Tears For Blears

Hazel Blears, the traitorous Red Dwarf, has admitted cruelty in her recent comments about Gordon Brown. But apparently, she didn't mean to sabotage his struggle to stay in office. She has grovellingly apologised for the timing of her resignation - on the eve of the European elections.

She concedes too, that she shouldn't really have worn a brooch bearing the slogan 'Rocking the Boat' during her Day of Reprisal. 'The effect on the party is something I will regret forever,' she now claims tearfully.

Of course, she gives reasons for her behaviour. These are to do with other people.

Pressure, she says, was put on her by the Daily Telegraph. Er, well, a big fat £13,000 payback for expenses improperly claimed suggests there was some reason for the Telegraph's stance. And fancy waving the cheque around on telly - like Father Ted's Mrs Doyle in the Mainland episode.

Because of the media, pressure was also experienced by her family, she explains, which was terribly upsetting - on her husband, and her 'dad'. Note the touching use of the diminutive to tug at our heart-strings. Works well, doesn't it.

Partly because of Blears' antics and the terrible publicity to Labour, in the north-west of England the insane British National Party was able to snatch MEP seats.

Next Thursday, the Dwarf faces her Salford constituency, and possible de-selection. So, is this latest peroration an act of contrition, or merely a shameless attempt to keep her seat? And even if her remorse is genuine, who would want representation by an MP with such lack of judgement?

Miss Blears has said she will not return to the Cabinet. A view presumably shared by Chuckles and his remaining satellites.

It's A Girl!

Madonna's wangled another child from the Malawian authorities. At last we can sleep easy, as the pop diva expands her family while the country's judiciary graciously steps aside.

Mercy: 'Do you have AIDS, mummy?'

Madonna: 'Sure kid, they're over there, just out of shot. Now, look up at me trustingly.'

Madonna, the Red campaign led by Bonio, Tony Bliar's star-studded Africa Progress Panel. Genuine attempts to help Africa, or self-serving publicity platforms?

Now, you may not like Bob Geldof's robust approach, but he was first to put Africa's medical and financial plight in front of the world, and his work raised a lot of money. How the money was spent, of course, is another matter. But perhaps he has a credibility the others lack; is his ungracious gruffness a sign of genuine reluctance to benefit personally from his campaigns?

By the by, the story goes that Paula Yates used to spend a lot of time at home in the nude. Cooking, housework, watching telly, all in the buff. An odd quirk, you might say. But then, being married to Bob Geldof is probably enough to put anyone off clothes.

Because I'm Worth It

And another. This time it's Caroline Flint, glamour-puss, fashion model and former part-time Europe Minister. A close friend of the Red Dwarf, today Flint has claimed Chuckles has a two-tier government and treats female ministers as 'window dressing'.

The timing of this realisation is interesting. Three days ago Flint promised uncritical loyalty to Brown's tottering regime. Then came Cabinet musical chairs in which she was passed over. It's almost as if sour grapes drove her decision to resign, but in today's Telegraph, she denies being a wrecking ball.

'I want Labour to be re-elected and I still support the Government', insists the stilletoed assassin. She then goes on to explain at unnecessary length her views on wider sexism in the workplace, political and otherwise. This is an insultingly obvious attempt to move away from her specific motive in sledging Brown, and toward less controversial, more comfortable boilerplate. Transparency in government indeed - though not for hard-hearted Flint.

Bye Bye Babes

So. The Red Dwarf spitefully stabs Chuckles immediately prior to the European Election. A fantastic move, unprecedented. She's leaving the Cabinet, going back to her roots. Pass the Henna. I won't miss that plucky, chipper walk, the grin of almost demented gaiety. Vote for Hazel Blears if you will. She's a ball-breaker. I might like that ...

Squirrel Nutkin's off too. I don't want to rake up the past, but it seems perfectly reasonable to me that Jacqui Smith's unfortunate husband orders hard-core pornographic films. In his position so would I. It's just that I'm not keen on paying for them. For him, I mean. Obviously.

Beverley Hughes: another ginger, another goodbye, another limo back to Manchester. We could play book-ends, or something more interesting. Her expenses transgressions are relatively minor compared with Blears', and she's leaving for personal reasons. Let's hope they aren't as personal as Smith's.

In passing, I learned the other day that on his departure from office, all records of Tony Bliar's expenses were shredded. It's nice to have a good clear-out from time to time.

Happy Daze

I don't usually put jokes on this blog, but my friend Dave The Bass has kindly made a contribution that I can't resist.

A man died and went to heaven. As he stood in front of St Peter at the Pearly Gates he saw a huge wall of clocks behind him. He asked, 'What are all those clocks?'

St Peter answered, 'Those are Lie-Clocks. Everyone on Earth has a Lie-Clock. Every time you lie, the hands of your clock will move.'

The man pointed at the first clock. 'Who's is that?' 'That's Mother Theresa's. The hands have never moved, because she never told a lie.'

'Incredible,' said the man, 'and the next one?' 'The Queen of England's. The hands have only moved twice, because she's only told two lies in her entire life.'

'Where's Gordon Brown's?' asked the man. St Peter replied, 'Gordon's clock is in Jesus' office. He's using it as a ceiling fan.'


One of the joys of this joke is its flexibility.