How things change, part one. Not so long ago, Radio 4’s Today programme was the government’s “Public Enemy No 1”. A media centre of disinformation that needed to be boycotted – preferably shut down completely – because it couldn’t be trusted to allow ministers to tell the first lie that came into their head without some kind of follow-up question or interruption. Since the coronavirus outbreak, Team Boris has had to reconsider its refusal to send ministers on the programme. Even Classic Dom has had to concede that not talking to one of the country’s main outlets is not a good look during a national emergency and has been reluctantly letting ministers out in the wild from time to time. Not that the wild is particularly wild. More like a safari park, as the presenters are so thrilled ministers are no longer an endangered species that they now frequently forget to challenge them. The government can literally send out someone as hopeless as Thérèse Coffey on Today and be fairly sure it won’t come unstuck. How things change, part two. Before Christmas, Piers Morgan was the bete noire of every bleeding-heart liberal. The gobshite Good Morning Britain presenter who shouted down any remainers complaining about the government’s absence of any credible Brexit plan as unpatriotic remoaners. Just suck it up, losers. OK, so Boris Johnson would rather hide in the fridge than talk to Morgan, but a lot of us must have had days like that. Now, though, Morgan has become the voice of a country that is increasingly angry and confused about the way the government has so badly mismanaged the coronavirus pandemic. The everyman who isn’t afraid to use what power he has to call out bullshit and incompetence for what it is. A kind of national group therapy for all those of us who feel powerless. What he does is not so much interview junior ministers – the government has wisely and determinedly kept all its big guns away from Morgan; ITV could clean up with Morgan v Priti Patel on pay-per-view – as harangue and shout at them with all the pent-up fury of someone who doesn’t understand why those in power aren’t more bothered that 1,000 additional people have died in the previous 24 hours. The best that any minister can hope for is to survive the barrage without post-traumatic stress disorder. The luckless Oliver Dowden, the culture secretary, was Monday morning’s government sacrificial lamb for the media round. Luckless, because Dowden was never groomed for a cabinet post. He was the perpetual Number Three. A deputy senior prefect at school. The most junior of ministers in government who could barely be trusted to carry a file from one end of Whitehall to the other. A man so dull and ineffective that even his shadow has tried to disown him. That he is now in the cabinet speaks more of the quality of the others than any talents Dowden has so far kept well-hidden.
Dowden warmed up with what he hoped would be an easy gig on BBC Breakfast with the nice-but-dim Dan Walker, the sports reporter turned chat show host whose questions generally make Graham Norton sound like Andrew Neil. Instead, he got the much sharper Louise Minchin, who rattled off a whole load of questions on the absent personal protective equipment and the failure of Johnson to bother to turn up to five Cobra meetings, without making the slightest pretence of engaging with the answers. Because she, like us, knew he didn’t have any. “Thank you, Olivia,” she said, concluding the interview. That’s how little impression Dowden had made on her. She couldn’t even remember his name. Or if he identified as a man or a woman. Over on Good Morning Britain, after a few warm-up punches from Susanna Reid – all of which took their toll – Morgan went in for the kill. First he asked how many NHS and care workers had died. “43,” Dowden said confidently. Actually it was 80, said Morgan, illustrating his assertion by holding up a double-page spread from a morning paper that clearly the minister hadn’t been bothered to read. Hell, it was early and it wasn’t like he had a serious job where it was his business to know the news. OK, Morgan continued. How many care home residents had died? “217,” Dowden replied. Er ... how about 7,500? Morgan said incredulously. Dowden looked like he might burst into tears. That was only just for starters though. Dowden was pummelled and kicked with questions on everything from the government’s insistence it had been brilliantly prepared for the pandemic, to its selective use of scientific data and potentially life-threatening decision to allow the Cheltenham festival to go ahead on 16-19 March. Dowden’s mouth merely opened and closed noiselessly. Every time he tried to come up with some half-truth or excuse, Morgan slammed him back on the ropes. We learned nothing, but then Dowden knows nothing. But it was cracking entertainment. Moments later, Dowden went on the Today programme for some light rest and recuperation before getting another going over from Nick Ferrari, another interviewer who doesn’t take prisoners, on LBC radio. By the end, Dowden could barely remember his own name. Before going back to hide under the duvet, he made one last call to No 10. “Never again,” he begged. “Please let me do the 5pm press conference instead. That’s a complete doddle compared to this.” Raab just laughed and put down the phone. Meanwhile, Dowden went on a fruitless search for what was left of his self-worth.