Sir Jeffrey hasn’t had an easy week. First, Ian Og rushes out to warn that Rishi’s Windsor Framework doesn’t cut the mustard, then he parks his think-tank on the leader’s lawn, with the big gun trained on the 1800 Act of Union. We talk of little else in our house.
So what can he do? He did warn that the decision would not be rushed, especially when pundits were pointing out that his magnificent seven requirements had not been met. Quick, circle the wagons: form a committee of party sages so that whatever the decision, the blame will be spread.
Does that look like leadership? Well, he does have two former party leaders among the committee, Dame Arlene whose attention to “every jot and tittle” on RHI was legendary, and the party’s éminence grise, Peter Robinson.
Robbo might be just the man to sniff the wind and decide that there’s little interest at Westminster for yet another episode of Stormont-Enders, whose script is getting a bit samey, so they may as well support the deal. And they can do it without actually appearing to say yes, just like they did with the Good Friday Agreement. Genius.
Then they get to face in several directions at once in time for the local government elections where they can tell voters that: A. It was the DUP wot won it; and B. Nah, it’s not enough, but we might go back to Stormont while we wait for more concessions, because our MLAs are keen to earn a wage. Win win.
It’s a bit like politics via focus group, except that those groups usually like to have a good spread of viewpoints. The DUP aren’t so keen on that sort of thing.
****
We had all heard that top civil servant Sue Gray was good – mostly from Tories after she was appointed to head the partygate inquiry. Even afterwards when Boris Johnson declared that her report had vindicated him, she was still good.
But who knew that Ms Gray, and her wannabe boss Keir Starmer were quite as fiendishly smart as Rees-Mogg, Nadine Dorries and dozens of squealing backbenchers would have us believe.
In secret talks behind the scenes, the pair apparently managed to make Number 10 staff hold parties, fill suitcases with booze, get drunk, break young Wilf’s swing, get the PM to join in the hilarity and then connive to get him to pick her to take charge of the inquiry into all the parties that didn’t happen, or if they did, he didn’t notice. More genius.
How she also pulled off getting MP Chris Pincher to grope another man in a bar, then have the PM lie about knowing all about his behaviour, then getting 30 of Johnson’s cabinet colleagues to resign in protest, is breathtaking. No wonder Starmer wants her as his chief of staff. Jeffrey should have her on his committee.
****
It’s really hard to take in the news that Boris Johnson has actually drawn up a list of over 100 people to receive honours, including his da, Stanley, whom he wants to get a knighthood.
This is the same Stanley Johnson who was accused by Tory MP Caroline Nokes of groping her, who a recent book claimed – unchallenged – that he had broken his wife’s nose in a domestic violence incident, and who allegedly sexually harassed his teenage au pairs.
If this doesn’t forever consign the whole tawdry “honours” system to the bin, I don’t know what will.
****
It’s great news that Royal Avenue has once again got a cinema, now that a multiplex has opened in the former Debenhams store at CastleCourt.
I’m old enough to remember the old Avenue picture-house that once graced the area. It hosted the first talkie in 1929 and the first Sunday opening in 1977 when a group of largely DUP supporters protested outside.
They saw the screening as the beginning of the end of the 'never on a Sunday' prohibition on fun in God-fearing Ulster. First it was kids being allowed to use the swings in the city’s parks, then it was films, then actual, devil-inspired shopping.
There was a time when a committee of Belfast City Council used to watch any controversial films to see if they were suitable for the rest of us. Thus Last Tango in Paris was shown to appalled city fathers, one of whom later told reporters there were scenes that were “definitely photographic".
So what was the film destined to destroy our morals at The Avenue on that fateful Sunday? Abba, The Movie.
