The Mouldering Edifice

They're cranking open the roof of the laboratory at Labour Central Office again and praying for a stormy night.

It is a source of amazement to me that Margaret Beckett is regarded as a serious candidate for the role of Speaker. Were Russell Brand to stand for election as Commissioner for Standards in Broadcasting, there is a slim chance that he might defy expectations and not mention his willy in the acceptance speech. There is, however, no chance at all that Mags would reform the Commons. She is the steady-as-you-go-Lads-and-you'll-be-needing-those-spoons-for-gravy candidate.

This is, after all, a woman who actually managed to have a claim for expenses declined by the Fees Office. So incompetent was her fleecing of the public purse that she actually put in a receipt for having her pergola painted. Officials accustomed to swallowing camels strained out this gnat, so the patched horror was required to dip into her own resources.

Is it any wonder that her campaign slogan is "No Gazebo Left Behind"?

John Bercow, another front runner for the Speaker's job, is regarded (when standing next to Margaret Becket) as a reform candidate, but is in fact a member of the "£23,083 Club": those members distinguished for having claimed the maximum allowable in '07-08. The man does backflips for fish and was forced to write out a cheque for £6,508 at about the same time that his colleagues were shoving thick copies of Hansard down their breeches in expectation of a caning from the Beak.

All of which leaves Ann Widdecombe (the Have I Got News candidate) looking surprisingly acceptable for the role. HIGNFY is, you will recall, the route by which Boris Johnson managed to get elected as London Mayor. On the principle that brand recognition is better than a glowing c.v., Miss Widdecombe becomes the natural People's Choice.

Moreover, she actually managed to make it into The Telegraph's "Saints" section. The poor thing actually commutes to London and doesn't claim for a second home at all.

So she won't win it.

By the time you read this, the issue will probably have been settled, but informed rumour (i.e. baseless speculation) has it that it is the Goldilocks candidate - George (Not Too Hot, Not Too Cold But Just Right) Young - who may yet be dragged protesting to the Speaker's chair. Another member of the £23,083 Club, he has nevertheless avoided the whiff of scandal thus far and does not require a bolt of lightning for reanimation.

On the whole, though, it would be somehow fitting were the Speaker to require the periodic reattachment of limbs. The stench of recent disinterrment would be a reminder to Gordon Brown that he long ago traded the sweet smell of success for that of impending ruin.

Spending-Our-Money-Like-Water-Gate, Day 2072

Like an over-loved teddy bear Harriet Harman has evidently been put out of the reach of small hands until Mummy can get to her with needle and thread. So much can be inferred from the fact that Margaret Beckett (a politician for whom the answer to the question "Is she still alive?" has for some years been No) was disinterred and sent creaking into the world last night for the purposes of occupying the Labour seat on Question Time. Since this seat is the only one likely to remain in Labour hands after the next election, leaving it vacant would clearly be at best unwise.

Now QT is - as we all know - a bear-pit on an average night, and like watching the Christians thrown to the lions on a good one. In this case, there were several lions on the panel and a great number in the audience, giving the clear impression of a three-day convention at which only one small plate of vol-au-vents has been served.

To clarify the metaphor, Mrs. Beckett was the principal canape on that plate, and one would have felt sorry for her but for the self-serving and casuistic arguments that she brought to bear in order to justify her various positions.

The first of these is that Grace and Favour apartments are not given to politicians free of charge. How the lions roared with pity for those politicians faced with onerous duty of living (as Mrs. Beckett has done) at Chevening and One Carlton Gardens! Their eyes grew quite wet with hunger.

The second argument that she ventured is that the issue of politicians' pay was really much too complicated for us to understand and we should stop worrying our little heads about it. The lions nodded appreciatively at this argument and shook out their napkins with a renewed appreciation of their meagre intellectual abilities.

Best of all, however, was Mrs. Beckett's answer to the question as to whether she approved of The Telegraph's decision to publish the details of MPs' pay in the first place. Puff pastry that she was, all plump with chicken and mushroom, she had the timerity to argue that she condemned The Telegraph for having taken delivery of the personal details of (and at this point I insert a conspicuously unnecessary parenthesis for the true significance of this to sink in) MPs' staff.

The lions blinked at one another, uncertain as to whether their manes had fallen in their ears again.

No, they had it right first time. Evidently the concern of MPs at their dirty washing having been laundered in the full light of day is not directed towards themselves but entirely towards poor Muggins-in-the-office, slaving away at the paper shredder unconscious of the fact that the security of her data was about to be jeopardised by The Telegraph. (Since Muggins-in-the-office is quite probably a member of their own family, perhaps MPs are right to be concerned.)

At this point the lions paused for a snack and were later seen to be giving Mrs. Beckett's arguments full consideration as they flossed her out of their fangs.