As leadership change gains impetus in Labour, another furious tantrum and petulant whine can be heard from the Brown bunker "It's not fair. It's my turn and you're all ruining it!"
After spending the entire summer writing and honing his conference speech, to be delivered without an apparent autocue in sight, to contain twelve memorable soundbites that can be fitted to any news bulletin, the language so carefully chosen to confirm to the conference that Gordon is committed to a new era of redistributive socialism but not so explicitly that the country will be frightened, with the orchestrated 135 second ovation (five seconds longer than Blair's), he may as well feed it to the shredder.
But those expecting an easy change of leader will be disappointed. Brown will be harder to kill than Rasputin. The evil monk, you will remember, was poisoned with enough cyanide to kill an elephant, shot four times, clubbed and beaten, and thrown into a freezing river only to die eventually of hypothermia. Those stubby chewed fingers will grasp the doorframe of Number Ten with the strength of a silverback gorilla, those heels will dig furrows in the marble floor tiles.
Brown was never much of an academic, but even he realises that history's verdict on his premiership will be excoriating. His vanity simply can't and won't accept the coming of the moment when his premiership ends and history writes the verdict. And this is why it's not just a problem for Labour, it's a danger for the nation. For Brown, like the petulant thwarted child in a fearsome tantrum, will want to hit out, to cause hurt, to get revenge for the pain and frustration. For the national good, the head must be struck from the beast's shoulders now, and quickly.