Generally speaking, people do not run away from power unless it looks like the s*** is about to hit the fan.
And people on six-figure salaries do not usually resign unless they are worried about the poo dispersal pattern.
Furthermore, those involved in politics rarely flounce out in a petulant huff because they or their mate missed out on promotion. They far prefer to move sideways, and scheme another day.
The only question, with the departures overnight of No10's most powerful advisers, is which pile of doo-doo it's going to be.
Will it be Brexit, which both Dominic Cummings and Lee Cain have their grubby paws all over? Will it be the queues at Dover, recession, increased bureaucracy caused by a No Deal, or will it be the British supplication to continued EU control in a deal so bad even skilled liars couldn't find a way to sell it?
Will it be the Northern Irish border, which the freshly-minted US president warned the PM only 3 days ago was protected by binding international law he would take a very dim view about breaking, no matter in how limited and specific a way. Or will it be the inevitable anger of the herd once it discovers how many were killed during the pandemic as a result of decisions made in Number 10.
Perhaps they are the first victims of the growing Trump sinkhole, which will suck the Chief Oompah Loompah and all his acolytes into a hell of their own making. His former strategist Steve Bannon - the US equivalent of Cummings, if you combined Nick Griffin with the 'after' pictures of heroin addiction - faces trial in May over fraud charges. Bannon praised Cummings as "a brilliant guy" only two months ago; and steadily, into the Trumpit they all tumble.
Or perhaps it's a whole new pile of dung we haven't sniffed out yet. What can possibly have made the most powerful women in Downing Street all act as one?
We can probably expect the next few weeks to involve briefings from anonymous former-insiders about how Cain and Un-Able were the voices of reason to a PM who made grave mistakes after having his ear bent by his girlfriend.
And that's the real head-scratcher. These two know where the bodies are buried. Johnson has protected them both at the expense of his own political capital, the support of his backbenchers, and even, in the case of a farewell-lockdown tour of the North, public health messaging during a pandemic.
He has let them get away with repeated u-turns, the recruitment and departure of 'weirdo' advisers, allegations of bullying, lethal misunderstandings about herd immunity, constant embarrassments, and at least one sacking that's cost the government a five-figure sum. He has overlooked the fact a superforecaster has such bad eyesight he probably shouldn't be behind the wheel, and let him use the Downing Street Rose Garden to offer up excuses that would not have convinced a magistrate to let him off the fine he deserved. He has no more forced these two out, than I've grown a tail made of diamonds overnight.
He would not have wanted them to go, unless he was hoping to attach the poop to their shirt-tails. And they would not have left, unless they were hoping to attach it to his.
Perhaps we're reading too much into it, and all Cummings and Cain really wanted to do was upset the creators of the new Spitting Image who have just spaffed ￡10,000 on a latex alien puppet with gills in its skull that, suddenly, they don't need.
(But guys, if you need a cheap chicken suit, I can point you in the right direction.)
There's lots of talk about how the PM'd had enough of the drama, that the party rose up against giving them more power, and Cummings wanted to return to his home planet by Christmas anyway. And no doubt, that's all partly true.
But the fact remains that people who've spent years trying to seize power don't just say "that was fun, I'm done now". They are addicted to power, obsessed with it, and it's the same in Whitehall as it would be in a Wigan pie shop - once you get to the top, you spend all your time crushing those who want to dislodge you.
Power is seized, and relinquished only when it looks like it'll get you in trouble. Power is taken away, usually when it looks like it'll get someone else in trouble.
In the year they've been in Downing Street, we should all have learned that whatever anonymous insiders are briefing is about as reliable as an aircraft carrier made of jam and operated by Serco.
The facts are that we are 7 weeks from a Brexit that will be awful, or bad; we're 3 days after a phone call from someone who's about to be the most powerful man in the world; and probably a year in advance of Trump himself standing trial for crimes against the ozone layer, if nothing else, and the American justice system has a habit of publishing all its documents online.
It is also vanishingly rare that people resign from jobs at the heart of Westminster, then hang around to work out their notice. While the rest of us would pocket the stapler and wheel our favourite chair out of the office under cover of darkness, what these guys will be able to snaffle are matters of national security. Why, then, do they still have a key?
Their presence is no longer welcome, yet it is also deemed necessary in the next few weeks. Whatever they are needed for, then, is something that is not productive, but reductive.
The answer is obvious. No-one else could be trusted to do the shredding, could they?