Druggie Dave is looking for an Alastair Campbell and prepared to pay £140K

Miss Whiplash, the vengeful Labour dominatrix Jacqui Smith, blocked the return to service of one of the Labour Eight behind last September's coup against the Dear Leader. Peter Hain, a wannabe wearer of the deputy's tiara, had his wrist slapped for attempting to appoint the master tactician Mark Tami to lug his bags. The Chief Whip declared all the assassins, led by former defence minister Osama bin Watson, must wait until Tony Blair is history before they become eligible for duty. Whether Miss Whiplash will survive in her own post when Big Gordie takes over is a matter of some speculation, with the Noes currently having it.

The waiting is over for the Mouth of the Trent, Robert Flello. The Stoke Siren was rewarded for talking out a private member's bill to protect exploited agency workers, securing the job (unpaid) of carrier of Mrs Pepperpot's handbag. Flello follows Stephen Pound as PPS to Labour chair-for-a-little-bit-longer Hazel Blears after the Ealing Wit resigned over Trident. Quite how Flello's presence will further Pepperpot's dream of the deputy's tiara is puzzling MPs, particularly the 120 who stayed overnight in London to back the bill, only to be thwarted by the Mouth of the Trent.

Brrng, brrng. On the phone was my Euromole with reports on that quitter not a fighter, the Prince of Darkness over the water. It seems Peter Mandelson is sulking after he publicly threw away his career when a BBC bod on The World at One asked him about your correspondent's disclosure, in this very column last week, of the Brownites' debate about what to do with him when Big Gordie enters No 10. Petulant Pete already feels a silly Mandy, it transpires, regretting the resignation outburst. No member of his inner circle knew of his intention to alight the Brussels gravy train in 2009 - probably including Petulant Pete himself - until he opened his mouth and the quitter's words just tumbled out of the wireless.

Brrng, brrng. It was that phone again, this time a Labour barrack-room lawyer with more bad news for the Prince of Darkness over the water. Petulant Pete's little wheeze of accepting a peerage in his protector's resignation honours list may encounter a constitutional hurdle. According to my snout with an anorak's knowledge of the Eurocracy, long gone are the days when Mad Maggie could sit Lord Cockfield on the Brussels gravy train. Now commissioners must serve only one master and cannot sit in a parliament. Hence Mandy's abandonment of Hartlepool, and hence why becoming Lord Mandy of Notting Hell while continuing to pick up 160K for another couple of years is tricky. Incidentally, I've heard three Labour MPs argue that Petulant Pete's peerage would be the best ever argument for an elected second chamber.

A troublemaker stopped me in the corridor to point out that the Tories' authentic Colonel Blimp, Patrick "Black Bastards" Mercer, represents a constituency which, as an anagram, perfectly encapsulates the esteem in which he is held in Druggie Dave's camp. Newark? Think about it: wan . . .

The spin in Tory circles is that Druggie Dave is looking for an Alastair Campbell and prepared to pay £140K. The price of power has just gone up.

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

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