I'm trying to imagine the small talk as Dominic Cummings sat with his wife and son by the Tees in Barnard Castle.
'You know, Mary, we've had to go through this Covid-19 ordeal. But it can work in our favour. When Brexit really starts to hurt, we can just blame the coronavirus.' Mary, not for the first time, was utterly starstruck.
'Darling, you're such a genius. I must get The Spectator to say so again'. Here, separated from an unduly long piece to be found here, is what else happened on that lovely Sunday as Dom endured a wholly justifiable family outing but only for the greater good of the country ...
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 and only in Barnard Castle, 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 that things seemed better organised, hand gel dispensers everywhere, venues closed (even the famous Senequier in Saint-Tropez shut down after two members of staff tested positive), the obligation to wear face masks properly enforced. Even on the UK Government's newly massaged figures, deaths in Britain 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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