It is never pleasant to witness the destruction of another human being - even ones you don't particularly like. The transformation of our prime minister from Brown - man of substance, to substantial brown stain - has been depressing to say the least. He started well, putting paid to the ridiculous idea that Manchester could be regenerated with the building of a supercasino. It was a small gesture in the grand scheme of things, but one that showed a degree of moral courage conspicuously absent among his colleagues. It seemed possible that this pleasantly dour, anachronistic son of the manse might actually restore some common sense to our HD-ready, text-'babe'-for-girls-in-your-area Gangsta's Paradise. His taciturn refusals to address "Yo Bush" with anything but the most formal civility hinted at a restoration of national dignity; perhaps his predecessor had been content to act as Uncle Sam's prison bitch, he was "not for turning". It was a great fortnight. Now this.
However, all is not lost. Blair had his Campbell, now Brown can have me. In the interest of halting Stalky and Co - which will be nigh on impossible should a Milli-Balls alliance take the helm - I have come up with a few ideas to restore his popularity with the fickle British public.
Get a motorbike - a big British one, a Norton or a Triumph, and park it outside Number 10. Take to wearing a black leather jacket and get a tattoo done: "Sworn to Fun, Loyal to None". Get photographed doing the ton-up, along the north circular by the Ace Café, middle finger held up to the speed camera ... then ban speed cameras. Come on at the party conference to Leader of the Pack. Your swarthy surliness was one of your greatest assets. Make it work for you again.
Do a Reggie Perrin/Agatha Christie. By the time you are discovered, the public will have had plenty of time to reflect on the horror of your potential successors. Just to spice it up a bit, take the nuclear briefcase with you.
Swim the Channel for charity. You look like you could do it - in fact that funny breathing thing you do makes me wonder if you are not the first Selky Prime Minister. Make your weaknesses your strengths - if people think you're amphibian, then act amphibian.
Gold lame socks. Golden Gordon or Flash Gordon are the epithets you should be striving for. Trust me.
A fight. As any politician could tell you, punching the right people is good for business. Roll your sleeves up one afternoon and thunder across Westminster Bridge to City Hall and demand that Boris come down the noo! Mind you, with your luck...
Don't grin and bear it. Whatever your advisors have told you, don't smile. It's frightening - and until things get better - about as convincing as saying "trust me, I'm a politician". We all know that you are a decent man. Do not be afraid to look pissed off, you've earned the right. Chin up, Mr Chips.
That's got to be worth a knighthood.
