I view human nature through the Techniscope ™® lens of 1960s Italian cowboy films. In Spaghetti Western World, the men we most despise are those who, when the chips are down, snatch an innocent peasant child and put a pistol to their temple, to use as a human shield until their demands are met. Our cowardly prime minister, cornered by the possibility of a catastrophic election defeat, has just done the same thing, but instead of merely manhandling an infant peon on the steps of a saloon, he is holding a gun to the head of the whole world and threatening the future of all life on Earth. See him now in His Name Is Sunak, Our Angel of Death, and You Must Prepare Your Coffin, Amigo (Gianfranco Parolini, 1968).
For Sunak has, in the face of all credible scientific evidence, and in naked contempt for the international court of civilised opinion, decided to grant hundreds of new licences for drilling for North Sea oil. Why? Is Sunak perhaps sexually aroused by the idea of being held in contempt on a global scale? Does he retire to his North Yorkshire mansion priapic and alone under a cloud of assumed loathing, wondering in the dark what he can do to make himself ever-more despised? Did Sunak choose his job as an investment banker because he enjoyed the rhyming slang connotations?
