‘”We have a transvestite at our school,” I repeated. Only Susie heard me. “No!” she screamed. “Did you hear what he said? A transvestite works at his school!” She turned to me in horror. “Is he allowed to dress like a woman?” Now I had everyone’s attention. “Oh, yeah,” I said. “Totally normal guy, except that at some point, he started reading all kinds of . . . ” “Books!” Susie guessed. “It’s called possession,” her husband said. “Yeah, books,” I said. “It started… he was reading Agatha Christie books at first, then he got really into detectives. Next thing you know, he’s reading Nietzsche. You know, the German philosopher.” “The weirdo German!” Susie exclaimed. Everyone was staring at me in shock.”And he comes up to me one day and says, you know, ‘Well, since there’s no God, I might as well be gay!’ ” “Oh, my God,” her husband whispered.’

‘Yes, I was there when the cloud of death swirled round the prime minister. Heavens, we were scared. One or two of us actually left the Chamber, humming loudly to ourselves so as to sound relaxed. If it had been anthrax, or ricin, or sarin, or even blackcurrant flavoured sherbet dabs, it could have been a disaster for hundreds. But only a minority wanted to leave. I thought, this is daft, so I walked straight back into the press gallery. I was proud of my colleagues. As attendants yelled at us to get out, we stood milling around trying see it all. These people were risking their lives to bring news to their readers, or at least a jokey paragraph.’

‘Over the decade and a half that Brown has endured as a publicly recognised prime minister-in-waiting, he has been variously portrayed by the restless British press as dour, witty; passionate, nerdy; impatient; a long-term strategist, a lover of short-term crises; good on detail, bad on detail; a delegator, a control freak; a bully, an inspiring boss; a bearer of grudges; tough, cowardly; content, “psychologically flawed”; a secret socialist, an ultra-capitalist; a Europhile, a Eurosceptic; an idealiser of America, an unofficial Scottish nationalist; a political genius, a political liability; an instinctive politician, a machine politician; an intellectual; anti-establishment, socially conservative; pro-feminist and laddish. Most long-serving politicians acquire complicated reputations, but Brown’s is one of the knottiest.’

• As Morticians Gather, Blair Turns To The Cheese … ‘[Blair] always walks out in front of us with a great big cheesy smile on his face. I know that smile. It means: “I hate the lot of you bastards” – and who can blame him? We’re all on deathwatch. He must feel like a man in hospital who gets a visit from a polite but inquisitive class of trainee morticians.’
• Bouncing Ken Brings The House Down … ‘You could ever call Mr Clarke white. His face and hands were the colour of brick, a terrific testimony to the preservative powers of pints of ale, cigarillos, and late night sessions in Ronnie Scott’s jazz club. More than a decade ago Alan Clark called him “a puffball … that pudgy life-insurance risk,” but Clark died in 1999 and Ken remains with us, pudgier than ever but still defying the actuaries. He didn’t so much approach the dispatch box as bounce up, like a space hopper in a collar and tie.’

‘Howard sacked Prison Service Director Derek Lewis and then (famously) failed to answer a direct question about it from Jeremy Paxman 14 times on Newsnight.

Howard’s former deputy Anne Widdecombe said there was “something of the night” about him.

Howard was the Minister in Charge of bringing in the Poll Tax in 1988. Even after Thatcher had gone, and after the poll tax riots, he insisted he still believed in the policy. (July 1991)

Howard was the Minister who brought in Clause 28 of the Local Government Act banning the “promotion” of homosexuality. (March 1988)

Howard voted in favour of anti-abortion campaigner David Alton’s Bill to reduce access to abortion. (January 1988)

Howard criticised Jack Straw’s decision to detain General Pinochet and actively campaigned for his release: “We think this has gone on far too long. We think he should be sent back to Chile.” (BBC Interview, 26 November 1998)’

• Notes from Vox Politics Event … ‘[The] blogging ‘community’ are broadband users while the citizenry of the internet use dial-up… interested to see how this will develop. [I think this is total bollocks, personally]’
• Euan Semple was blogging from the UK Houses of Parliament … ‘I’m sitting in the Grand Committee room in the Houses Of Parliament using the first ever wifi network allowed in the building.’
• Sashinka: ‘What is The Palace of Westminster like inside? Quite a lot like a cross between an ever-so-slightly run down private school and the rather English headhunting firm I lasted at for less than a year: lots of green and cream paint, old oak, and the desire, if only the governors could raise the finance, to repurpose parts of the building in a more contemporary way. Lots of people in suits having conversations in corridors.’
• Gavin’s Blog .com … ‘Packed room and lots of laptops with wifi!’
• Blatant Optimism … ‘The most notable soundbite: Weblogs are going to be politicising rather than democratising.’
• Parliament goes Wireless for Bloggers’ Summit … ‘[It is] believed to be the first time any national parliament has set up a wi-fi zone, although the security implications mean that the wireless internet zone will be dismantled after the meeting.’

‘The received wisdom now is that Denis Thatcher was far from being a gin-soaked old bigot. Well, up to a point. But he certainly relished the world of the golf and rugby club bar, the just-time-for-a-quick-sharpener, the jovial trust-you-to-walk-in-when-it’s-my-round culture. Or as he once put it to his wife when she queried his request for a stiff drink on a morning flight to Scotland: “My dear, it is never too early for a gin and tonic.” “He had,” said an appreciative lunch guest at Chequers, “a very sharp eye for a refill.” And if the term means anything at all, he was a bigot.’