The United Kingdom, a nation that once colonised a quarter of the globe and now struggles to colonise a biscuit, has paused to hail the legacy of Barney Frank, the pioneering openly gay US congressman who has died at the age of 86. Frank was a man who treated political decorum like a suggestion box at a dictator's palace, setting fire to it with a well-aimed zinger and a cigar that defied every public health regulation. He was the kind of politician who made colleagues sweat without even opening a window, a master of the verbal flensing knife who could reduce a stuffed-shirt opponent to a puddle of apologetic jelly with a single, perfectly timed remark. His death has prompted a chorus of tributes from across the Atlantic, where British politicians, in a rare display of unity, have all agreed that he was, in fact, quite good at his job. This may be the only thing they agree on until the next General Election, which is scheduled for approximately fifteen minutes after the next crisis.
Frank, who served in the House of Representatives for 16 terms, was a titan of financial reform and a champion of LGBTQ+ rights. He came out as gay in 1987, a time when being openly gay in Congress was roughly as common as finding a Tory MP who actually believes in climate change. His bravery in the face of bigotry was matched only by his contempt for stupidity, which he considered a far greater sin than any sexual orientation. He once told a reporter that the best way to deal with homophobes was to 'outlive them', and by God, he did. He outlived them like a tortoise outlives a series of excitable, short-lived hares.
His legacy in the UK is particularly cherished because, let's face it, we love an American who can make their own government look silly. It's our national sport, after all, and we're always happy to have an honorary player. The House of Commons, that grand old theatre of barely concealed pantomime, has issued a statement praising Frank's 'unwavering commitment to equality and his rapier wit.' In translation, this means they wish they had the guts to say what he said.
The man was a legislative powerhouse, instrumental in crafting the Dodd-Frank Wall Street Reform Act, a piece of legislation so complex it required a PhD in financial sadism to understand. He also helped repeal 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell', a policy that was about as sensible as asking a fish to politely not swim. His passing leaves a void in the political landscape that cannot be filled by mere mortals, only by holograms or perhaps a sufficiently advanced AI trained exclusively on his best insults.
So, raise a glass of something strong, perhaps a gin that tastes faintly of regret, to a man who proved that you can be both gay and more masculine than any Neanderthal in a suit. Barney Frank, you absolute legend, you have left the building. And the building is now on fire, because you forgot to stub out that cigar. Typical.
