I know he has a tough job, and has the nickname "Door Matt", but to see him there in that position was a shock, I can tell you.
It was just after the first lockdown, when people could start to mix again in small numbers, and my girlfriend and I decided that we had missed going to fetish clubs. We sometimes frequent a small private club in Soho, so we dressed for the occasion, she in her fishnet dress, stilettos, dog collar and leash, while I wore my leather gimp mask and rubber shorts and off we went.
I am not saying we're exhibitionists, but we didn't want to risk public transport or a cab, so we just strode boldly through the West End attracting some wry comments. It was strangely liberating being out and about again.
Anyway, when we arrived, there was a small number of patrons present, socially distanced of course, although it was hard to observe that requirement as some of those young ladies do warrant some rather close personal attention.
It wasn't long before my girlfriend drew my attention to him, and said, "don't I know that bloke from somewhere?" He was stripped to the waist, wearing his favourite pink tie and leather chaps, and was strapped to a crucifix with his bare backside plainly on view. She couldn't believe it when I told her it was none other than the Secretary of State for Health, Matt Hancock!
It was then that a well-built stern-faced leather bikini-clad woman stepped forward holding a whip, and began to lash his firm, white buttocks, which were soon covered in red weals. Throughout the beating, the Secretary of State kept shouting:
"Yes, prime minister, yes. I failed on PPE, NHS workers died along with 65,000 members of the public because you locked down late, but it was all my fault and I promise to take the blame for Dido's shitty track and trace system. Harder, prime minister, I deserve it!"
My girlfriend took rather a shine to Mr Hancock, pitying him for being Johnson's whipping boy in more ways than one, and she introduced herself to him when he was freed. She asked me discreetly if we could take him home so that she could "attend to his wounds". Well, I don't usually refuse my girl anything, and he spent the night at our home, where she entertained us both to the very best of her abilities, I promise you.
After that, I am expecting a quite substantial contract in the near future for consultancy services or whatever. Of course, it's not nepotism or favouritism, but it sometimes does help to have photos.