However, to replace the Glaswegian numpty with Bercow was a practical joke of childishness and petulance by the Labour Party, one of rare cynicism. They did it for no other reason than to scorch the earth they will be retreating from at the next election. What better way, they thought, to rub the next majority party up the wrong way, than to bequeath them a left-leaning Speaker roundly despised by his own party, not simply because of his 'political journey' from hard right to soft left, but because of the way in which he had travelled this journey, with his own ambition put before principle, party and constituents. Furthermore, he troughed and flipped with the worst of his colleagues. In short, they consider him dishonest, even by modern Parliamentary standards. By no possible measure could he be considered the best choice as Speaker. Imagine what Bercow, in his old hard rightwingery, used to say about people like Jesse Jackson, the Jew-hating, cheating, dodgy 'Reverend'. And guess who he now welcomes to Speaker's House for the photo-op and the chance to chow down on taxpayer-funded southern fried chicken 'n collard greens? Why, none other than the Don Juan of South Caroline hisself.
So it is to be welcomed that Tory backbenchers seem set to ignore Cameron's suggestion that they let the matter rest. I very much hope that Nigel Farage unseats the oily one at the general election, because UKIP deserve a seat in the house and Farage did alright as leader, but otherwise Bercow must be voted down. Frank Field is honest, modest and frugal. He may be a dry old stick, and lack the self-promotion energies of Bercow, but he is wise enough to ensure that an advisor within the Speaker's office will come up with the imaginative ideas of Youth Parliaments, Portcullis condoms and branded sportswear and the other guff that our current Speaker considers to be his main claims to fame. Okay, I made two of those up. But you get my drift. I hope this idea gathers speed.
Happy New Year to all idle readers. May your days be merry and bright, and may none of your twenty tens be shite.