Sir Jeffrey Donaldson should be content to sit where he is. The way things are going at Westminster, he has more chance of becoming PM there than he has of becoming First Minister here.
Westminster, and the commentariat that attends it, descended into a new level of lunacy this week. We had MPs bickering over boozing and blackmail, a Pork Pie Plot, Red Meat and Operation Save Big Dog. Tories were jumping ship, jostling for position and quoting a tyrant.
It makes Stormont look borderline stable.
The Commons was packed to the rafters for PM’s Questions mid-week. Even when you aren’t aware of what’s on the agenda, you always know if it’s standing room only in the House, the debate’s not about Northern Ireland.
Ministers were huddled around the PM like flies around a cowpat. Not necessarily there to show support, but positioning themselves upfront as candidates in a leadership battle should Sue Gray’s investigation strike the fatal blow on BoJo.
One Tory MP had defected to Labour. Another, David Brutus Davis, with the smug look of a man who’d been up all night thinking of a clever line, demanded of the Boozter: “In the name of God, go.”
It was Oliver Cromwell who first used that line. Quoting the infamous Lord Protector in a debate about wine and cheese is certainly calling in the big guns.
But, in the current febrile political atmosphere, everybody seems to have lost all sense of proportion.
Even the artist Tracey Emin has weighed in, demanding that Number 10 returns her Passion. She’d donated her neon artwork, entitled More Passion, to Downing Street a decade ago and neon, she warned, was notorious for evoking “a party atmosphere.”
Obviously Boris and Co are more susceptible to Passion’s vibes than previous Number 10 occupants.
Meanwhile, on the telly, the most jaw-dropping interview of the week wasn’t the one where Boris bit his bottom lip and said nobody told him a knees-up wasn’t work.
It was a lengthy Sky News interview with a five-year-old child where she was quizzed about whether she “forgave” the PM and whether she felt he should continue in office.
It was excruciating viewing.
The little girl in question was Layla, a cute and obviously bright wee thing who’d starred in a viral video shot by her parents. In it she’d summarised the PM’s transgressions and threw in some observations of her own about how he should be sent to the naughty centre.
That the clip went viral sums up how eager the nation is right now for some diversion from the Commons caterwauling.
But Sky wasn’t content merely to show the video. The child was lined up for an afternoon interview along with her doting parents.
Did she forgive the PM? Yes, she said in the quiet voice of a little one who isn’t even sure what forgive means. Did she think the PM should resign? Yes she did. But also, no she didn’t. Layla seemed utterly baffled about what was going on. Same here.
Questioning a Year One like she’s Robert Peston is a measure of how desperately the barrel of political analysis is now being scraped.
No wonder the rest of the country has resorted to memes.
But spare me, please, the Boris memes. I’ve had it up to here with them. You can gauge the impact of any big news story these days by the scale of memes and online jokes it spawns.
Throughout this week, my poor phone’s been finding it hard to keep up with the incoming pinging.
It’s not just the quantity. It’s the quality. Some of the things you get sent are genius. An awful, awful lot are rubbish; not terribly funny at all.
Even the much-lauded vid of Boris being questioned by AC-12 and Superintendent Ted Hastings goes on just a bit too much. It was a brilliant idea that started off so well but then became like a party political broadcast on behalf of the We’ve Too Much Time on Our Hands party.
The memes, the madness, the hoo-ha and the humour over Partygate make it seem like this is the biggest story in the world right now. It isn’t.
Russia is shaping up to invade the Ukraine, a move that could precipitate global conflict.
But never mind. If World War III does break out, you’ll know when the jokey videos of Vladimir start pinging into your phone.
Meat Loaf, the singer for whom the description “larger than life” was surely coined, has sadly died at the age of 74.
Or 70, as he would have preferred. He liked to knock a few years of his real age.
Along with songwriter Jim Steinman, he spent four years creating the legendary album Bat Out of Hell, one of the top 10 bestselling albums of all time.
The pair, who fought the bit out, used to say that their music was a mix of Phil Spector, Bruce Springsteen and Wagner.
A modest appraisal.
Has anybody ever ordered one of those mattresses you see advertised on TV? The ones you can return after 100 days if you’re not happy. Has anybody ever returned a mattress after 100 unhappy days (and presumably nights)?
One version you’re allowed to keep for 200 days before return. If you had it delivered after sending back your 100-day one, this could potentially, provide you with almost a year’s free mattressing. Sending mattresses back sounds like an ordeal, though. Then again, as they say, you’ve made your bed, lie on it.
Like many very rich men before him Jeff Bezos, Amazon founder, has launched a search to discover the secret of eternal youth. He’s pouring billions into research to combat disease and potentially halt ageing. It’s a noble crusade, but what inspired it?
The old saying about the downside of having a great fortune is that you can’t take it with you. Perhaps that’s why Mr Bezos is seeking to extend the amount of time he stays with his.