The Importance of Being Gordon

One of the stock comic characters in English literature is the person who never appears but is claimed to possess all kinds of extraordinary attributes. Sometimes he (or she) does exist but is quite different from the person depicted; sometimes he is dead; and sometimes he never existed at all. In the last category is Bunbury, in The Importance of Being Earnest:

"I have invented an invaluable permanent invalid called Bunbury in order that I may be able to go down into the country whenever I choose."

Then again, there is the partner (often in the publishing business) who is never seen and is dead or retired but is, according to the active partner, of a ferocious disposition, reluctant to part with a penny of the firm's money.

In the present government, the role of the mean and menacing partner is played by Mr Gordon Brown, while the one who would be more accommodating if only he could be is played by Mr Tony Blair. Of course, the relationship is not simple; it never is. It suits Mr Blair's purposes – for example, over the euro – to leave the impression that Mr Brown is more independent than he perhaps is. Indeed, Mr Brown often grumbles about the burdens placed on his shoulders by an exigent No 10. The story is that recently he said to Mr Blair:

"I've done everything you've ever asked. I even got married."

It is probably fair to say that Mr Brown has shown less independence of Mr Blair than Nigel Lawson did of Margaret Thatcher in 1983-89. For some reason it is believed that she sacked Nigel for cheek, as she had sacked others such as Norman St John-Stevas. In fact, he resigned in protest at the position of Sir Alan Walters as her economic adviser; she did everything she could to retain his services; and it was the beginning of the end which came in 1990.

In the late 1940s there was a big-band number whose first line was: "B for bounce, B for Boston." Baghdad has now succeeded that town in Massachusetts. So far the chief beneficiary of the effect seems to be Mr Charles Kennedy rather than Mr Blair or, for that matter, Mr Iain Duncan Smith. For myself I welcome this, even if Mr Kennedy did not enjoy a specially distinguished war, giving a somewhat underwhelming performance in which, with the ball in his hands and the line at his mercy, he preferred to avoid the prospect of serious injury.

The Tory tackling is going to become even more fierce, while the People's Party will cease treating Mr Kennedy with the amused condescension which it has shown up till now. This does not mean that those around Mr Blair regard Mr Kennedy as fit to be spoken of in the same sentence as their victorious master, who is, with Mr George Bush, a lord of the universe. The mother of George III is supposed to have said to him: "George, be a King." Even though they might not spot the reference, they would say: "Tony, be a Prime Minister."

This would mean sacking Mr Brown and, while not casting him into outer darkness, making him Foreign Secretary, Home Secretary or Leader of the House. And who would succeed him? Why, someone prepared to do Mr Blair's bidding, in particular to agree to a referendum on the euro.

My own feeling is that the europhiles are deluding themselves. It suits Mr Blair very well to have Mr Brown conveniently to hand as his Bunbury, his dear friend who, alas, prevents him from doing what he would otherwise be only too pleased to undertake. But if I am wrong about this, if Butcher Blair, the Sedgefield Strangler, does get rid of Mr Brown – I refer to his record as our most belligerent Prime Minister since Lord Palmerston rather than to any ruthlessness towards his colleague – who would replace Mr Brown?

Mysteriously, shares in Ms Patricia Hewitt are rising fast. It may be that Mr Blair feels it would play well with the prig press, already put out by the war, for him to appoint our first woman Chancellor. If he is in a less adventurous mood, we need look no further than one of those two ministers who joined – or were press-ganged into joining – him in the last few weeks in an extraordinary farrago of constitutional nonsense: Mr David Blunkett and Mr Jack Straw.

It began with Mr Blair's interview in The Sun, painting an almost unbearably affecting Victorian picture of him telling his young family that they might soon find themselves homeless, thrust out into a chill Downing Street, if the Commons rejected his position on Iraq.

The Queen could not have prevented Mr Blair from resigning (though George V stopped Ramsay MacDonald in 1931). In the circumstances, she would have had no choice except to send for Mr John Prescott as Deputy Prime Minister and acting leader of by far the largest party in the House. The party nationally would then have had to hold an election in accordance with the shadow cabinet's memorandum of January 1957 which closely followed the resignation of Anthony Eden as Prime Minister and his succession by Harold Macmillan. This is what happened when, under an earlier (and better) voting system, James Callaghan succeeded Harold Wilson in 1976.

Mr Blunkett and Mr Straw would, they tell us, have played no part in these stirring events. They also would have resigned along with Mr Blair. In carefully co-ordinated interviews in different newspapers, they were more precise than the Prime Minister. They would, they say, have gone if more than half of the parliamentary party had supported the dissident amendment. In the event, 139 did so.

The Whips give the strength as 410; the magic number is accordingly 205. But this does not take into account the payroll vote, the members who are expected to vote for the Government come what may. The Whips give this as 90: it is the payroll vote for the purposes of the relevant ministerial legislation. The true payroll vote, including PPSs, is nearer 140. Take this figure from 410 and we are left with 270 disinterested Labour members, of whom half come to 135. So on a realistic computation Mr Blair won the support of just under half his party.

Mr Blair did not say anything at the time, any more than Mr Blunkett and Mr Straw did, though privately there were threats involving the Prime Minister. Mr John Major had similar threats made on his behalf during the Maastricht debate. He duly lost a division but came back next day for a vote of confidence. If he had tried to resign, a colleague said: "We wouldn't have let him get half-way down the Mall." What kind of fools does Mr Blair think we are?