With his chunky features and King Billy-style wig, Sir Hans Sloane, born in Killyleagh in 1660, founder of the British Museum, creator of drinking chocolate, naturalist and avid collector of curiosities, has finally met a very 21st-century fate. He's been cancelled.
Sir Hans, or rather a bust of the boy, has been removed from the museum pedestal upon which he previously perched and has been relocated to a display area, where he and his works will now be described in "the exploitative context of the British Empire."
Sloane - founder also of the Natural History Museum and of the British Library - has been demoted because of his links to the slave trade.
From a relatively ordinary background in Co Down, Sir Hans married into big money. John Langley, the father of his wife, Elizabeth, was one of Jamaica's largest slave owners.
And it was with income from those plantations that Sloane funded his obsessive collecting habit. He left more than 71,000 artefacts - the basis for what became the British Museum.
He was a man of his time and was far from unusual, even in this part of the world, in profiting from slavery. (The family of Henry Joy McCracken, around 100 years later, also had links to the slave trade.) Before his marriage, Sloane had worked as a doctor in the Jamaican plantations.
After his marriage, he became something of a celebrity physician in London, caring for various nobs up to and including royalty. But he was also known for his extensive charity work with the poor.
Sloane's history is a complex one. His close links to the abominable slave trade are undeniable. His story is a mix of philanthropy and inhumanity.
And it's absolutely right that the museum he founded should flag that up.
The language they use is interesting though.
"We have pushed him off his pedestal," the museum director melodramatically declares, keeping in tune with current statue-toppling rhetoric. But, actually, what they've done is carefully remove his bust to another display of exhibits.
The truth is the museum's staff have always known about Sloane's links to slavery. Are they not a wee bit late in the day to only now put this "in context"?
Should the museum remove all his artefacts, given how they were acquired? Should it just shut up shop entirely? Push itself off its own pedestal, so to speak? As ever, the problem with statue censorship is where do you stop.
As effigy of Sloane elsewhere in London has also been targeted by statue-hunters, baying for colonialist concrete dust.
There's another monument to the man in his hometown of Killyleagh, not to mention numerous squares and streets named after him.
But "cancel" all that and how much does it actually achieve?
An awful lot of current symbolic gesturing seems more about enabling the gesturers to feel noble than about progressing real change.
In Washington, there was the bizarre incident this week when a group of mostly white supporters of BLM surrounded diners at a restaurant demanding they raise their fists to signal solidarity.
"White silence is violence," they chanted. Actually, no. Violence is violence. And waving your fist in people's faces is bullying. One woman, Lauren Victor, refused to comply. Ironically, she's attended many BLM protests.
Alone among the diners, she refused to put down her fork and raise her fist on the grounds that this was coercion and she felt under attack.
She told the Washington Post: "They like to think because I raise my fist it means something or other."
And in that one common sense comment, she sums up much of the madness of our signalling times.
It's only right that a bust of Sir Hans Sloane should be accompanied, in the seat of knowledge he founded, by an explicit and honest account of the dark side of his history.
I just think that account would have been more powerfully displayed in the bust's former, more prominent position, flagging up Sloane's key role in the museum's past and encouraging visitors to contemplate that.
Shunting him sideways - "pushing him off his pedestal" - doesn't change his, or, more importantly, the museum's story.
Symbolically shaking a fist at the past is rarely ever as effective as trying to learn from it.
There was a time when the holiday tan was a sign of affluence. You'd see these people who'd just returned from afar parading around town in sleeveless tops, bare-legged and goose-pimpled in the chill wind.
Then foreign travel became the norm and everybody got to look fluorescent for a few weeks every year.
This year, the holiday tan is looking a bit dubious. Especially for those in public office, who've been promoting staycationing to the rest of us as an alternative to non-essential travel to sun-drenched foreign shores.
Following the tone-deaf Instagram posting by Tory junior education minister Gillian Keegan from her idyllic French retreat (just as the exams fiasco was unfolding), people are understandably on the lookout for other evidence of overseas sunbathing by Government officials.
Which is why Matt Hancock, Secretary of State for Health, has been questioned about his recent, suspiciously dazzling, glow. A staycation with surfing in Cornwall, as it turns out.
Others have not been so careful about keeping to guidelines, as we saw this week with Golfgate down south, where various bigwigs attended a jolly for 80 people at a hotel in Clifden.
Since then, in resignation terms, they've been falling like skittles. Among them was EU trade commissioner Phil Hogan. It's not just the arrogance when public figures foul up that's so staggering. It's the stupidity. Seriously, did they think no one would notice?
In this case, no telltale tans to show for their ill-advised away-day.
But, all round, red faces.
Outside, possibly, of the Queen, no one is praying more that Prince Harry will return to Blighty and the royal fold than Henry Morley.
Who he? Henry is a Prince Harry lookalike, who was, according to reports, earning around £2,500 a week for guest appearances at functions.
Sadly, since Megxit, work has dried up. He's reported as saying he hasn't had a single booking.
Obviously, Covid may have had something to do with it, too.
But the work of a doppelganger is always a precarious one - as an Adele lookalike discovered when Adele lost all that weight.
Sometimes, it's really hard to keep up.
The five girls who won Popstars, The Rivals back in 2002 were one of reality TV’s big success stories.
Girls Aloud was made up of Derry girl Nadine Coyle, Nicola Roberts, Cheryl Tweedy (later to have several surname changes before she became simply Cheryl), Kimberley Walsh and Sarah Harding.
This week, Sarah revealed that, in recent months, she’s been ill with metastatic breast cancer, which has spread to other parts of her body.
Like so many other women, she’s dealing with a hellish disease.
As her bandmates have said, heartbreaking.