“He’s the angriest man you’ll ever meet,” Noel Gallagher once said of his brother, Liam. “He’s a man with a fork in a world of soup.”
For those who don’t know him, Dominic Cummings often appears afflicted with the same helpless rage – a maverick, furious with the broken world around him and armed with little more than the wrong cutlery. I don’t even know if Cummings likes Oasis, the rock band that made Liam and Noel so famous in the 1990s that Tony Blair invited them to Downing Street. But one thing is true, Cummings is quietly plotting his own version of a comeback tour. The World of Soup beware.
We meet in his elegant Islington town house, where he lives with his wife, the Spectator journalist Mary Wakefield. It’s situated bang in the middle of the metropolitan, satisfied, liberal, elitist enclaves of the city he so regularly excoriates. The downstairs kitchen is a jumbled mess of family life, a rusting child’s bike in the garden, comfy battered chairs and a list of school packed-lunch arrangements for his young son chalked on a blackboard.
At the end of the garden hangs a large illustration depicting the final scene of the film Modern Times, where the Tramp, played by Charlie Chaplin, is seen walking into the distance with the Gamine, his companion. For a movie about the dehumanising risks of early-20th century industrialisation, it strikes a hopeful note of a better future. Next to it in the garden is a boxer’s punch bag...<<<Read More>>>...
