From the office of Dominic Raab, foreign secretary for the time being.
Should I have made one quick phone call which might have helped translators evacuate Afghanistan? We’ll never know. But let me explain why I was too snowed under to do it.
First of all, making a phone call isn’t as simple as pressing some buttons and saying words into a mouthpiece. You’ve got to think about what you’re going to say, psych yourself up, and if you’re on a mobile you’ve got to find some good reception. No easy feat, I’ll think you’ll agree.
Critics will say it would have taken two minutes to pick up the blower and bark some instructions, but there simply wasn’t room in my packed itinerary of waking up late, strolling along the beach, and topping up my suntan.
Also I was in a holiday mindset, which would have impaired my judgement. There’s a real chance I might have phoned up the Foreign Office and mistaken them for the room service of the Cretan five-star resort I was staying at.
Could you imagine if I’d rung them and asked for another boiled lobster to be brought out to me as I dipped my toes into the cool, refreshing waters of the Mediterranean? They’d probably think it was coded permission to launch nukes. So if anything it’s fortunate I did absolutely f**king nothing.
Look, if I’d done one iota of work on my holiday then it would have set a precedent. Do you want to be on your boss’s beck and call while you’re trying to kick back in your shitty holiday cottage? Didn’t think so. So stop complaining.
