Coronation gifts don't come much more expensive than William Hague's £200,000 offering to David "Call me Dave" Cameron. The last thirtysomething leader lost a money-spinning News of the Screws column on the eve of enthronement, his contract chopped after saying he wanted to sit in the new Tory boy's shadow cabinet.
Inheriting a team of more men called David than women called anything, Hague's heir with hair still desired a Willy. The Screws is left scouring Labour back benches for a bitter Blairite to snipe at Big Gordie in return for a sackful of Murdoch gold. There is no shortage of candidates.
Dave's spinners turn their devious minds to the pressing problem of what to do with the chauffeur-driven Rover that comes with the job of opposition leader. The wheeze is to enjoy the perk but arrange photographs of Dave occasionally cycling to work, perpetuating the toff's unlikely man-of-the-people image. Two wheels good, four wheels better.
Chipper Big Gordie tells a Treasury bash how his son John asked, "Did you have fun today, Daddy?" after he threatened to get brutal with Tory boy George Osborne. Revellers are stunned when Big Gordie concedes that his pre-Budget report has been overshadowed. He admits that a popular Tory has finally come from behind to win. "But that's enough of Carol Thatcher," he snorts, before leading the laughter at his own joke.
Tearoom talk turns to how Boy George will be taken seriously only if his voice breaks. Following the French face transplant, a traditional northern type suggests the shrill shadow chancellor and guttural head girl Ruth Kelly undergo a voice swap. Boy George's despatch box bravado, it seems, stops on the airwaves. He refuses to go head-to-head on Today with the Chancellor's brain, Ed Balls, then on Yawnnight with Des Browne, chief bean counter. The Tory generation jump is put on hold as Ken Clarke stays up after Boy George's bedtime to perform after dark on BBC2.
Alastair Campbell out jogging on Hampstead Heath bumps into Boy George, who complains the Labour lip threatened to declare jihad on Dave as part of "Operation Destroy Cameron", an uncunning plan to expose the lack of substance (if not substances) behind the style. Ali C denies the charge, yet is a little coy about the fraternal greetings he did extend.
At last Blair and Brown are united on something - love of the iPod. Both have taken to boring colleagues with evangelical tales of how the dinky
Apple music player makes vinyl redundant. They are less forthcoming about how they are unable to download tracks. Blair, I learn, relies on his daughter Kathryn, Brown on his wife Sarah. I bet Dave does it on his own.
Kevin Maguire is associate editor (politics) of the Daily Mirror