Quintin Jardine's blog

As we stumble towards the Sortida from the European Union, an era-changing event which will take place under the supervision of a minority government that is itself significantly split on the issue and under attack from so-called democrats who choose to ignore or try to circumvent a clear majority vote, (among these I include the newly emboldened David Miliband, a man who lacked the guts to run against Gordon Brown, then pissed off to New York in a huff when his kid brother frustrated his own assumed succession) I am struck by a non-presence, a great awkward gas cloud floating around hoping that once the carnage is over it can coalesce and become a star once more.

How about that for bullshit? It’s appropriate though, for I am talking about David Cameron. Two years ago, when the electorate told him to his face that he isn’t nearly as clever as he thought, he dragged his serene and lovely wife out of Downing Street and ran the fuck away from the mess he had created, giving a very fair impression of a snivelling coward. And he’s barely been seen since. Okay, if you’re a regular attender on the grand a plate dinner circuit you may have seen him, but as far as the rest of us are concerned he has nicked Harry Potter’s Cloak of Invisibility and slytherined back to wizarding school to resit his finals.

Seriously, where the hell is he? Having made the mess by his careless concession of a referendum why isn’t he front and centre in dealing with the aftermath rather than the hopeless, sorry, hapless David Davis, under the beady eye of Professor MacGonnagall herself, who is now recognised as the worst of a bad lot?

Thinking back two years, to the day it all came down and I woke to discover to my great surprise that for once in my life I had backed the winner, I believe something firmly now that took a while to dawn on me. David Cameron’s behaviour then, in fleeing from the consequences of his action, and his subsequent silence, makes Neville Chamberlain look like Genghis fucking Khan.