David Cameron, Your Friends are Slimeballs
In 2010, in the aftermath of the British election, the papers were all aglow with a story about David Cameron forming a coalition government with Nick Clegg over dinner. David, a terribly down-to-earth dad who might just be prime minister if only he could just get all these political nabby pambies sorted out, knew he needed Nick, so he did the only thing he could. He set the kitchen table, rolled his sleeves up, put marinated some pork and roasted it all with some veg. Then Nick Clark came over and Sam leaned against the counter casually and opened a bottle of white for them all. Then they formed a government, all while David stirred the gravy and the kids ran in and out of the kitchen like monkeys. How sensible! How unpretentious! How thoroughly normal!
A few months later, David and Samantha had another guest over. Not a politician, just a friend named James. He and his dad work in the media.
While Samantha fussed over her outfit upstairs, David poured James a drink, and they chatted about work for a while. James had to fire someone this week. The fellow got mad and went on and on about how he was going to “blow the whistle” and “declare war on the company”, a rough business, David surely agreed, and a vary undignified way to behave. Then Samantha came down, straightening her spanx, and she and Dave gave the babysitter some final instructions, and they remembered to grab a bottle of wine before they all headed out to their friend Rebekah’s Christmas party.
Rebekah was a highly successful journalist, a little intense but you’ve got to be, in that industry, amiright? David air kissed her on both cheeks and handed her a nice bottle of wine, while Samantha apologized for their lateness. Rebekah just gave her a hug and asked her how on earth she lost the baby weight so fast, and then they all sat down and had a lovely lovely meal together.
Of course, as we all know, Rebekah Brooks is now in prison. The Murdoch empire is under fire for hacking the telephones of politicians, celebrities, and victims of violent crimes, and David Cameron sits uncomfortably in the middle of it. In 2010, all of Murdoch’s papers wholeheartedly endorsed him for Prime Minister. He hired a former News of the World editor to be his press secretary. When this hacking issue was brought up in February, Cameron stood up for his friends and did not order an inquiry into the matter, dismissing it all as a silly witch hunt. Yesterday, former News of the World reporter, and one of the original whistleblowers, Sean Hoare was found dead in an apparent suicide.
This is all very very awkward. While I don’t believe that David Cameron knew the extent of what was going on at News of the World, I do not think his image will recover. He stood up for his friends, and his friends are almost certainly criminals. Even if they aren’t, they’re scuzzy. They’re classless, they are not good people. Modern, normal British dads just don’t make roast pork and go to Christmas parties with people who hack the telephones of rape-survivors. It’s like that moment when your otherwise reasonable, smart, lovely friend tells you he accidently had sex with a 16 year old in her parent’s basement. It doesn’t matter if he regrets it, you can’t look at him without thinking of him pawing some chick with a Justin Beiber ring tone. From this day on, I will never be able to look at David Cameron without thinking of him getting tipsy with Rebekah Brooks, comparing how addicted they each are to their blackberrys and laughing together about how much work they both have.
It’s ruined his normal image, it’s ruined his “middle class” image, and most of all, it’s ruined his “nice” image. David Cameron has fallen in with a bad crew, and the nice PM we knew might just be gone.