In the upper reaches of the Treasury a particularly maladroit form of words is known as "a Holmes". This has nothing to do with the Home Office computer of the same name, but with Tony Blair's host in Portugal over the New Year holiday, the ambassador in Lisbon, John Holmes. While a senior member of the Private Office in No 10, the budding diplomat would take it upon himself to rewrite Gordon Brown's statements. His literary efforts provoked guffaws, and were invariably binned. Perhaps his secret reports to Robin Cook are an improvement.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the Chancellor's eviction from what's left of his private accommodation in Downing Street by the law-breaking judge Cherie Blair may not be the end of her territorial ambitions. The First Lady's Lebensraum policy could be extended to the state and dining rooms of No 11. She covets the space, and guests from Gordie's parties have been known to wander into the Blair household by mistake. A new coded lock has been fitted to the connecting door to prevent further "security lapses". How much more convenient if the first family took over the whole street.
John Prescott takes the business of selling the government's message seriously. Not content with penning his "give the guy a break" paean of praise for Tony Blair, he has taken to ringing up people who write whingeing letters to him and giving them a very considerable earful. He gets a big mailbag, from which each week he selects a few that really get him fired up. It doesn't take much, as we know. A chap in Sheffield who wrote to Prezza after the Paddington rail crash had the full ten-minute call right out of the blue. "It's the Deputy Prime Minister," said his astonished partner, holding the phone at a respectable distance. To be fair, his correspondent was won over. He may not have had the same success with a man he rang at 7am who had just got off the red-eye from the States.
The undisgraced Ulster Secretary Peter Mandelson now has two pagers: one for the inner circle and another for the common herd. But what's this? Oofy Cross-Dresser (sorry, Wegg-Prosser), his former press aide, though he now has no official position, has taken to answering queries to Mandy's hoi polloi pager. Maybe Bobby the dog will take to wearing one on his collar.
William Hague presumably spent most of his "skiing" holiday in the US deciding which members of his shadow cabinet have the skids under them. New Year rumours suggested that John Redwood would be the most high-profile victim of a reshuffle. The Central Office spin-doctor Amanda Platell went into overdrive denying that one, and the shadow trade secretary's pretty aide sniffed: "He's probably the safest member of the cabinet."
By the way, why is pouting Amanda so obsessed with the information that a well-known new Labour MP washes (I presume she means "bathes") only once a week? Does this person really exist?
And so to our Christmas competition about the prime ministerial author who pointed out that some said he was a non-starter but he ended up OM, PM and a Garter. The answer is Clement Attlee. I promised a copy of J R Seatrobe's book Oh! Prime Minister to the first correct opened entry. Michael Gove, the Times columnist and faithful biographer of Michael Portillo (except he didn't get the gay bits) tried to jump the gun by telephoning on the day of publication to claim his prize. His forwardness rules him out.
So the book will go to Ben Ross, of Burgess Hill, West Sussex. I was tempted to break the rules and give it to Allan Smart, of Sedgefield, Co Durham, who sent a correct reply on a pen-and-ink postcard portrait of Blair's Anglican parish church, which is indeed (as this column pointed out) more "churchy" than its RC rival, where Cherie wanted the Prime Minister to give his "people's princess" oration after Diana's death. A second prize must be found. I have a drawerful.
The writer is chief political commentator for the "Mirror"
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