I have talked to an awful lot of people in my time, from every walk of life - politicians, PR men, estate agents, bus drivers, teachers, hairdressers, solicitors, gardeners, bankers, traffic wardens, farmers… But I have yet to meet a single person who has advanced the argument that Mr Prescott holds one of the highest offices in the land because he is fitted for it.
Nobody in the world thinks that he has the slightest aptitude for administration or any kind of intellectual grasp of anything at all.
Everybody - and I mean absolutely everybody - knows that he is a dim-witted, inarticulate, uneducated, belligerent buffoon, who would have the greatest difficulty in securing work as a night-watchman at a sock factory if he didn't happen to be a privy councillor with a vast government department to run.
The Soviet Union was stuffed full of thick bullies like Prescott, with handsome houses and luxury limousines to whoosh them from the Moscow flat to the dacha. But he must surely hold the record for being the stupidest man ever to have held high office in the United Kingdom since the Norman Conquest.
What a delightful little article it is, although I would say that Tom has missed something: he suggests that the reason that Prescott is around is because
the Labour Party would never tolerate what [Blair and Mandelson] had in mind for the country unless they could find some loveable thicko, some icon of t' Labour Movement, who would be prepared to go along with them, in return for a fancy title and the chance to pull a bird or two.
Now, whilst I would subscribe to that, I personally think that it is because Prescott knows something absolutely damning about Princess Toni; perhaps the stories of him having a rent-boy shacked up somewhere in London are true, and Prescott knows the address?
It seems to me that Toni attempts to ignore and avoid Prescott as much as possible; he doesn't comment on or mention him much. It's like trying to avoid an ex-girlfriend at a party because she knows exactly how pathetic and embarrassing you can be when you're in private...
So, John, come on: where are the bodies buried?