct his idiotic statement but the damage was done. Among the army of Brits in France - I saw figures of up to 500,000 but imagine these include the many expats with no need or indeed wish to return - a fair number appear to have taken him at his word and either booked for some later time on Saturday or kept to such bookings already made.
The impact on people's lives is incalculable. People who had clung to the dream of a decent holiday, perhaps already paid for, even when their future employment was to say the least unsure, and whose children had to be prepared for school, understandably panicked. There was easy-to-predict chaos at air, sea and rail crossing points. Many paid exorbitant prices to get home; many more will have failed to make it in time. My daughter and granddaughter (see photo above) dodged this absurd measure by paying to bring forward their flight from Nice.
The sick man of Europe - with a record on Covid-19 worse than any EU country - was lecturing its nearest neighbour on rising numbers of cases there and inflicting draconian restrictions at the drop of a hat. Mass testing at ports of entry, with follow-up tests over the ensuing two weeks if necessary, would have been a fairer and more efficient response to concerns about the infection rate in France; instead, people not using their own transport are required to take buses, trains or taxis - spreading any germs as they go - before then, and only then, having to self-isolate. And many would be French, returning to the unwelcoming country they have made their home and enriched.
If ever a government measure immediately affecting tens, scores, maybe hundreds of thousands of people has ever been implemented with greater stupidity and lack of decency, I'd like to hear of it. But then, I have a good idea of how it came about. Please read on; it won't take long ...
Taking in the delights of the River Tees in Barnard Castle, having transported his Covid-infected carload 260 miles from London - and no it was not to ensure Durham could share the experience - Boris Johnson's special adviser Dominic Cummings pondered likely future developments in the pandemic.
This was no lockdown-breaking jaunt, whatever spiteful busybodies may say. Nor, in the time-honoured context of there being rules for most but not for a chosen few, was there anything reproachable about his family's presence in County Durham at all. Just ask England's chief nursing officer, Ruth May, or Professor Jonathan Van-Tam, the deputy chief medical officer. On second thoughts, don't; they were not really on-side.
But no, going to Barnard Castle had nothing to do with sightseeing in a pretty little town, taking in castle ruins and - ok, this was done - relaxing at the riverside. Indeed, Dom's eyes were so bad sightseeing was hardly an option.
The simple, obvious fact is that this journey was undertaken for the purposes of an eye test. No, we don't mean opticians were open that Sunday, just that Dom needed to check after being so ill that his eyesight was up to the drive back south. And if you suggest a 48-mile round trip to Barney was perhaps not the best way to do that, think again. May we remind you who he is?
But in that tranquil setting, bright ideas flowed into this brightest of minds, briefly diverting Dom's attention from the impressive scenery. There would come a time, he already knew, when it would be necessary - if only to teach those tiresome Europeans a lesson - to crack down on travel to and from neighbouring countries.
No matter that the world would scoff at the country with Europe's worst record on Covid-19 teaching anyone but the US, Brazil and maybe one or two others a lesson. The point had to be made. With a spot of luck, it would be France. Yes, they'd coped with the crisis miles better, yes people broadly felt so much safer there than in the UK ... but hey, this was Macronland, fair game for wholehearted, thoroughbred British Brexiters.
Since we must accept at face value the assertion from Dom's wife that he is a kind-hearted and wholly misunderstood soul, it follows that Boris's muse was beside himself with sorrow when it turned out to be Spain that had to be subjected to hostile FCO travel advice and enforced quarantine for those returning. At least that twerp from transport - Shapps wasn't it (bring back good old Chris Grayling!)? - was among the trapped. But what about all those salt-of-the-earth, foreigner-hating Leave voters?
Never mind. Dom's little break in Barney and the Islington family's drive back from lockdown-compliant Durham had allowed him time to think ahead.
And duly the chance came. France, testing rather intensively, started to record rising numbers of new infections. Not hugely so, but even that new prime minister chappie, Jean Castle or Barnard Castex, had expressed concern. Everyone who went there reported feeling safer than in the UK. Even on the Government's newly massaged figures, UK deaths were running at a third higher. But so what ... never miss a chance for a spot of frog-bashing.
"But think of all those people whose lives will be turned upside down," someone at No 10 thought of saying before putting job preservation first.
Only one hurdle to clear. Dom, aware that Boris was a European at heart, also knew how to twist his arm now that he was so firmly on the Leave bandwagon of the Great NHS Lie
"Don't worry about the chaos, disruption, tears and hardship it'll cause," he whispered in the PM's ear. "They're probably all Remoaners anyway."
QED. "Right! We'll blame it on the science without actually publishing the science, " retorted Boris.
"Yah boo Manu Macron. Get Chaos Done."
- Boris assures France 2 he has more chance of being decapitated by a Frisbee or reincarnated as an olive than becoming Prime Minister ..
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