Gerry Sutcliffe, the Labour whip and captain of the Commons football team, was mysteriously paged during the mayoralty fix by Jim Fitzpatrick MP, chairman of the London Labour Party. "Can't play today," the message ran. "Mayor shoplifting." Panic coursed through the ranks until he realised it should have read "shortlisting". This farcical interlude chimed well with the general air of chaos.
Only Neil Kinnock seems determined to take the business seriously. In another of those "personal" letters to all 69,000 members in the capital, Kinnock commends Frank Dobson, and excoriates Ken Livingstone as yesterday's man. "It's the same old Ken: make unrealistic demands and uncosted promises and when reality prevails blame everyone else for lacking a spirit of adventure," Neil insists. But this mailshot alone is costing the Dobson campaign £15,000. Where is the money coming from? Who are the rich folk behind this game?
Media concentration on the capital fix has all but obscured new Labour scandals in its council heartIands. Not for long. Yorkshire Television is about to sign contracts for a drama-documentary on Donnygate, the corruption saga that has gripped Labour-dominated Doncaster for the past two years. So far, 31 arrests have been made, 19 of them councillors. Convictions arrive more regularly than the King's Cross express. YTV's expose will be in the manner of the controversial HilIsborough football disaster programme. Provisional title? Brass Necked!
The writer is Ron Rose, bosom pal of Tony Blair's rumbustious father-in-law, Tony Booth. He exposed Donnygate in a series of desktop satire-sheets that upset the local party hierarchy. Threatened with expulsion, he promised to take the party to court - and call the PM and Mo Mowlam as witnesses. The threat of disciplinary action was dropped, but Rose was rejected as a party candidate for the council elections. Alas, six of the 21 who were selected have since come to the notice of m'learned friends.
In the wake of the "tickets for the boys" scandal, First Minister Donald Dewar banned MSPs from the first leg of the Scotland-England game, with the exception of his Scottish sports minister, Rhona Brankin, who evidently doesn't know a goal from a gaol. But that didn't stop Gordon Brown from attending, along with his sidekick Charlie Whelan, who pretended not to recognise Ulrika Jonsson when she welcomed him to Glasgow airport with a kiss. The fans were in no doubt. "Who's that ugly bastard she's snogging?" they growled. And why was the Hampden roar so muted? Because the ground was full of Unison numpties who got their tickets by insider dealing.
The undisgraced Secretary of State for Northern Ireland has let his slip show again. At a London lunch for the Ireland Fund in Great Britain, the photographers invited Peter Mandelson outside the banqueting room for a picture. He was only too happy to oblige, but fished in his pocket for a slightly distressed British Legion poppy before posing for the cameras. Presumably he didn't wear it during the meal for fear of offending republican feelings. One also hears that Mandy is moving sinuously into the old Ulster family social set, the Terence O'Neill country-house world. He must feel at home there.
Lord Hollick has fallen out with Tony Blair, according to highly placed inmates of the black-glass Lubyanka that houses Express Newspapers. One wonders what they ever saw in each other, except for all that power and money. When I was at Nottingham University, young Clive was a snot-nosed sociology student there, hankering after a seat at the socialist hearties' table in the buttery. He was more interested in the dramatic society than cash in those days. Perhaps becoming mega- rich was a compensation for not landing the parts.
The writer is chief political commentator for the "Mirror"
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