The Number Ten Official Brown Called a ****
Iain Dale 5:57 PM
Downing Street is bracing itself for a very unpleasant Saturday night, as it awaits the revelations from Andrew Rawnsley's new book, which is being serialised in The Observer. There has already been speculation about the contents of the book and in particular allegations of physical violence by the Prime Minister against a secretary and another official.One of the incidents which may or may not appear in the Rawnsley book concerns an allegation that Gordon Brown was so incensed at the media coverage of the so-called "snub" of the Prime Minister by President Obama while on a visit to the UN in New York last year, that he bawled out his senior political adviser, the mild-mannered Stewart Wood.
Brown was furious that his spin doctors had "allowed" the story to get legs. Sitting naked in his hotel room he allegedly screamed at Wood: "You're a c***", and proceeded to abuse another member of staff, calling him an "even bigger c***".
Stewart Wood is no junior official. He works in the Prime Minister's policy unit, covering international affairs. Widely respected, but diminutive, he is said to have been the butt of Brown's rage on more than one occasion.
Number Ten will no doubt vehemently deny any of these incidents took place, but aren't we getting to the point where there are too many incidents out in the public domain for them all to be coincidences?
Perhaps we should get Piers Morgan to put these allegations to the Prime Minister. On second thoughts...
Counterfactual: The Second Falklands War
Iain Dale 2:00 PM
No, it really didn't mean anything, the Foreign Office official told David Miliband. "They do things like this all the time, Foreign Secretary," he soothed. "We've got good relations with Argentina. Nothing to worry about." It was the day after the Argentinian President had issued a Presidential decree forcing all shipping to get prior permission before entering Argentinian waters adjacent to the Falkland Islands. But as usual, the Foreign Office was worrying too much about appeasing potential enemies.
The First Secretary of State's political nostrils twitched, sniffing a political opportunity. "Get me Lady Thatcher on the phone," Lord Mandelson yelled to his private secretary.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON
"Adam, get over to Number Ten, something's afoot," shouted the Sky News producer. "We've just had a tipoff." This was why Adam Boulton loved 24 hour news. You never quite knew what was going to happen next.
Fifteen minutes later, the crimson Daimler entered Downing Street. It was nearly twenty years since the occupant of the luxury car had left in tears. As the car glided over the security grids, the memories came flooding back and her eyes moistened. As the car came to a stop, Lady Thatcher's private detective opened the door for her, and at the same time, the door to Number Ten opened, as if by magic. As Lady Thatcher exited the car the flash bulbs went off, creating an effect of sheet lightning. "Lady Thatcher," shouted Adam Boulton. "What's going on, why are you here?" "Are you back for good," screamed Paul from the BBC News Channel. As questions continued to be shouted, Lady Thatcher turned to the cameras, smiled, waved and said something which the microphones couldn't quite pick up. To the policeman guarding the door to Number Ten it sounded very much like "rejoice".
Prime Minister Gordon Brown emerged from the darkness of Number Ten grinning as if his life depended on it. Shaking his predecessor but two warmly by the hand, he guided her over the threshold and into the building which she had lived in for eleven and a half years.
"Well that's got them wondering, Prime Minister," said Lady Thatcher softly. "Let's get down to business." As they sat down on a sofa in the Prime Ministerial study, Gordon Brown proceeded to outline the overt and private threats being made by Buenos Aires. "I'd value your opinion," he told the woman whose Premiership was defined by the victory in the Falklands. "Be firm, don't go wobbly. Take no notice of the Foreign Office. They're quislings," spat Lady Thatcher. "Send some ships South so they are in no doubt that we mean what we say."
They talked for a further twenty minutes before being interrupted by Brown's two sons, who had been encouraged by their mother to say hello to the woman their father had spent a decade opposing throughout the 1980s.
TEN THIRTY PM THAT NIGHT
Lord Mandelson was purring. "Alastair, is that you?" he murmered into his iPhone. "Good pics on the Ten, eh? The Iron Lady and the Iron Man. Will go down very well in Basildon, don't you think?"
"Very good. Very good indeed," came the reply.
"Now what you need to do is get some info on the Argentinian military capability. See how quickly they could launch weapons against the Falklands. Can't take them more than 45 minutes, I wouldn't have thought. See what Mi6 can find out."
"Good thinking, Alastair. Missing you already," slithered the Dark Lord. "We might need to make more of your services if things go according to plan. Let's keep in close touch."
And so it came to pass. Within a week, Gordon Brown had mobilised what remains of the Royal Navy and despatched it south. It was hardly comparable to the task force of 28 years previously, but it would probably do the trick.
And three days later, Brown called an election. He wasn't quite dressed in Khaki, but he might as well have been.
The First Secretary of State's political nostrils twitched, sniffing a political opportunity. "Get me Lady Thatcher on the phone," Lord Mandelson yelled to his private secretary.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON
"Adam, get over to Number Ten, something's afoot," shouted the Sky News producer. "We've just had a tipoff." This was why Adam Boulton loved 24 hour news. You never quite knew what was going to happen next.
Fifteen minutes later, the crimson Daimler entered Downing Street. It was nearly twenty years since the occupant of the luxury car had left in tears. As the car glided over the security grids, the memories came flooding back and her eyes moistened. As the car came to a stop, Lady Thatcher's private detective opened the door for her, and at the same time, the door to Number Ten opened, as if by magic. As Lady Thatcher exited the car the flash bulbs went off, creating an effect of sheet lightning. "Lady Thatcher," shouted Adam Boulton. "What's going on, why are you here?" "Are you back for good," screamed Paul from the BBC News Channel. As questions continued to be shouted, Lady Thatcher turned to the cameras, smiled, waved and said something which the microphones couldn't quite pick up. To the policeman guarding the door to Number Ten it sounded very much like "rejoice".
Prime Minister Gordon Brown emerged from the darkness of Number Ten grinning as if his life depended on it. Shaking his predecessor but two warmly by the hand, he guided her over the threshold and into the building which she had lived in for eleven and a half years.
"Well that's got them wondering, Prime Minister," said Lady Thatcher softly. "Let's get down to business." As they sat down on a sofa in the Prime Ministerial study, Gordon Brown proceeded to outline the overt and private threats being made by Buenos Aires. "I'd value your opinion," he told the woman whose Premiership was defined by the victory in the Falklands. "Be firm, don't go wobbly. Take no notice of the Foreign Office. They're quislings," spat Lady Thatcher. "Send some ships South so they are in no doubt that we mean what we say."
They talked for a further twenty minutes before being interrupted by Brown's two sons, who had been encouraged by their mother to say hello to the woman their father had spent a decade opposing throughout the 1980s.
TEN THIRTY PM THAT NIGHT
Lord Mandelson was purring. "Alastair, is that you?" he murmered into his iPhone. "Good pics on the Ten, eh? The Iron Lady and the Iron Man. Will go down very well in Basildon, don't you think?"
"Very good. Very good indeed," came the reply.
"Now what you need to do is get some info on the Argentinian military capability. See how quickly they could launch weapons against the Falklands. Can't take them more than 45 minutes, I wouldn't have thought. See what Mi6 can find out."
"Good thinking, Alastair. Missing you already," slithered the Dark Lord. "We might need to make more of your services if things go according to plan. Let's keep in close touch."
And so it came to pass. Within a week, Gordon Brown had mobilised what remains of the Royal Navy and despatched it south. It was hardly comparable to the task force of 28 years previously, but it would probably do the trick.
And three days later, Brown called an election. He wasn't quite dressed in Khaki, but he might as well have been.
MyLabourPoster Blog Launched
Iain Dale 1:45 PM
The latest Tim Montgomerie venture will bring a smaile to the faces of many a Tory supporter - it's called MyLabourPoster. You can submit your own to the site.
An Uncomfortable Fact for Labour
Iain Dale 11:10 AM
Any fall in unemployment, no matter how miniscule, is a good thing and it must be welcomed. But the figures don't lie. The number of people claiming benefit is at an all time high, the number of economically inactive people is also at an all time high and unemployment is higher than when Labour came to power in 1997. Every Labour government in history has left office with unemployment higher than when it took office. Fact. And this one will be no different.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Mr Harman Goes to Westminster?
Iain Dale 1:15 PM
And so it has come to pass. Jack Dromey looks as if he will get the Labour nomination for Birmingham Erdington. He's on a shortlist of four. But strangely, none of them are women. I'm sure Labour Party chairman and equality spokesperson Harriet Dromey Harman will have something to say about that.
Or then again, not.
Or then again, not.
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