A sideways look at life in the Westminster Village

Word reaches of a hysterical Cherie Blair venting her spleen about the man she believes has bullied her husband out of his job. A mini-mole was in the audience when the Blair biographer and BBC gob-on-a-stick Jon Sopel did a turn at a north London school. The presenter was asked if the Blair-Brown rivalry is real. Real? I'll give you real! Sopel entertainingly recounted a tale of a dinner he attended, when based in Paris, with Cherie, her hairdresser and her PA. Mrs B hijacked the conversation to deliver a two-hour tirade on how she hated the Chancellor, pausing only to order her food. John Major graciously left a bottle of chilled champagne in No 10 for Tony Blair, but Big Gordie would be well advised not to eat anything found in the fridge, particularly if it looks home-made.

Knock, Knock. Who's there? Stephen. Stephen who? Stephen Twigg. Michael Portillo's nemesis has developed a previously undetected interest in Liverpool, paying weekend visits there. Twiggy, who never came to terms with losing Enfield in 2005 and has given up hope of succeeding the Barking fairy godmother M'Lady Hodge, is taking a keen interest in the city's West Derby seat. "Serbian Bob" Wareing may be fighting deselection, but vultures are already circling. Twiggy isn't alone in banging on the doors of local party members. The youthful TV historian Tristram Hunt also fancies becoming a Scouse MP.

Theatrical tactics by "Mad Mike" Meacher to persuade punters to take his leadership prospects seriously. A glossy rah-rah brochure carries the endorsement "a credible candidacy" from a Nick Robinson, who works for the BBC. That he thinks Big Gordie would easily win any contest must have slipped off the page. If I were Robinson, a chap conscious of his elevated status at Westminster, I'd sue - Mad Mike has demoted him from political editor to chief political correspondent.

Nursing the canvasser's wound, a cut hand, is the battleship Ian "Big Mac" McCartney. The diminutive trade minister caught his mitt in a letter box but admits the injury could have been much worse. He retrieved the trapped digits just before a snarling dog reached the door. A few days later a constituent stopped Big Mac in the street with a problem. The address sounded familiar. "Do you have a small letter box and a large Alsatian?" inquired Big Mac. Indeed, he did. The MP felt impelled to take up the case. After all, it was election time.

Brrng, brrng . . . "Oh, yawn." "Boris?" "Ha, yawn." "Radio 4 here." "Crikey, yawn." "You OK?" "Yeah, yawn." "Ready for the BBC interview?" "Er, yawn." "About Gordon Brown?" "Hmm, ahhhh, errrrm, yawn." "Live, now?" "Bbbb, yawn, I fell asleep, yawn, on the garden hammock, yawn." "Ah!" "Ready, yawn, put me on."

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

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