The Wardman Wire

There’s been a distinct whiff of the final stages of the Book of Revelations around Westminster this week, with the Gord forced to make expensive concessions to ensure the success of the Finance Bill, widespread criticism over the comrades’ campaigning tactics in Crewe and Nantwitch, and an outbreak of bitchslapping between a Cabinet Minister and a newly ennobled Awkward Squad member. In other news, the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Bill continues its interminable Parliamentary progress as “Mad” Nad Dorries accidentally causes a hands-across-the-water alliance between bloggers from the feminist movement, the libertarian right, the museli knitting liberals, and the Labour left. And adding a touch of farce to the proceedings was Caroline Flint who learned - like Jacqui Smith before her, albeit in a different context - that it’s best to keep one’s assets under wraps at all times, and we all got treated to faaaaaaar more information than we ever wanted to about the horizontal jogging antics of the Blairs. That’s right folks, prepare to scrub your mind’s eye. With BLEACH.

FRANK? REEEEEEEADY! ALAN? REEEEEEEADY!

Frank Field hasn’t exactly endeared himself to the Supreme Leader of recent weeks, what with all that stuff about the Gord’s Magic Taxcutting Budget last year actually knackering the poorest paid and nearly leading the Charge of the Awkward Squad over the top thus forcing the Government to hastily compromise on key points in the Finance Bill. To celebrate the return of Gladiators to our screens this week, Frank decided to up the ante over the weekend and - armed with a rather bizarre statement about how Brown should “talk to his loved ones” about his future and one of those huge cotton plug things - walloped the PM straight in the knackers. Oooooh, nasty. But no contender, however well briefed on the fiscal advisability of cutting the 10p tax rate, can match the mighty strength of Health Secretary St Alan of Johnson, who retaliated with a barnstorming performance on the Today programme thus knocking the Frankster off the raised platform bit and onto Ulrika Jonsson below. Alan: 1, Frank: 0. Suitably admonished, Field managed to choke out an apology to the Dear Leader on Tuesday about being very sorry for inferring that the Gord was a bit rubbish really. Is it all over, or is Frank merely biding his time until he can get the PM alone on the escalator jobby that you have to run up the wrong way? Inquiring minds want to know.

THE GORD: LET THEM EAT CAKE

Tensions were running high on Tuesday as Alistair “The Eyebrow” Darling hoved into view to make his u-turn, uh, statement on exactly what the comrades were going to do to win the Crewe and Nantwitch by-election. I mean, to help the poor people who were inadvertantly made even poorer by the Magic Taxcutting Budget That Probably Wasn’t (see above). The Eyebrow, in a statement to the House, announced a package packed full of lovely stuff, as advert for that car that’s made out of cake says, namely the raise of the personal allowance at a cost of £2.7bn. George Osborne was all, “it’s a political fix!” Eyebrow: “am I bovvered?”

The political punditry weren’t impressed either, with Peter Riddell wondering - as so many of us often do come the end of the month - where the chuff the money’s going to come from next year. Ruh roh! Wednesday saw the Gord slug it out at Prime Minister’s Questions with Davy Cameron who led on the situation in Burma, leaving the 10p tax issue to Nick Clegg. This was the Cleggmeister’s first real opportunity to show us all what he’s made of, and I think I can fairly say that his hair looked great.

The Supreme Leader lives to fight another day, just about.

CAROLINE FLINT FLASHES HER BRIEFS

Her BRIEFING PAPERS, people. Jeez, the dirty mind is a perpetual feast innit? On her way into Cabinet on Tuesday, Housing Minister Caroline Flint gave the assembled paps a tantalising glimpse of her speech notes that indicated that she was about to get all Private Frazer on the Gord’s ass: “we’re doomed. Dooooooooooooomed! Just don’t tell anyone. Oh, wait. I think I just did.” As no less a sage than Richard Littlejohn once said, you couldn’t make it up.

THE UGLY FACE OF DISCRIMINATION IN CREWE AND NANTWITCH

Much harrumphing from the right-wing blogosphere and press (and even LabourHome) about the “disgraceful” tactics of the Labour campaign in Crewe and Nantwitch. The Conservative candidate - an Edward “Ed” Timpson (of the people who mend your shoes fame. Really) - has been copping a bit of stick from the comrades because apparently he’s … wait for it … POSH! Somebody page Nelson Mandela: this is truely the unacceptable face of discrimination in contemporary Britain. I’m glad I’ve never suffered the horror that comes from being the son of a massively wealthy businessman, recipient of the best education money could buy, a huge house, and never having to worry that my invoices will be paid before I run out of beer tokens. Nevertheless, as a strategy it doesn’t seem to be working particularly well not least because selecting the daughter of the MP who held the seat beforehand (is this the Labour Party or the BBC?) rather takes the edge off the argument.

NADINE DORRIES MAKES LENNON’S “IMAGINE” A REALITY

There are many who refuse to allow our elected representatives any tolerable qualities, but after this week I think we can all agree that Conservative MP Nadine Dorries does indeed have special powers. Succeeding where even the Almighty would have struggled, Nad has managed to get pretty much all of the blogosphere to down chemical weapons and join hands in historic unity against her campaign to reduce the time limit on abortion to 20 weeks. Dorries has been banging on for the course of the Human Embryology Bill about how babies at one week gestation are capable of writing discourses on Stoicism or somesuch bollocks, and how the Evil Abortion Industry (TM) is keeping DA TROOF from the British public. During the course of this undertaking she has made some enemies you probably wouldn’t want to get into a disagreement with, not least blogwar veteran Tim Ireland of Bloggerheads and Ben Goldacre of the Guardian’s Bad Science fame, but it is only over the last week that these disparate groups have joined together in an attempt to take her down. Sunny of the Liberal Conspiracy and Unity ask who’s really funding her campaign, Rhetorically Speaking implies that her tactics are disingenous at best, the sisterhood at the f-word have a go here, and the Devil’s Kitchen approaches her arguments with the, uh, mild courtesy that we’ve come to cherish him for (jes’ kiddin’, folks). As a testimony to her awesome achievement, witness this touching scene of love between the fabulously sweary libertarian DK, and Labour loyalist Chris Paul. Brings a tear to the eye, so it does.

… AND FINALLY

It’s biography-a-go-go in Westminster at the moment, with the triple whammy of John Prescott, Lord Levy, and Cherie Blair all jostling to flog their musings to us. Most unseemly, ladies, but not quite as jaw-droppingly awful as Cherie’s revelation that the youngest Blair spawn was conceived at Balmoral when the First Couple were guest of Her Maj (gawd bless yer Ma’am). Like, totally gross dude! It’s like finding out that your parents still Do It.