Brownites ready to celebrate, Gordie eats chips, while shadowy Tory thwarts spooks

Blairites are preparing to pass themselves off as lifelong Brownites: ambitious young suits ready to declare, "The premier is dead, long live the premier!" Ex-MP Stephen "Gissa Seat" Twigg's transition is under way, the wannabe pictured thrice alongside his new hero Big Gordie in the anniversary issue of Progress, the new Labour Pravda. But Twiggy's dream of returning to Westminster in the shoes of his Barking mentor Margaret "M'Lady" Hodge is dashed. Local councillors have warned that anyone fraternising with M'Lady since her gift of a gaffe to the BNP is committing political hara-kiri.

There is seemingly not a single no-go area for vote-hungry Big Gordie as political ascension day approaches. Labour's clogged artery brigade choked on their chips when the Chancellor appeared at a table, tray in hands, in Strangers' Cafeteria. The eatery is known as School Dinners by the lumpen wing. A veteran of 20 years' service to fried potatoes cannot recall the Chancellor munching with the masses; he hopes that lasagne with chips will now replace truffle oil vinaigrette as Labour's signature dish. Fat chance.

The Tory ex-army officer Patrick Mercer, shadow homeland security minister without a minister to shadow, is either paranoid or on to something. Colleagues report that the former Sherwood Forester, commended for bravery during tours of Northern Ireland where he rubbed shoulders with intelligence types, turns off his mobile during meetings instead of turning it to silent. Mercer fears portable telephones may be used to bug owners. It's unclear who Mercer fears most: spooks or Citizen Dave.

Ruffled ermine over the uprooting of the food minister Baron "Willy" Bach, who was told he would be culled in the reshuffle to lower the government's average age. Bach's reply that he's yet to qualify for a bus pass and, at 59, is one of the youngsters in the House of Cronies, triggered throat-clearing and a muffled groan in No 10 before the executioner's axe fell. Happy Birthday to Bach's successor, Lord Rooker. He's 65 this month.

Young Minger Nick Clegg is unlikely to operate his mobile as a loud hailer again after I recounted overhearing his far from complimentary assessment of Ming the Mediocre. My only regret is that the eavesdropping was cut short by bad luck: a Virgin train pulled into the station, early. Can you believe that?

A BBC invitation to discuss divorce laws with the Grauniad "writer" Norman Johnson is swiftly withdrawn when I point out that the Saturday column is a spoof, reputedly penned by Catherine Bennett. I console the TV researcher with the knowledge that the paper's last satirical foray, Bel Littlejohn, at least had the advantage of being funny.

Kevin Maguire is associate editor (politics) of the Daily Mirror

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