Still, you have to admit, as an assessment of Brown's capabilities, this is pretty hard to beat. [Bold-only emphasis mine.]
One of the books I read whilst on the beach last week was Tom Bower's Gordon Brown, Prime Minister, which I thoroughly recommend. Bower's book, which was written a couple of years back and updated just in time for Cyclops' coronation last June, is not exactly scrupulous in its fairness - in fact, large tracts of it read like a particularly engaging hatchet job - but as the endless litany of lies, massaged statistics, internecine plotting and duplicity unfolds, it makes your jaw drop to imagine that anyone, ever, could have thought that this man was a good choice to lead the country, let alone to be selected unopposed to fill the highest office in the land.
Bower's book makes clear in the starkest terms what Brown's many critics always held to be true; that he would be a terrible Prime Minister. We just never imagined that he'd be so... well, so utterly shit. Sitting on the beach, watching a moustachioed Naxian fisherman beating an octopus' brains out on a rock, the book helped crystallise a realisation that had lurked unformed in my mind for some years now; that not only would old ouzo-raddled Stavros make a better PM than Gordon Brown, so too would the shattered cephalopod oozing guts and goo onto the wet sand.
Welcome back, my poor little Greek boy: welcome back!
And, as a special bonus, the same piece carries a spectacular description of our Pol...
... Polly has a face like a clumsy beekeeper...
Genius, my boy: genius!