Night of the Long Knives

So after all that blather and blither about how he wasn't going to resign, and wasn't going to be sacked, Clarke's parked. Verily, Lord Wilson, a week is a long time in politics. But it's also one of those well, duh moments, and you have to wonder at the workings of the minds behind all the denials. Did they think we wouldn't notice or something?

I think they must lead life at such a pace that their internal clocks are telling them that Clarke's been hanging on now for six months or so, and that's a decent interval, so he can be quietly shuffled aside. To these people, the middle of April seems like some time before Christmas.

They live their lives on paper don't they, not remotely connected to what we laughingly call the real world. They look at focus group reports, site statistics, opinion polls, newspaper editorials. Not once do they raise their heads curiously in the air and sniff the bullshit they're surrounded by.

Weird Tony, the gimlet-eyed Prime Ministrone, is - like Mrs T before him - stacking up some heavyweight ex-ministers on the back benches behind him. Robin Cook is conveniently dead though.

What I want to know is this. The Tories, when they get into a backstabbing frenzy, have challenges to the leadership and then elections. Can't someone in the Labour Party challenge El Presidente? Isn't there some stalking horse waiting in the wings, ready to bring him down? Someone with some backbone, some principles?

Thought not.