Key Government advisor and malevolent cartoon testicle Dominic Cummings yesterday ascended beyond the realm of political analysis and into quantum physics when his status apparently became being a) fired, b) on garden leave, c) a dick, and d) working from home, simultaneously.
In light of conflicting reports on the reasons and circumstances behind his firing/homeworking/promotion, none of which you can trust as far as you can comfortably spit out the journalist making them, particle physicists stepped into the yawning understanding chasm and reached the inevitable conclusion that all possible scenarios must be true. And also none of them. A state of being that is both a common feature of armchair quantum physics like what you saw on Stargate Atlantis once and also the political philosophy of Vladislav Surkov, ex-theatre student and guru to Vladimir Putin. Surkov famously used performance art ideas to seed mass confusion and distrust in the Russian media, rendering fact checking obsolete and truth distorted to such an extent that Putin was able to act without being held to account. Cummings, being not as clever, only managed a shit Poundstretcher version of this strategy, including such masterstrokes as a Sunday drive to a castle for an eye test, leaving his boss as exposed as a dropped-trousered anus at a Bullingdon Club dinner.
Boris Johnson's fiancé and Russian sleeper agent Carrie Symondsova was said to be at the heart of the defenestration of Cummings, a man who managed to gaslight the entire political commentariat into thinking he was a 3-D chess playing game theory genius but who was famously intellectually and physically bested by a squirrel trapped in a bin at Alton Towers. And yet, at the same time, it was Cummings' intention to leave at the end of the year all along, with the official version saying he was working on a mass testing programme from one of his multiple homes, and honestly who even gives an unlubricated bumfuck at this point?
Cummings made sure to leave his post as discreetly as possible via the front door of the most famous bloody terraced house in London carrying a box of his office effects when HE DOESN'T EVEN HAVE AN OFFICE THERE. So sorry, there's no way there's anything in that box, plus he left his security lanyard on which even Phones4fuckingU would have been hotter on removing from folk as they shitted them out of their offices when they went under.
Of course, Labour were too busy knifing each other over various racism scandals to offer a comment, although we understand Keir Starmer said something mildly salty in an interview; glad to have you on board chief. Good show.
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