Politicians still don't get it: They're not special

This week we're being treated to the spectacle of our Westminster politicians playing out games far divorced from the reality of most lives. The problem is that they still don't get it. You may have noticed that there's a Conservative leadership race underway, with a candidate meeting yesterday arranged for the press at which senior Tories preened and demonstrated just how out of touch they were with the real world. It was painful. They did a great job of telling us in what high regard they held themselves, and that it was unreasonable if we did not love them as much as they love themselves. Elsewhere, Tom Harris wrote a piece  explaining that matters such as picking a party leader were far above the capacity of we ordinary folk, and it was something best left to professional politicians. And today, William Hague takes a break from oil-wrestling with his driver to tell us to leave everything to the politicians - that we we can get on peacefully with our dreary lives without bothering our silly heads about these things.

Titanic's fate is a frequent meme for the future of the EU. But it is not only the EU that is sinking beneath the waves, but our own political elite. The expenses scandal ten years ago should have been the catalyst for widespread and fundamental reform of parliament, but instead they picked a few scapegoats to serve jail time and covered up the crimes of the rest. People haven't forgotten.

Over 180 years ago the Chartists foresaw the danger of not only the folie de grandeur that being in parliament could induce, but the proclivity to corruption, venality and above all the danger of neglecting to represent those they were sent to Westminster to represent. So the Charter set a maximum term for MPs of one year. It was the only one of the Six Points that we have not achieved since 1838.

What will it take to bang it into the heads of our Westminster elite that they're not special?

Another Brexit disappointment

Hugely disappointing result tonight.

It confirms that none of the tensions between a largely Remain parliamentary party and a largely Leave party membership are being resolved. This will not go away; Conservative MPs have kicked the can just a few metres down the road, and their spineless self-interest will return to haunt them.

Brexit has been two and a half years of disappointments and losses since the vote. Tonight is no different. 

Peckers up. New battle tomorrow.

Dirty Dog MPs need their tackle lopped

You can bet that Michael Fallon didn't jump because he touched Julia Hartley-Brewer's knees some years ago. Oh No. There had to be something much darker and nastier that threatened to burst out - rape perhaps, a serious sexual assault, an offence against a minor. Fallon's rapid resignation stinks of an attempt to stay out of jail rather than an attempt not to embarrass the government. 

What is it with male MPs that they're seemingly incapable of keeping their dicks in their trousers? Does their petty power act like a sort of Viagra? Or is it just the deviant narcissists that are attracted to politics in the first place? And no, women MPs don't behave in the same way. 

And I'm not writing about innocent horny flirtation; these men target their staff, juniors, researchers, new young female party colleagues. In other words they abuse their position to inflict their sexual attentions on those not in a position to repel them. If it was up to me I'd treat them like one does a dog that humps visitors' legs. Lop 'em off. 

Of course we mustn't let this become a witch hunt that uses harmless and innocuous banter and tentative try-ons to target the innocent and foolish. No. But we must scour Westminster of the threat of the really harmful dirty dogs. As with expenses, if they can't manage to restrain themselves, then we must introduce systems that do so.  

I'll miss Gisela and wish Bob well ...

There had to be casualties of course. Few regret the abandonment of his political career by Osborne; the Commons will be infinitely improved by his absence, and the housebuilders' brochure that is the Evening Standard, an organ that once was a newspaper, will no doubt benefit from his family wallpaper and soft furnishings expertise.

Gisela Stuart will be a real loss. The Labour Leave campaign leader was a boon to the cause before the referendum, and did much to counter the swivel-eyed loon barb thrown at we outers. She is transparently straightforward and shines as, well, just nice. 

Bob Marshall-Andrews is a Medway fixture and I wish him well in his move to the Lib-Dems, despite my wanting to see that party destroyed in Parliament. I can't imagine Medway without Bob; a rebel and maverick who used to publicly but pointlessly prompt the Labour leadership to give him a job. Rochester is a bit twee and has pretentions, but remains more Tesco than Waitrose, sandwiched between Emily Thornbury's white van Strood and Borstal. Chatham is as rough as a badger's arse, the home of pale, scabrous and violent Chavs, and Gillingham houses aspirational but just-coping NHS workers. Bob has done a great job there, transcending party. I wish him well.