When sorrows come

I have commented previously, as have many others, on the extent to which Gordon Brown’s life resembles a Shakespearean tragedy.

Well, the tragedy continues to unfold. Yesterday, Siobhain McDonagh, a Government whip and therefore, one might have thought, a trusted member of Labour’s praetorian guard, was sacked by the Prime Minister for calling for a leadership election at the party conference later this month.

Yesterday, too, a group of not insignificant Labour MPs, including the former Health Secretary, Patricia Hewitt, wrote in Progress magazine of the need for Labour to acquire a “bold new narrative” (presumably delivered by a bold new narrator).

And yesterday, also, Jack Straw, the usually discreet and restrained Jack Straw, acknowledged openly that Mr Brown’s position, though not hopeless, “does require a rethink”.

So what now for the Prime Minister? Does he cast off his nighted colour and challenge his critics, John Major style, to put up or shut up? Unlikely, because he doesn’t like contests. He has spent most of his political career avoiding them.

It is just as unlikely that he will adopt Harold Wilson’s tactic of using his conference speech to tell the plotters: “I know what’s going on. I’m going on.” He hasn’t the lightness of touch needed to carry it off.

No, my guess is that he will just continue to brood blackly in Downing Street, waiting for the next hammer-blow to his authority, growing steadly weaker but stubbornly refusing to go.

This paralysis at the heart of government is, of course, very bad indeed for the country, as much as it is for the Labour party. And we may yet have to endure another eighteen months of it.