This man will NEVER be listened to again

Back on April 18, I wrote about the British epidemiological “expert”, Neil Ferguson, whose hopeless chicken entrails computer model, had led the British Government a pretty dance on dealing with the Wuhan Flu.

The article pointed out that his models had provided similarly catastrophic predictions of death and destruction over the past twenty years with things like CJD (Mad Cow) disease, Foot and Mouth, Bird Flu, and Swine Flu,

Based on all that, I made the point that:

THIS MAN MUST NEVER BE LISTENED TO AGAIN

 

Well it now turns out that this guy, the “gold standard” of disease modeling, according to the New York Times and Washington Post, never actually followed the rules he lectured everybody else about following:

On Tuesday night, we discovered that the furrowed-browed scientist, who has been at the Prime Minister’s side throughout this crisis, is in fact Austin Powers in a lab coat. He’s been having an affair with a 38-year-old married woman who travels regularly across the capital from her home in south London to spend time with him.

What.
A.
Prick.

He’s resigned now, and with any luck will never be heard from again.

Now I have to admit that the lass making the booty calls – pictured here with Ferguson –  probably is worth breaking a few rules for, and were it anybody else NOT in a position of authority I’d probably be cheering the couple on as they gave the fingers to the Police State.

But of course that’s not who he was. As the article points out, this was Professor Lockdown, the guy telling 66 million Britons they must remain in their homes to protect the NHS and save lives (sob).

I also liked this quote:

Why is it that the most zealous advocates for reining in human behavior, whether it’s in Prohibition-era America or the midst of a public health crisis, always get caught with their pants down? I’m reminded of something the late Christopher Hitchens said:

‘Whenever I hear some bigmouth in Washington or the Christian heartland banging on about the evils of sodomy or whatever, I mentally enter his name in my notebook and contentedly set my watch. Sooner rather than later, he will be discovered down on his weary and well-worn old knees in some dreary motel or latrine, with an expired Visa card, having tried to pay well over the odds to be peed upon by some Apache transvestite.’

But like the writer I’m less concerned about the pathetic double standards than about what this actually means about our society – and who rules us:

It deserves the frontpage treatment it is getting today. For Ferguson’s booty call with his married lover actually reveals a great deal about the 21st-century elites and how they view their relationship with the masses. It’s one rule for them and another for us. They can carry on enjoying sneaky freedoms because their lives and jobs are important; we can’t because we are mere little people, whose silly work lives can casually be disrupted, whose love lives can be turned upside down, and whose families can be ripped apart. The Ferguson affair provides an illuminating insight into the new elitism.

And this regarding “experts”:

The Gospel of Ferguson is really a story of the confused relationship between politicians and experts today. Instead of our elected leaders deciding what is best for the political, economic and social health of the nation, and then employing experts to ensure this vision becomes a reality, we have politicians who bow too cravenly to experts and outsource political authority to them. And so, as some commentators have pointed out, Britain currently feels like it is being run by scientists. That’s bad for politics, which becomes less democratic the more that unelected scientific experts get to make the major decisions, and it’s bad for science, which risks becoming politicised under this pressure to guide the nation. Ferguson bought into the political use of his work. He backed the lockdown. Ferociously.

Fuck them. And the horse they rode into town on.