A Letter To My MP

Recently in the UK there has been a trend for clapping at 8pm on Thursdays in honor of hospital workers. You might recognise this as functionally worthless at best, and outright hypocrisy from those who voted for the successive governments that gutted the healthcare system and who have now catastrophically mismanaged the pandemic.

Still, I saw an idea floated online that tonight, instead of clapping, we should take some time and write to our member(s) of parliament. Specifically, we should all ask them what the fuck they think they’re playing at by condoning the continued employment of Dominic Cummings as an advisor to the Prime Minister, despite the fact that he decided last week to go on a 260-mile roundtrip to see his parents and then drove an additional sixty mile round trip to a nearby castle, in order, he claims, to test his own eyesight.

The area where he was conducting his impromptu eye test was near the headquarters of a business that has now been given a government contract, but don’t read too much into that. We all know that the best way to make sure you’re okay to drive is to make sure you can see something the size of A LITERAL FUCKING CASTLE.

As I already knew that my MP was a Conservative, and a second-generation Conservative MP at that, I decided that my angry, working class leftism wouldn’t cut much ice. So I decided to approach her in friendlier terms…

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