Alastair Campbell: Boris Johnson is a bastard and has condemned us all to a dystopian Covid hell – Alastair Campbell

It’s not a good sign to wake up before 4 a.m., think of truck drivers, and then mutter the C word to myself when the thought of that smiling, clueless, clueless blonde clown comes to mind.

He was even dreaming of the chaos the blonde haired clown had created, grinning, grinning, and clueless. That’s not a good sign either.

I was on the other side of the Channel (chance would be a good thing) and we were heading towards the Eurotunnel.

The dog was in the back of the car and as we drove into downtown Pet Passport, we were unable to pass due to a chaotic mix of runaway police officers brandishing batons, refugees in rags trying to board trucks, all around him. lots and lots of rotten fruits and vegetables, children crying, dogs barking.

Words alone don’t convey the dystopian hell of all this, but at least I knew why I woke up to the clock at 3.54am and uttered my first expletive of the day at 3.55am.

It is not just the blonde haired clown, who smiles, smirks and has no idea.

What about the stalker in charge of the police who yesterday took to the airwaves to convey the blinding perception that ‘the police are very important for surveillance’, that ‘trucks are not static’ when they are delivering goods, and maintained that the government had always been ‘ahead of the curve’ in its handling of Covid?

What about Frank Spencer’s that we should take seriously as Secretary of Education?

Or the one when the Brexit secretary spoke of discovering the importance of the Calais-Dover route as if he had just seen an apple fall from a tree and muttered “Eureka … gravity?”

And now he is Secretary of Foreign Relations, or “whatever his name is,” as his counterparts call him.

Kent, the garden of England, where you are less likely to see an apple fall than another truck entering a disused airfield.

An airfield that was fought to reopen by the nicotine-stained frogman who lived in Kent and who played an important role in the campaign to get us out of Europe.

Kent, on whose coast and in whose hotels the nicotine-stained frogman has spent much of the year filming a small number of refugees and asylum-seekers, but has not yet brought his home cinema equipment to Manston to film the thousands … or 170, as the smiling and disoriented blond clown put it, of foreigners desperately trying to go in the opposite direction from the nicotine-stained frogman’s ‘Armada’.

‘So what would you do?’ It’s a fairly common response on social media to my regular Tweets and Instagram Lives that point out the various and many shortcomings of the smiling, clueless, clueless blonde clown and the unfortunate Vote Leave sect that happens to be the Cabinet.

I honestly think ‘we wouldn’t start from here’, but since we’re here, it’s still a fair question.

So what I would have done in our day, when I saw the truck parking lot getting more and more crowded, and then I saw the Sky News report showing trucks parked on almost every road and trail, would have been to call Tessa Jowell.

The current government has a real empathy problem. It goes to the heart of why they are so useless.

Because the grinning, grinning, clueless blonde clown in particular is less motivated by the impact of his policies and decisions on real people than by himself, what the media says about him, and what his wealthy friends and donors think of him. .

This, remember, is the man who a few days ago simply ignored the observation of a woman who asked him a question in a briefing that he had lost two people to Covid; And who at the next briefing thought a question about a no-deal Brexit, and whether the current chaos in Dover was a foretaste, decided it was time to burst into a burst of gleeful laughter.

Why Tessa Jowell? Because he had real empathy. But she also had the organizational gift to accompany him. For this reason, after the attacks of September 11 and July 7 in London, Tony Blair asked him to take care of the needs of the families of the deceased.

If the smiling blond clown with a teasing and clueless grin had had an overnight personality transplant and decided that, for example, the well-being of thousands of truck drivers stuck in their taxis without access to food or sanitation it deserved your attention, can you think? of a single minister who has the human and organizational skills to go there and control it? No, me neither.

I often think of Tessa in relation to London 2012, and the Olympics and Paralympics she did so much to deliver, and the smiling, clueless, clueless blonde clown did so much to explode. In less than a decade, the Olympic spirit is gone.

The UK’s ranking at the top of Soft Power’s global index has disappeared. Competent and empathetic government is gone. Merry Christmas? … With this batch in charge, you’ve got to be kidding me.