It was just last night that I was swapping tweets with one of the few journalists I worked with while, relatively young, who has not sold his soul and gone into PR although I see he is slipping. Back in the dotcom boom we worked for a fraudulent company called Globalnet Financial in its legitimate financial media arm UK-iNvest and Elmo claims that his interview with Amber's bent dad Tony triggered his downfall and arrest. Elmo is an honest chap and I believe him.
But I reminded my former young apprentice that we also encountered Amber who was a stockmarket spiv at the time, a director of a fraudulent internet company Monticello whose CEO ended up in the slammer. Amber operated right at the bottom end of a sordid market. Wind forward almost two decades and until last night she was, almost certainly, the worst Home Secretary ever.
Quite how this talentless and half-witted spiv ever made it to high office is something that I shall never quite work out. I know that the bar for being Home Secretary had already been set very low by her predecessor but Amber Rudd? Someone was having a laugh. And now having cocked up everything she touched she has been resigned.
In the end only my father, a closet reactionary, was saying nice things about her and those were largely sexist comparisons with Dianne Abbott and the suggestion that Amber was more competent than her Labour shadow. Even, the sole member of the Amber Rudd fan club, was forced to admit that this incompetency contest was a close call.
Windrush sunk her. Only four folks may have been deported but the Government - under a number of home secretaries, was incompetent and heartless. The left then managed to convince us all that measures Rudd and May introduced to tackle illegal immigrants were part of a nasty attack on all migrants. At that point Mrs May, who coined the phrase Nasty Party to describe the Tories of old, had to show that her party of today was not nasty and Amber was toast.
Windrush may have done for Amber but she was useless on all counts. She should have stuck to stockmarket spivvery at which she excelled. Only my father, for reasons I cannot fathom, and the wretched Mrs May, who now has one less inept colleague to throw under a bus to save her own skin, will miss her. The bus is now very much heading in the direction of Mrs May herself.