Trailing a whiff of cordite, the evil genius ran riot
MAN the defibrillators! Fetch the Cabinet Secretary an extra large oxygen tank! Dominic Cummings, unapologetic scruffbag and scourge of grey-suited mandarins everywhere returned to Westminster yesterday, and, as ever, his gremlin-like figure was trailed by the strong, distinctive whiff of cordite. The Prime Minister’s erstwhile éminence grise was summoned before Parliament’s science and technology committee. Usually these encounters are drab and dreary thumb twiddlers. Not for the first time in his crash-bang career, Mr Cummings had very different ideas. For just shy of two hours, Cummings carried off his selfmoulded role as part football hooligan, part evil genius with riotous aplomb. By the end of his grilling, he’d dissed the Civil Service (‘a disaster zone’), trolled the EU’s vaccine programme (‘insane’), ridiculed David Cameron and George Osborne’s time in office (‘disastrous’) and driven a tank right through the Department of Health, squishing poor Matt Hancock beneath his caterpillar tracks. Glorious! Meanwhile, this entreatingly outré display of braggadocio was peppered with casual references to fellow freethinking virtuosos such as creators of the Manhattan Project, leslie Groves and Hermann Joseph Muller; Enigma code-breaking genius Alan Turing; Apple’s Steve Jobs; and Microsoft’s Bill Gates. Modest, moi? Cummings’s evidence centred on the Government’s Advanced Research and invention Agency, better known as Aria, a grand scientific project that he hopes will be his political legacy. The monster to his Dr Frankenstein, if you will.
Up first was committee chairman Greg Clark. You remember dull dog Greg. Ex-Cabinet minister. Hates Brexit. Hates Dom even more, if reports are to be believed.
Clark pointedly referred to him as ‘Mr Cummings.’ To everyone else he was plain ‘Dominic or Dom.’ Cummings told the committee Aria’s creation had been conditional on him accepting a job when Boris visited his house just days before becoming Prime Minister. (Note the PM came to his house. Always Dom who wags the dog, see?)
Mr Clark was curious why Aria was taking so long to set up. Ugh! Ruddy government bureaucracy, explained Cummings.
WHiTEHAll was a bunged-up sewer of civil service red tape which needed attacking with a Cummingsshaped dyno-rod. it was ‘horrific,’ Dom huffed. Groves and Muller never had to put up with it when they were enriching their uranium.
Apart from taking the trouble to wear a collared shirt, Cummings looked much the same as he did before his defenestration. The only noticeable difference was the security pass around his neck which now read ‘Visitor’.
As for the committee, they peered at him with the curiosity that astronauts might show toward an ectoplasmic organism they’d peeled from the underside of their spaceship. Was he real? How did he breathe? Katherine Fletcher (Con, S Ribble) looked as though she wanted to reach through her computer lens and give Cummings an explorative poke.
She was curious who would run Aria. Cummings agreed that he shouldn’t be anywhere near it. Phew! Nor should any government ministers. God, no! Ministers make decisions. Ridiculous idea. Small wonder they couldn’t stand him.
No, he wanted a scientist in charge. Preferably someone ‘odd’. Mr Cummings, it transpired, was keen on people he sees as ‘odd’. Also, they would need to be someone with ‘good taste’ he said, as though selecting someone to choose upholstery patterns.
Fletcher suspected this meant a man. Well, he did have one woman in mind. Keira something. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten her surname.
Dawn Butler (lab, Brent Central) took a wild swing and brought up the £45,000 pay rise Boris awarded Cummings last year. Ah, explained Cummings, the extra cash was simply the reversal of a voluntary pay cut he’d taken when he first arrived in Downing Street.
‘For some reason this has appeared in the media as if i got a pay rise after Covid. That didn’t happen,’ he sighed. Dawn’s face crumpled. That was supposed to be her headlinegrabber. Spoilsport.
Having started the session like a child in detention, Cummings was beginning to thaw. The arms moved and the shoulders turned. We even got the odd smile. He was starting to enjoy himself.
Carol Monaghan (SNP, Glasgow NW) lasered in on dodgy PPE contracts. Naturally, Cummings had seen the PPE shortages coming.
He’d taken one look at the DoH and declared it an ‘expensive disaster zone’ which would ‘completely fall over’. Worse was to come for Hancock. Cummings began explaining how the DoH had been ‘a smoking ruin, in terms of procurement’. it had been ‘an absolute disaster’ in terms of buying. This was why he and Sir Patrick Vallance (not Boris!) decided No 10 should take control of the vaccine rollout. Apparently, Bill Gates had been totally on board with the idea.
lack of science funding was a big Cummings’ gripe. Cameron and Osborne? Those fops didn’t know their copper sulphate from their potassium manganate.
CUMMiNGS claimed before he arrived on the scene, anyone requiring government funding for science was required to fill in an impact assessment form. ‘Alan Turing never had to fill in an impact assessment form,’ sighed Dom.
When Corbynite crusader Rebecca long Bailey (lab, Salford) entered the fray, i sensed a ding-dong in the offing.
Far from it. Becky was giddier than a teeny bopper. She and Cummings bonded over the Treasury’s tight-fistedness.
‘i didn’t watch the budget,’ Cummings remarked dismissively. ‘You didn’t miss much!’ chirped Becky.
it later turned out Cummings never bothered tuning in to PMQs when he was at No 10 either. Paid about as much attention to it as he did his wardrobe. Parliamentary procedure? Paah! For little people.
By now Cummings been speaking for over 100 minutes. Clark wrapped things up by asking him if he regretted his departure from the heart of government.
Not all, Dom explained. He’d always planned to leave when he did. With so many ‘crazy stories’ around, Cummings told the committee he’d happily come back and clear up a few things about No 10 anytime they liked.
That loud noise you may have heard at that point? Oh, just the collective crash of cups and saucers echoing all the way along Downing Street.