Diary of a Notting Hill nobody | 2 June 2007

MONDAY

Jed away for three weeks on horseback safari in Botswana and nobody knows who’s in charge. Nigel says it’s The Three Georges, Poppy reckons it’s Mr Maude, Wonky Tom says we ought to ring Sam — she’s bound to know what to do (‘All right, my darlin’, getcha notebook out…’).

We will have to muddle on. Tom and I are doing a Grammar Schools Rebels stock-take — we estimate it’s 98 per cent of MPs and peers, including all of front bench, plus entire voluntary party. Personally, I feel this is going to make it difficult to draw a line under things by sacking Mr Brady. Last thing Jed said before he boarded flight to Gaborone was ‘Get me a list of the traitors!’ — so maybe the ‘Clause Four moment’ is actually going to be sacking all 104 shadow ministers who are against us. Actually that was the second-last thing he said. The very last thing was ‘get Terry to put my bags on the next flight, I’ve left them in the front garden’. Someone will now have to calculate the Carbon Offset for a three-piece set of Louis Vuitton and a Smythson’s leather-bound Travel Spa. Can things get any worse?

TUESDAY

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Calls from Jed, 135; emails from Jed’s BlackBerry, 49; calls from Jed’s girlfriend begging us to ignore Jed’s calls and emails, 210.

Nigel says we are almost in ‘Unite or Die’ territory, although obviously we cannot re-use the title of an old crisis (that would be taking the party back!). So we are setting up a Crisis Naming Committee. ‘Grammargate’ is lame. We need something sexy and dramatic. ‘Clause 104’ perhaps?! Dave can then make an electrifying appeal to the party to unite behind his decision to refuse to admit there’s been a cock-up or risk electoral oblivion.