Dorries slips off the leash to clean up the Big Dog’s mess | Stewart Lee


Roland the Farter was Henry II’s star court jester, shattering the dignity of society once a year when, during the King’s boisterous Christmas festivities, he delivered his explosive volleys on demand. The Farter would have served Boris Johnson’s rapidly decaying Brexit government well, characterized by a daily succession of stinking but plosive announcements designed solely to distract from its swift public outcome. But instead of Roland the Farter, we have Nadine Dorries, whose unfiltered gob-flatus exposes deeper truths than the celebrated Roland’s celebratory flatulence could reveal.

Last Monday, Dorries opened the 70s lost and found PE drawstring bag from her mouth and let out a whole slew of cats from the Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber West End musical. Dorries is a natural fool whom Shakespeare would have recognized, an accidental midwife free from the social restrictions of the ordinary citizen. In a Westminster-esque world of lies, Dorries blurts out accidental truths even as all around her tries to cover them up. In vino veritas.

First, in a rash attack on Johnson’s late critic Jeremy Hunt, Dorries explained how, under Hunt’s watch, his party’s pandemic preparedness was “lacking and inadequate” for six years. Nobody told him that the Conservatives weren’t really supposed to admit it. Dorries’ wall testimony incriminates conservatives as a whole. It is her own aim to demand another one of her utterly inconsistent testimonies at a future parliamentary select committee inquiry, where she will eventually insist that Bupa be privatised.

Then, like a cruel parent revealing there’s no Santa Claus to a crying child, Dorries explained: ‘Tory donors said they wouldn’t support the party if the Prime Minister was impeached. . I think a number of MPs in fringe seats need to hear that and understand what they’re doing; £80m, these donors have donated to the Conservative Party lately and it was these donors who helped us win the election. »

Nyaaaagh! Dorries has reconfirmed in one fell swoop the sham of our democracy, where hard cash buys influence. But she didn’t realize that she’s at least supposed to pretend, after Paterson, that this isn’t the case and that everyone is acting on principle for a higher purpose. For Dorries, MPs are not servants of the people who elected them, but latex-clad lapdancers bound to spin for cash on the groins of party donors who own their asses, while members of the public on 30p-a-day meal budgets press their faces against the windows of Spearmint Rhino, salivating at the world-famous wings.

But it’s always been obvious, I guess. Johnson, for example, never misses an opportunity to show off internationally, swimsuit-style on the yellow bonnet of one of Tory donor Lord Bamford’s JCB earth-moving machines. Bamford appears to see its £10m funding from the Conservative Party as an extension of its digger marketing costs. Having Johnson charitably compelled to lay on the dirt bucket of the nearest digger once a month is cheaper than paying for an ad campaign. Johnson is a Lamb’s Navy Rum calendar model from Bizarro World, the Caroline Munro of earth-moving machinery. The front of her metaphorical white leather swimsuit is still unzipped, suggesting that her throbbing JCB could also move the earth for you. Buy more diggers, peasants!

And if you’re the kind of person who’s always found your local Threshers a little too pretentious, then you’re probably already a customer of Tory giver Lord Choudey’s Bestway’s Bargain Booze chain, the liquor retail equivalent of a trough. stainless steel pig bowl filled with White Diamond. Keep the peasants drunk or they might find out what’s going on! It’s unclear how Choudey profits from Tory funding, but Bargain Booze’s cheap and cheerful image seems extremely on-brand for Partygate’s party, Wine-Time Friday and the face of Dorries’ late-night lobby. Johnson’s sniffed victory speech after last week’s confidence vote suggests a Vicks Sinex bung can’t be too far off either. Suddenly, the fact that it is actually conservative donors like Choudey and Bamford who are setting the national agenda seems all too obvious.

But by midweek, Dorries’ indiscreet revelations were overshadowed. The party teeters in free fall from one unchecked announcement to another, chips designed to get Big Dog through the day. We were told once again that we were the fastest growing economy in the world, but on Wednesday the FinancialTimes revealed that our long-term prognosis is the second worst of the G20, only Russia suffering more than us. The only thing worse for long-term economic growth than Brexit, it seems, is being sanctioned by the rest of the world for starting a war. According to the shocked spokesman doing the rounds, taxes were either being raised or lowered and the definition of what “building a hospital” actually meant was being recalibrated to fit the claim that 40 new hospitals were in being built, when they weren’t, and never were. But how do you keep this stuff out of public view?

The highlight of Roland le Farter was a number entitled “Unum saltum et whistetum et unum bumbulum”, namely the simultaneous performance of a jump, a whistle and a fart. By accident or design, Dorries is that leap. She is that whistle. Dorries is that fart, prepared for any situation to cause blind consternation, in the hope that the resulting stench will distract from the ongoing large-scale corruption of the Brexit government. Johnson is rewriting the rules, as billions of dollars pour into Accelerated Friends businesses. But Johnson hit all the big calls, the big calls being the words “Bubble!” Bubble! Bubbler! shouted by a young rights holder from the wreckage of a ransacked Oxford restaurant as £20 notes are burned in the faces of homeless people on the street outside.


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