Barely a second passes these days without that nutty lot in the Houses of Parliament cooking up more funny skits, cracking one-liners and other assorted "I don't believe it moments" so ludicrous it's like an episode of The Thick of It. It's so much like the Thick of It that right now you're probably tweeting "This is like an episode of The Thick of It!" or "This is beyond the The Thick of It now!" or "Armando Iannucci has GOT to bring back The Thick of It after this!" until your thumbs are worn down to little bloody nubs and you start quoting the tweets to Siri.
That said, Monday's episode of Whose Country Is It Anyway? was my favourite so far, because it was the first episode to feature a musical number. It was the debut performance of what will surely go down as one of the defining pieces of music of the 21st century. A piece of music that captures the flippancy of the political elite and the vanity of their optimism across a curt three seconds. I'm talking, of course, about "Doo Doo, Doo Doo" by David Cameron.
In case you missed it, on Monday afternoon, David Cameron announced that since Theresa May was the only woman left standing for the leadership of the Conservative party and the job of prime minister, he was going to do nothing to stand in her way and would formally resign on Wednesday evening, handing her the keys to Number 10. David Cameron then thanked the press, turned back to his house and walked inside. But silly David Cameron had left his microphone on, then silly David Cameron did this.
He sang a little song.
It was a cute sort of "oopsy-daisy-hows-your-father-evenin-guvnor-fucked-yer-country" ditty. A jolly funeral march for the state of the nation. In three seconds it managed to be mournful, naive, defeated, optimistic, ignorant, relieved, upbeat, downbeat depressing, despondent, annoying, upsetting, and totally beyond comprehension. It's the sound of summer 2k16.
"Doo Doo, Doo Doo" is clearly a tune of relief. Had Britain voted to remain in the EU we might have expected more of a "Bam Bam Baaaaam" style composition—but rather we got a slightly damp "onwards and upwards" conciliatory fanfare. It's the tune your dad hums on the journey between the garage on the front door, a melody for Vodafone employees as they wait for the system to buffer to see if you're due for an upgrade. It's the tune uncomfortable single men sing sitting in the beds of their one bedroom new-build flats so they can't hear the couple next door having sex. It's a tune normally accompanied by the percussion of tapping fingers on a surface or the soft hiss of a kettle about to boil. It's a tune that says, "oh well... it'll soon be over... we can watch Pointless later."
To have composed "Doo Doo, Doo Doo" in the spontaneous manner that he did (that is assuming of course that it was spontaneous and "Doo Doo, Doo Doo" isn't something David Cameron has been workshopping during the past month, or a track he's been "sitting on for years but finally felt right to release") the prime minister must have felt an a sudden surge of genuine giddy energy at the prospect of handing his toxic current job onto another poor fucker to sort. Think about it, the only times you ever produce a small, unmanageable hum are when a rush of unexpected glee or urine passes through your body. Your takeaway's just arrived! Your girlfriend's back from her work trip! You're finally at a service station after drinking two bottles of 7Up! You don't have to do running the country anymore! "Doo Doo, Doo Doo" is the sound of a man staring at a house on fire, clicking his heels together and strolling off in the opposite direction.
In that way, "Doo Doo, Doo Doo" is more than a tune. It's a mantra. An ideology. A plan. Let's face it, everything is unravelling very quickly at the moment. The choices for prime minister have been so unappealing it's made us miss George Osborne, Jeremy Corbyn is to the PLP what Chris Evans is to Top Gear fans, every major Brexiteer has suddenly taken it upon themselves to buy a timeshare in Florida, racial hate crimes are up, the value of the pound has tanked, unemployment is likely to rise as the number of jobs plummets with our exit from the European Union.
But that didn't get ol' DC down. Know why? Because he had "Doo Doo, Doo Doo". It's the ultimate get-out. The perfect exit strategy. The shirker's anthem. Just turn around, bob your head and with a "Doo Doo, Doo Doo" you'll be right as rain. Partner walked in on you in bed with somebody else? Jump out the sheets, slip on your slippers and a "Doo Doo, Doo Doo". Dragged the front of your Ford Mondeo across the brittle neck of next door's cat? Lock the car, spin the keys and "Doo Doo, Doo Doo". How can anyone resent total abandonment when it sounds this chipper?
"Doo Doo, Doo Doo" is the I Don't Give A Fuck anthem the most fucked generation in decades deserves. In a time where all hope is lost, we must turn to the tune that says "see you later" to instability, and "au revoir" to responsibility. Let's get "Doo Doo, Doo Doo" to number one. Make it your ringtone, your alarm, your text tone, your first dance and the last thing they play as they lower your tired corpse into the ground. Let this be David Cameron's legacy, a melody that sums up the nation he built. A tune that looks despair in the face and says "lol sorry I wasn't listening."
Follow Angus on Twitter
Look back at the career of David Cameron on VICE:
A Eulogy for David Cameron's Career
The Illustrated Life and Death of David Cameron
Which Nickname Should David Cameron Be Remembered By?