Delphie Bond explores how David Cameron has been reflecting upon recent political events in his new memoir ‘For the Record’, despite sheltering under the umbrella of his resignation.
As the UK viciously tumbles down a vortex of indecision, right wing elitism and catastrophic division – all seemingly in the name of Brexit – what makes things even more interesting is that the great engineer of this turbulent storm seems to be avoiding the torrential rain.
The Times, whose review of the book in comparison to The Guardian’s is uncomfortably nice, describes Cameron as exuding “an overriding characteristic of self-confidence”. However, what really prevails is a weak attempt to appear confident; it appears throughout the book that he is in fact in a dialogue with himself, not the reader. His dry humour makes the read a less agonising one, but let this not distract us; David Cameron’s name in the history books will for eternity read next to the destroying force that is Brexit.
Times like this call for rebellion. Whilst we’ve been reluctantly tiptoeing in the direction of October 31st and marching for an extension of Article 50, one Oli Beale took to London book shop Foyle’s in a silent protest. Malevolent, conspicuous and sly, Beale epitomised Cameron but with the precision and honesty Cameron could never quite match. Utilising the power of words, Oli Beale’s protest took the form of replacing the covers of For the Record for ones which look uncannily similar to the blind eye of the worker, but to the deciphering, inquisitive customer, read a whole lot different.
As the tyrannical act gained gravitas on Twitter, arguably more than Cameron’s memoir has itself (Waterstones are already offering it for a considerable 50% off), it became clear that Beale had encapsulated the buffoon on the cover more concisely than the 800 words inside. The subtleties of the cover are what perhaps make it such a gem, as in Beale’s version a fake Kiss FM review states: ‘Mesmerising and incoherent, like an Anusol for the mind’. The blurb splendidly reads: ‘This isn’t so much a book, but a blueprint on how to destroy the country’, which reads on from ‘Women wanted him, men wanted to be him and animals feared him’.
This hilarious act of protest may not have the same grandeur and governmental impact that the People’s March or other protests have, but it reminds us that we have not lost our humour. These Eton and Oxbridge morphed creatures, with ‘small hands’ and ‘outrageously, bawdy limericks’, may be wrecking our country whilst reclining in Notting Hill homes, but the people are not weathered by the rain. We have been drenched in lies, our feet are soggy from storms of division, and no one trusts the weather man. However, we are ready to dance in the rain with democracy. Give us the shelter that is a People’s Vote or a general election, let us reverse this monsoon Cameron started, before the drains begin to block and we cannot tread the water anymore.
Image Credit: BBC One