Monday 11 February 2008

Ooh Er Missus

European Trade Commisioner Mandelson told us today that Gordon Brown is now

"very firmly in the saddle".

The "cry of frustration" from Charles Clarke is evinced by

"a man who has found his bearings, who has his political compass now firmly in his grasp and who is getting on top of what it takes to be Prime Minister."

4 comments:

Sen. C.R.O'Blene said...

Sounds like the faithless kiss of death, from the original prince of darkness.

Long may he rain (sic).

hatfield girl said...

Charles Clarke's recent remarks were very queer, S, in that he said nothing more than has been known widely for years (and in New Labour circles for even longer - like for ever).
So what did he do it for? Hardly for a free lunch, not with that much damage, at the least to his standing, accruing; he could easily have been in for a mastership, a vice-chancellorship, etc.
Did he intend to raise other matters and chickened out? Was he censored?
Was he raising the Gordon's not fit for human consumption difficulty again because other stuff is on its way out?
Such an odd interview. So not collegiate.

Nick Drew said...

the saddle of what ?

there are vile rumours ...

And though he’s a coward of fame and renown,
And cheerfully leaves his subordinates to drown,
Has taxed pension funds till they’re facing melt-down
Supported the war with no scruple or frown,
I’m moving next door, into Number 10 Down-
Ing Street, riding my rocking-horse, wearing the crown,
And nothing can stop me!
” says auld Gordon Brown

hatfield girl said...

'there are vile rumours ...'

or rumours of vileness.

(Should you be looking about for a verse schema, ND, I wondered if Night Mail, you know:

This is the Night Mail crossing the border,
Bringing the cheque and the postal order,
Letters for the rich, letters for the poor,
The shop at the corner and the girl next door.
Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb:
The gradient's against her, but she's on time.
Past cotton-grass and moorland boulder
Shovelling white steam over her shoulder,
Snorting noisily as she passes
Silent miles of wind-bent grasses.

isn't crying out for a rewrite (if it hasn't one or more already, she added darkly).