After binning those unelected EU bureaucrats, it was time for the PM to assert some authority. Luckily, Dom was there to help
It hadn’t been one of Boris Johnson’s more restful nights. First the succession of text messages from Dominic Cummings telling him who to sack. Then the nudges in the ribs from Carrie telling him who to keep. To top it all, he was still wracking his brains trying to remember who had paid for his £15K winter break to Mustique. How could he be expected to keep track of that level of detail? He was fairly sure Prince Andrew didn’t remember who paid for all of his holidays.
Boris had dragged his heels before heading over to the Commons in the morning. He hated any form of confrontation and had hoped to get the tricky bits of the reshuffle done by text. Hell, it was the way he had ended all his affairs. And what was good for a lover was more than enough for a mere cabinet minister. But Dom had insisted there was a protocol to be observed – “Try to enjoy their pain” – and such matters were best done face to face.
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