Pettigrew has us booked for Dunfermline, hometown of our own dear leader, Gordon Brown, who, if things get any worse for him (can they), may well be back on his home turf before we arrive.
If that, indeed, turns out to be the case, I hope he decides to pay us a visit, if only because I don't like to think of a "sociopath" with no means of diversion. You never know what they might be planning.
Shabby though our little Dunfermline Circus is, we should be able to keep his mind off things, even if only for a while.
There's the Great Vertigo and his high wire act.. He walks the length of his wire balancing a beach ball on his head while, somewhere in the background Fred Astaire warbles "there may be trouble ahead" on a scratched old 78. On second thoughts, that may only serve to remind Gordo of his own recent predicament.
There's always Bruno, our Latvian juggler. He prefers "They Call The Wind Maria" as his musical accompaniment. Presumably that's the same wind that keeps knocking his whirling plates off their poles. Apparently, the Circus would have turned a small profit last year if it hadn't been for all the china he smashed.
No, no, on second thoughts Bruno wouldn't do either. There are too many similarities between his act and Alastair Darling's "handling" of the economy.
There's always that "sweet little ginger nut", Candy, from our act, who tops off the evening by handling Bruno's balls. Now stop that you..............
What I mean is she does this twee little number where he throws little red and blue rubber balls at her and she throws them right back.
That's it! No skill. No panache. No doing it blindfolded or backwards and over her head or anything like that. Just back and forth, back and forth....... like some quietly demented tennis game for people who cannot handle excitement.
All the time she's doing it she has this mad, fixed grin plastered over her features. It's unearthly. No, wait. We can't have that. It would remind him of ...........Hazel Blears! He may be the worst P.M. since the invention of the wheel but I would not wish that even on him.
No, I very much fear that if it's a powerful and lasting diversion that he is in need of, there is only one thing that will do. He'll have to have a Jumbo Fish Supper with an extra portion of pickled onions, followed by a deep fried mars bar and eat it on a shaky bus going home!!!! The ensuing two days of vicious indigestion will probably be enough to ensure that he forgets he ever was P.M.
A MR. Tutti Del Frutti (of Sam and Ella's Golden Fryer, Dunfermline)says:
If a dat bum comes in my place I'll give him a Jumbo Supper all right......and dat deep fried mars, and dat.....red pudding I been trying to get rid of since the Falklands and dat jar with the boiled egg that gone purple wid green stuff floating in the bottom and....and
Marcel says: Enough. Enough. Now wash your hands thoroughly and get me a packet of peanuts! Anyway, I said diversion - not olivion!