At Christmastime everyone needs a big, big dog to sit by the fire, wait by the door, or look mournful at the dinner table till someone throws it a cranberry. In The Bishop’s Wife, a 1947 holiday classic, the Brougham family had Queenie — a lovable (but brandyless) St. Bernard dog:
Christmas is also a time for remembering those no longer with us. They may have caused us pain, they may have pooped on the rug (literally or metaphorically), but still they were part of the family. So when we think of Christmas mirth, of banquets and balls, it is incumbent upon us to remember one whose name is synonymous with banquets (if not balls): Boris Johnson.
Straight from the Ministry of Euphemism, and drier than a sherry excreted by Wilfrid Hyde-White, Sue Gray’s non-report about not-parties at No10 has finally dropped. No names are mentioned, so it’s left to the reader’s imagination who did what, and to whom.
Gray stresses that due partly to constraints placed upon her, and to her own internal deliberations, she can’t actually tell us much that is not of a general, non-specific nature, and that her non-report is not meaningful. (The latter fulfils the formal requirement of any ministerial report by stating the bleeding obvious.)
To students of the English language, her non-report is perhaps most striking for what it does not say. UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson was understandably grateful:
Couched as it is in generalities, and relying on the nebulous term ‘gatherings’, her report nevertheless notes that ‘The excessive consumption of alcohol is not appropriate in a professional workplace at any time’ and ‘Pastoral care and support will be provided to all staff involved’. Translated from the bureaucratese to the vernacular, this apparently means ‘Fizzy-good make feel nice’:
Bereft of detail, still, the Sue Gray non-report implies that the Tories are in need of major rehab, not just a quick Alka-Seltzer behind the cricket pitch.
Michael Howard
The views expressed are my own, and do not represent any other person or organization.
The Boris Johnson #Partygate scandal has now entered the cascade phase, living up to Dame Angela Eagle’s once comical remark that it might be faster to investigate the days there weren’t parties at 10 Downing:
At Eton, Johnson was apparently out carousing when they covered Watergate, and didn’t realise the cover-up is always worse than the crime. But the penny has finally dropped for many junior ministers and aides. Today brought a sudden, mad Tory rush to confess and look contrite before being caught bang to rights by emerging evidence. The unspoken horror is that some brave copper will leak CCTV footage which resembles a scene from Caligula. Continue reading →
For those not following UK politics, Prime Minister Boris Johnson has faced withering criticism for a scandal known as #Partygate. The New Yorker gives the lowdown to Americans in a lively piece by Rebecca Mead.
The latest fillip is his claim that he innocently mistook a party for a work event. Far worse than Trump’s covfefe miscue, Johnson’s non-apology apology is the gaff that launched a thousand memes. Naturally, I had to get into the act:
The latest twist really calls for a mini-tutorial in Event Identification for Dummies. This Channel 4 News reconstruction of a party at 10 Downing is just the ticket. You know it’s not a work event when there are a) snowball fights and b) puppet shows:
My parody is actually based on Good Cheer, a 1926 Hal Roach Our Gang comedy short which strikes me as rather avant-garde. You can view the short on Vimeo here:
Hilarious parody of the Partygate scandal, in which UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson and staff were accused of partying while most of the country was in Tier 3 lockdown due to COVID-19. Statements by Johnson and aide Allegra Stratton are met with quips and comebacks by leading characters from British comedy. “Reconstructions” of alleged party incidents take the form of clips from Beat Girl (1961) and Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster (1972). Note the reference to “Life Cry,” a fictional alcoholic beverage introduced by Fran Katzenjammer in the Black Books episode “Elephants and Hens.” Watch below:
At Christmastime everyone needs a big, big dog to sit by the fire, wait by the door, or look mournful at the dinner table till someone throws it a cranberry. In The Bishop’s Wife, a 1947 holiday classic, the Brougham family had Queenie — a lovable (but brandyless) St. Bernard dog:
Ethics and Spirituality 