Folly of taking a sledge-hammer to crack a Nut Nut (or a Johnson)

WONDERS WHO IS REALLY IN CHARGE AT 10 DOWNING STREET

THIS column generally stays out of politics. The subject attracts hotheads and, oddly enough, as universal communication and global technology grow more sophisticated, the resultant increase in political involvement has made people more tribal.

All that said, recent events at 10 Downing Street demand we deploy our forensic analytical skills, without stooping to the depths of ideology and shallow satire. All right, without stooping to the depths of ideology.

In particular, we worry over the influence an unelected wife or bideyin (see shocking revelations on this state of affairs – so to say – below) can have on the Prime Minister of the day. The issue arose when Boris McJohnson’s favourite squeeze,

Carrie Symonds, was accused of having too much influence on British policy-making.

The PM’s popular chief adviser, Dominic Cummings, and chief of staff (too many chiefs and not enough native Americans), Lee Cain, deplored this state of affairs and started “briefing” about it, prompting “counter-briefings”, from the Symonds camp. That’s a lot of briefs.

The briefers, who were briefly shown the door as it turned out, accused Miss Symonds of seeking to “run the Government by WhatsApp”, which my researchers say is something to do with computers.

It’s alleged she called the PM’s private office up to 20 times a day and texted him 25 times an hour

– an hour! – about policy issues. Surely, that latter claim can’t be correct. It takes me 25 mins to type a text saying, “C U at 6.”

But the Cummings-Cain axis was also texting hither and yon, not least slating poor Carrie as “Princess Nut Nut”. Perhaps they were just taking the pistachio. At any rate, the political pages of the English press were consumed with passionate debate about whether it was “Nut Nuts” or “Nut Nut”, with most informed and academic opinion staking their reputations on the latter.

If all this sounds trivial, with Nut Nut not an expression you could get past our testy First Minister, fears grew that this spelled the end of the O’Johnson regime.

One unnamed gossip said: “You can smell it. It’s the end of days. It’s a story as old as time. The Mad Queen destroys the court.” Miss Symonds’ supporters described this as “rank misogyny”. At least both sides agreed something was minging.

I don’t mean to sound sniffy but, if Cummings and Cain are correct, is it right that a spouse or partner can have so much influence? Until recently, I got one of my neighbours to write my columns, as I’m far too busy for that sort of thing. You may have noticed an increase in quality for several months. However, when she demanded more than a 12.5% share of the profits, I had to terminate the arrangement. Obviously, the saleability lies in the “Rab

McNeil” brand, which is recognised across the world (except for credit).

But that’s me. I am unimportant. The Prime Minister of England and the Other Bits is arguably otherwise, and cannot be getting his missus or, in his case, burd to dictate the policies of the day.

Incidentally, I’ve just checked with Downing Street, and it appears Mr Johnson and Miss Symonds are still unmarried, thus fuelling perceptions that the Conservative Party is run by louche hippies.

In addition, Miss Symonds frets about yonder environment and, worse still, animal welfare, which is anathema to decent, taxpaying Tories. Cruelty to animals is a key cornerstone of traditional Conservatism, and Miss Symonds’ antipathy to it indicates that she’s trying to drag the party in a Marxist direction, perhaps even into a formal alliance with leading vegan-pilates instructor Prince Harry.

This cannot stand. Decent Conservative voters didn’t vote Carrie. They voted Cummings and Cain, loyal, innocent men who only wanted to serve their country, and Scotland too, if time permitted. We haven’t heard the last of them. Even now, they’re said to be plotting revenge. Oh, to be a fly on that walnut.