Steady on there. Gordon Brown's Heathcliff comparison in his New Statesman interview is a terrific joke, one many people have made down the years. But that's all it was. How do I know? Because we have guests in the house and I caught one of them watching GMTV this morning.
Up popped the station's political correspondent, Gloria de Piero, cheerful as always, standing in front of No 10 explaining to the viewers that she did the NS interview. "It was a joke," she said. Brown was laughing when he said it.
Gosh. As one who occasionally calls our brooding PM the "Heathcliff of the Heather", I'm glad we got that over and done with. But Gloria's shock revelation - Brown in joke - has come too late. It's all over the papers and on TV.
It is often unwise to make jokes in politics, especially if you lack a deft touch - as GB does.
Journalists and colleagues, all of whom weren't present, deliberately wrench a careless remark from context, overinterpret its deeper meaning, or suffer a collective sense of humour failure.
There is evidence of all three this morning. Brontë experts have been wheeled on to point out that Emily's anti-hero was a sinister, even murderous piece of work, which is certainly how he struck me when I finally read the novel last year. And, of course, everyone dies all over the place, which is how the economy feels this week.
Bald Tory frontbencher Chris Grayling, who never gives up, is quoted to the effect of "not Wuthering Heights, more Hard Times". And "if Brown is a brooding romantic hero, then I am a sex god". Ho ho.
But the funniest development is what we used to call the Raj Persaud approach before Dr Raj's (temporary) fall from grace - psychobabble. The ghost which haunts Brown is not Cathy Earnshaw, but Tony Blair. Geddit?
The New Statesman solemnly has its interview under wraps until later today. But a few interesting details have emerged which make it unusual; Brown is very self-protective and guarded, a hard man to interview.
He admits to buying the Beatles' Please, Please Me as his first record; he likes fellow Scot Ian Rankin, the creator of Inspector Rebus, as a writer, and likes to watch sport on TV.
He doesn't drink much at night ("you've got to be fresh in the morning" - 4am in his case!) and says he doesn't lose his temper much, which may surprise some people.
Those bitten nails? "I've tried to stop ... They're pretty good," he told the intrepid Gloria, who is a sympathetic person. which may be why she prised a few facts out of him.
Then he glanced at his hands. "OK, they're not." I should like to have seen that bit.
But what, I hear you murmur, about the serious stuff of life: global warming, poverty in Africa, Iran and those job losses in the building trades?
I'm sure they were in the interview and may even be in the published version. We can all be sure they are on Heathcliff's mind during his waking hours.
But when people are inclined to be buttoned up it's interesting to note their attempts to unbundled themselves a bit.
Everyone knows Brown cares; they're not sure they know him.
That's why they're talking about it today - even though it's trivia and that Heathcliff joke may have backfired. A researcher at Tory HQ is probably speed-reading Ms Brontë's classic for further mischief even as we speak. What a homecoming after a 14-hour flight from the G8 summit.
Poor Gordon. Poor Emily.
