While the bombs fall on Afghanistan, unnoticed dirty work is afoot in Gibraltar. The Foreign Office is secretly cooking up a deal with Madrid for the future of the Rock, and Jack Straw is too busy reliving the 1930s to bother with the issue. So it falls to his deputy Peter Hain to soothe the feathers of the embattled Gibs, who fear a sell-out on sovereignty.

What Hain cannot tell them is that the Americans want Gibraltar to stay British, but they only care about the sovereign base area, and particularly the "Z berths" used by Nato nuclear submarines. What is more, the base is critical to GCHQ's coverage of the Mediterranean and the Middle East, working with its big station on Cyprus. So poor old Peter is forced back on platitudes about patriotism, when the real arguments are strategic. This is plainly one for both the defence and foreign affairs select committees. Will they have the nerve to investigate?

Anji Hunter had a very good run at Downing Street as the Prime Minister's third-closest confidant (after Alastair and Mandy), and is presumed to have doubled her £120,000 salary by moving to BP as director of communications. Yet on election night in 1997, she turned up at the Grosvenor House Hotel practically in tears because the Great Helmsman had not given her a job. The culprit, it seems, was Cherie Booth, who didn't want Anji at Blair's side in No 10. Hunter was later discovered unhappy as a waif on the steps of Downing Street, not having been invited to the celebratory dinner. Cherie quickly relented, however, and Anji's fortune was made.

Matthew Parris confides that after quitting the Times as its parliamentary sketch writer, he intends to write his autobiography. This should make a delicious read, if he has the nerve to dish the dirt. Meanwhile, Julia Langdon, biographer of Mo Mowlam, has run out of women to write about and has begun a book about Gordon Brown, the sexy Chancellor. She is adamant that No 10 is not trying to write the script, and I believe her.

The Westminster lobby's Top 17 Totty game allows bored (male) political hacks on the late shift to draw up a list of their most attractive (female) colleagues. It is named after Derek Draper's boast that there were only 17 people of importance in the Blair government, and he knew them all intimately. Now one of the comely gels has complained to the chairperson of the lobby, alleging sexual harassment. There is talk of legal advice. Don't these children know there's a war on?

Lord (Charlie) Falconer, the Dome minister, likes to round off a good meal with a digestif. So he had no hesitation when asked if he would like a brandy after lunch at the Cinnamon Club, a pricey new curry house virtually next door to Gordon Brown's flat in Great Smith Street. His host was happy to oblige, but blanched at the cost: £22 for a single glass. Oh, come on, Falconer's worth every penny. Any minister who apologises twice for the Dome can't be all bad.

Ken Livingstone has a hairy back. Official, from my snout who uses the same gym at 4 Millbank. On the morning of one Tube strike, Readies Ken was luxuriating in the jacuzzi. Fellow bathers thought he should be in his office sorting out London's transport problems.

L ast week, I wrote that David Blunkett tried to charge a tabloid interviewer £20 for his new book. The hack pretended to slap a note on the desk, but didn't leave one. The Home Secretary says the story is completely untrue. I apologise profusely. Here is the truth. Brian Reade of the Mirror interviewed Blunkers before the 1997 election about his autobiography. Blunkett demanded £15 for a copy (profits to Guide Dogs for the Blind). When Reade failed to leave the money, Blunkett wrote asking for it. Reade sent a cheque.

You can see how this lovely little tale has grown in the telling. And why Home Office notepaper carries the slogan "Building a safe, just and tolerant society".

Paul Routledge is chief political commentator for the Mirror

Post your comment

Please note: you will need to login or register before you can comment on the website