Whoever said sport and politics don't mix, was talking bollocks. They mix so well together they're practically the same thing.
Now the football's done, the only spectator sport worth watching is how long Gordon Brown can last without going completely spastic. Like the great psychological sporting feasts: the back 9 at Augusta on Sunday, the ebb and flow of Test match, 9 months of Ferguson vs Mourinho/Wenger/Keegan mental warfare - there is joy to be had in watching the mental disintegration of the PM. It's as though Steve Waugh, not Andy Coulson, is running the Tory media machine.
Mental disintegration - usually in the school playground - currently in Westminster follows a simple path:
1. If someone has pretensions - reveal them to empty and then laugh at them so they feel small.
(Global? Big thinker? How come you have all that time to scheme and plot? You're not very decisive are you for someone so clever...)
2. If they feel vulnerable in a certain area - bring it to everyone's attention, and point at him.
(You're a control freak. You send emails at 4am. Why do you bite your nails? You're surrounded by a cabinet of droids.)
3. Use insignificant irritants to convey your message...
(Cherie, the blow-dryed Lord Levy, scrotes from the back bench, Cameron)
4. Sit back and wait.
In time your victim will either burst into tears, lash out wildly, or both. You then close the deal by laughing in their face.
Let's aim to have him committed by August. Match of the Day will be back by then.
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