A matter of extreme regret

Ben Brogan in his blog at the Daily Mail talks today about how the government has become 'plain unlucky.'

I think we can be a little bit more precise.

As has just been confirmed, the details of every single child in the UK – names, addresses and dates of birth – plus the banking details of all their parents and/or guardians – have been lost by the government.

These are records that affect 25 million people, approximately 7.5 million families.

It was information sent by HM Revenue and Customs to the National Audit Office on October 18. It was on two CDs and it was sent in the mail. Not registered mail. Not by courier. Not even by a mototorbike messenger. Just posted. The regular mail. That's all.

The two CDs have yet to be found. Are they languishing, unknown and unrecognised, in someone's letterbox or perhaps in some sorting office? Has someone, somewhere, already received them and are wondering what they are?

Who can say? At all events, they are lost.

The chancellor, Alistair Darling, has told the House that this was a 'huge, massive mistake,' and that 'he deeply regrets and apologises for any anxiety that may be caused'. It is, he says, 'A matter of extreme regret.'

I'll say.

What does it signify?

Let me spell it out.

Three things. Cock-up, chaos, confusion.

In short, the precise hallmarks of this government.

First Northern Rock, then 5,000 (or should that be 10,000?) illegal immigrants allowed to work as security guards, now the records of every child in the country lost. Please note that: of every child.

This has gone beyond parody.

Darling, unlike his boss, the Bottler, is plainly an honourable man. Deadly dull, quite possibly hopeless and almost certainly out of his depth. But honourable nonetheless.

So I think we can be fairly sure the Bottler will shortly be offering him up as a sacrificial victim to his spin-free, open, collegiate government of all the talents.

Put it another way, I am not sure that 'luck', plain or otherwise, has anything to do with it.

In short, another day, another disaster.

Bravo Bottler.