Monday 11 September 2006

The Chancellor's Lament

Labour have proved themselves incapable of organising pretty much everything and cost us all a pretty penny in the process. Now, to really underline their ineptitude, they are making a dog's breakfast of a fairly simple operation to depose a weak and discredited has-been.

It beggars's belief that anyone should want Brown as their Prime Minister after last week's performance. Such spinelessness and cowardice and indecision. Such a complete lack of authority and belief. The Prime Minister can even leave the country for a week and still he dithers.

Brown's chances of the premiership fade with everyday that passes and you sense that he knows it. He has almost always been destined to return to Scotland empty handed. Poems and long droning bagpipe piobroch's (laments) will be written in his honour and his legend will be passed down throught the generations in the magnificent Kingdom of Fife.

Brown's most natural and effective role - that of morose, penny pinching, monastic chancellor - has been displayed so long and with such personal conviction, that no amount of smiling and cheerleading can now turn him into the People's Champion. He will undoubtedly thrash and writhe a little more but he has entered the politically treacherous waters of the Corryvreckan, and with every choreographed smile and hateful, half-hearted coup attempt, he whirls closer to his own agonising demise.

Worry not, you Scots, however. Every cloud has a silver lining. He shall have his booby prize. Holyrood becons and with it the warped joy of bearing a grudge to his dying day and making life hell for Prime Ministers to come.

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