I began to despair back in the dog days of August. Could there ever be enjoyment found in writing of politics again? Was it just a long grind ahead of us reporting that the Coalition was doing nothing very much and Labour were consumed by inner hatred?
Salivation (sic) is ahead of me â for this morning we have Gordon Brown posing as Edward the Confessor, and Dianne Abbott as Henry the Eighth. The day is shaping up nicely.
Let us drool over Gordon first in superb âI saved the worldâ mode. Gordon feels much âwoundedâ â as only a King can â by Tony Blairâs memoires. He hasnât been able, as Tony was, to anoint his own successor without benefit of degrading competitive tender.
Appearance is everything to our Gordon though, substance matters little, and so he has been in negotiations â how demeaning! â with the leadership campaign from his eyrie in Kirkcaldy, and is planning to travel down to Manchester on Saturday to bestow the crown upon his successor.
Hopefully the timing will work out for the news channels, and he can garble a few words of his excellence before he is seen to hand over the baton of rolled up Final Reminders to the new keeper of the Labour overdraft.
Perish the thought that the faithful might imagine they had chosen the new successor.
Dianne is in even finer form. For she has pledged that âwhen I am leaderâ of the Labour Party, she will overthrow centuries of the marriage between Church and State, and âas Leader of the Partyâ will:
âIn particular, one of the first things that I will do is introduce genuine gay marriage.â
Never mind the requirement to win an election first, even command a majority, or win the agreement of the Bishops in the House of Lords. Nope, as mere Leader of the defunct Labour Party, Dianne will wave her regal wand and command the newly formed Church of Abbott to henceforth conduct marriages between lovers of the same sex.