A one-woman ovation for Big Gordie! The excitable party chair Hazel Blears - for Mrs Pepperpot was that groupie - displayed excessive devotion at Gordon Brown's taking his place on the cabinet's snappily named PSX cabinet committee. Other ministers, summoned to pore over dry statistics on spending, declined to join in. My snout of state recalled looking up as diminutive Mrs P, hands closing fast to produce yet another clap, stopped mid-air, blushing in front of a dozen glares. But Mrs P's show of adulation went unrewarded, with the disloyalty of colleagues likely to go unpunished. My gleeful informant recorded how Brown was too busy thinking of pounds and pence to even notice her job application.
Shilpamania echoes through the corridors, as men in tights pursue House inmates accused of breaking rules when the woman in a sari from the other house stopped by. The BBC must justify using its magic lantern in the Central Lobby to interview Ms Shetty. The Serjeant at Arms (Commons Big Brother) reminded broadcasters that the TV point exists for MPs, not stars. Talking of obscure backbenchers, Shetty's slippery chaperone Keith Vaz is smarting at his lack of coverage. Vazeline instructed an assistant to issue snaps of himself and Shetty after she lunched with drooling cabinet types, including Jack "The Lad" Straw and Robominister John Reid. Picture editors were curiously unexcited by Vazeline's smile.
Stepping out of the Education Department and on to Great Smith Street in Westminster, Alan "Mr Quiffy" Johnson was greeted with a breathless if unfeasibly posh "Hi" from a speeding Lycra lout. It was Druggie Dave, furiously pedalling as if a deal depended on it. Mr Quiffy noted lights, front and back, but the absence of a safety helmet - an omission no doubt sufficient to have Cameron gated in his Eton days. The class warrior lurking deep within Mr Quiffy kicked in, the Education Secretary peering for several minutes in the direction from which the blur appeared. Johnson was, I heard, hoping to spy a pursuing Lexus carrying Druggie Dave's gear. Alas, no motor hove into view, indicating either the chauffeur varies his runs to the drop-off point or Druggie Dave now carries his own stuff.
I earwigged on a chat among fellow-travellers preparing for a jolly jape in the Arctic with the Unfamous Five. The subject was which MP - Tobias Ellwood, Jenny Willott, Emily Thornberry, Ed Vaizey or Nick Clegg - they'd eat first, should bad weather maroon them on the tundra. Good taste stops me from explaining the full reasoning, but if I were Thornberry I'd take my chances and run for it.
The blame for the daftest Downing Street initiative since the Blairs used a conman to buy two Bristol flats can be pinned, I'm able to reveal, on Ben Wegg-Prosser. Oofy, Mandy's one-time little helper and now a general factotum at No 10, championed the fantastically stupid idea of inviting oddballs and reactionaries to sign petitions on the outgoing premier's website. Oofy correctly predicted it would increase traffic, though that's little comfort to the incandescent transport supremo Dougie Alexander, whose pet scheme to cut road traffic crashed into a million protest signatures. Oofy is also masterminding Blair's departure: hence the chaos.
Kevin Maguire is associate editor (politics) of the Daily Mirror
