Whenever I read about the seemingly continuous scenes of bacchanalian revelry in Downing Street over the past 18 months, one question above all keeps popping into my mind. Exactly whose job is it to come up with Downing Street’s excuses? Because whoever they are, the poor things are struggling badly. If I were Boris Johnson, I would make appointing a first-class excuse-writer my top priority.

Yesterday’s excuses were the most feeble yet. A newspaper had published a leaked photo of the Prime Minister and a large number of staff enjoying drinks in the Downing Street garden in May 2020, during the first, and strictest, lockdown.

How were they to wriggle out of this one? They couldn’t very well say it was a social event, because, at the time, all social events were banned by the Government, even ones held outdoors. But they surely couldn’t call it a staff meeting, because so many people in the photo were drinking wine, and the Prime Minister’s then-fiancée – who is not a member of staff – was present.

At any rate, no one seems to have come up with a satisfactory alternative. Because when Dominic Raab, the Justice Secretary, was sent out on to the airwaves yesterday to defend what happened, he flapped and floundered like a fish on a dock.

Gamely he attempted to argue that the event “wasn’t a social occasion, it was staff having a drink after meetings”, which was obviously very different. In any case, he said, it was all above board because the Downing Street garden “is a place of work” and the attendees were “all in suits or predominantly business attire”. As for the Prime Minister’s then-fiancée, she had merely been “popping in” – and anyway it was “a bit uncharitable” for anyone to complain, because they’d had “a busy day”.

In summary, then: the event was legitimate because it was held in a place of work, even if it might look to the untrained eye like a garden, and everyone was dressed for work, even if they were drinking wine and nibbling cheese and not noticeably doing any work.  

I’m sure Mr Raab was doing his best with whatever material he’d been given. I hope he will understand, however, if the public remain somewhat puzzled. Because this garden-based event, whatever it was, took place precisely two days after a Downing Street press conference in which a member of the public, speaking by video call, asked the Prime Minister whether it was acceptable to meet people from other households as long as you were outdoors. And the Prime Minister had replied that it wasn’t. At most, he said, you could exercise in the park with one other person from another household. Just one. That was it. Anything more than that would be dangerous, and against the rules.

Perhaps there was an exemption to these rules that the Prime Minister forgot to mention. Something like: “You can exercise outdoors with people from as many different households as you like – provided that, while exercising, you are all drinking wine, nibbling cheese, and dressed in predominantly business attire. The presence of drinks, snacks and suits will ensure that the virus is unable to spread.”

If no such exemption existed, however, I fear that we may have to contemplate an alternative explanation. Which is that, in May 2020, the people running the country all knew that it was perfectly safe to socialise outdoors with people from different households. Yet they banned the rest of us from doing it anyway, while continuing to do it themselves.

Still, whatever the truth, good luck to everyone in Downing Street in their efforts to explain away the next set of allegations, whenever they emerge.

“Contrary to what this highly misleading photograph may appear to show, the Cabinet was not doing the conga. In reality, as part of this Government’s commitment to promoting first aid training, each minister was practising the Heimlich manoeuvre on the minister in front…”

Harry potty

Organisers of real-life quidditch contests are planning to change the sport’s name, in order to “distance” themselves from JK Rowling after her comments on trans issues. I for one find this news deeply disturbing.

Until now, I simply had no idea that there were grown adults who choose to spend their free time running round a field with broomsticks between their legs, pretending to be flying wizards. Yet it seems that these people really do exist. The revelation has left me profoundly shaken.

Then again, the more time that JK Rowling’s foes spend running around a field with broomsticks between their legs while pretending to be flying wizards, the less time they will have to spend ranting on social media. So perhaps we shouldn’t discourage them.