With the Talibrown suddenly in a replay of the chaotic end of the Blair era, fingers of blame point in all directions, though most lead to wee Dougie Alexander and the Babycham Kid, Ed Balls. It's fair to say the Father of the Nation is kicking himself. My snout says the biggest snap-poll sceptic was one Gordon Brown, who, as soon as he allowed himself to be persuaded by an excitable kitchen cabinet, found wee Dougie going cold. Interesting to note fellow-traveller David Miliband swiftly disclosing his 20:20 hindsight in always opposing a November poll, Donny Osmond getting one up on the Babycham Kid in the preliminary jostling to succeed Uncle Gordie. My sympathies are with the Amicus wing of the huge Unite trade union. What will it do with two million tonnes of paper, ordered for campaign leaflets?
Sayeeda Warsi (below), made a peer to show that the Tories aren't a white conspiracy when bigwigs couldn't find her a safe seat, put on a brave face when namechecked by David "I'm a Believer" Cameron during his rehearsed spontaneity. TV cameras found her beaming with pride on the platform. Brave indeed. Two hours earlier, Dame Pauline Neville-Jones, ex-spymistress and banker to Slobo Milosevic, apologised to an IPPR fringe that Warsi'd had to pull out of a debate on multiculturalism to leg it back to Yorkshire to care for her sick child. Nothing to do with Warsi dodging tricky questions after her defence of BNP voters.
Does Ming the Merciless wear sock garters? I ask only because a colleague swears he saw a clip hanging out of the bottom of the Edwardian gentleman's trouser leg.
Distressing details emerge from researchers of an encounter during the Conservative cuddle between the mountain of rancid lard that is Indie scribbler Bruce "the Brute" Anderson and an unimpressed young lady at Blackpool's Imperial Hotel. His opening gambit - how he'd like to see more young Tories like her in the Commons, preferably in a horizontal position - wasn't one of his best.
Mrs Jon Cruddas, Anna Healy, didn't get to work for Labour's deputy leader when her husband failed to win the job. So she's gone to work for Hattie Harperson who did grab the tiara. Clearly if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
John Bercow, matchbox Tory, will not be defecting to Labour. His ambition, I hear, is to be Speaker when Gorbals Mick retires. Bercow believes by positioning himself as a man about the House, he'll pick up Labour as well as Tory support. The Lib Dem grandee Alan Beith fancies his own chances, I gather.
The posh new watering hole in the refurbished Press Gallery is to be named Moncrieff's in honour of the venerable scribbler Chris Moncrieff. One hack unlikely to be propping up the bar is, er, Chris Moncrieff. He signed the pledge after overenjoying Guinness in his younger years. His gnarled features etched on the glass will serve either as a warning . . . or an inspiration.
Kevin Maguire is associate editor (politics) of the Daily Mirror
