As John Gummer once said, ‘the weak are a long time in politics.’ And the last few days have been spectacularly intriguing. First the mystery of John Bercow. Just what is he playing at? I rather like John in an odd sort of way and once set him up for a shag when I was a journalist. I was having a few drinks in the press bar (in those glorious days of journalists consuming alcohol rather than bloody skinny lattes) when a rather pretty friend remarked to me that she rather fancied him but wasn’t quite sure which side he batted on. So I offered to play Cupid. I trotted down to the Strangers Bar, found young Bercow and suggested that if he wasn’t gay a pretty girl (I’ll call her Chlamydia to save her blushes) was up for a bit of jigga jigga. He smiled and I gave him her number. I never enquired as to what happened. Come to think of it I did the same for Gordon Brown with a young journo who had the hots for him. He smiled and again I never bothered to find out if anything happened. It’s hard to think of those two as sex Gods even then. But enough of my Parliamentary pimping. Let’s try and work out why Bercow gave his extraordinary outburst about Trump. It must have been carefully planned as our Speaker never does anything without deliberation. One theory is that this was a ruse to piss off theTories (success) and smarm up to Labour and the SNP (yay) to secure another glorious term of office. I doubt it, particularly as Number 10 side stepped giving him the merest flicker of confidence. I suspect that Bercow is just bored and wants to make a spectacular exit earlier than we thought. After all there is no way he would want to be on the guest list for the State Banquet for Trump that Bercow would be obliged to attend. Doing an Abbott would be unthinkable. So my guess is that he will jump ship before the Donald has a white knuckled ride down the steps of Hair Force One.
And then there is the ridiculous rumour that Corbyn will step down in 2019 and make way for Clive Lewis. Why Lewis is seen a leadership contender is beyond sentient thought. His only claim is that he was once a television reporter for BBC Norwich. The Alan Partridge of the backbenches. But for Labour it would be deserting the Titanic for the Marie Celeste. Lewis jumped ship because he is thoroughly fed up by being undermined by the poisonous Shameless Milne. So it’s business as usual.
It was interesting to read that Diane Abbott, who has just returned from a miraculous cure from Lourdes, told David Davis, a dead ringer for Judge Deed, to fuck off after he offered her a smacker after the Brexit vote. She has more form than Shergar for this. When she was first elected she told Terry Wogan that she might consider pairing with a Tory. As quick as a flasher’s mac I sent her a personal photo and offered my hand in a beautiful partnership. Sadly, it came back with ‘fuck off’ scrawled across my beaming visage. I was heart broken.
