Blair-Brown bloodbath: Business as usual

It was business as usual in Westminster last week as the long-running feud at the apex of British government burst again into the media spotlight. The nation was glued to its TV screens hanging on every word as two formidable heavyweights slugged it out with grim determination in simultaneous broadcasts on competing channels. The key bone of contention was whether or not the Prime Minister had agreed to stand down in favour of the Chancellor before the next election, and then changed his mind, swayed by the temptation of a full third term to rebuild a tattered legacy. "I'll never believe another thing you say!" the Chancellor ranted at his biographer Robert Peston in a live reconstruction on Channel 4 News of their previous interview in which he had delivered a blow-by-blow recap of a furious exchange that had taken place with his illustrious neighbour when confronted with the outrageous betrayal.

In a blatant piece of competitive scheduling on the BBC the Prime Minister was pulling the rug from under the Chancellor's feet by calmly giving his own version of events. "Look, I dealt with this at the time six months ago. You don't do deals on government jobs, you just don't and Gordon knows it. So when I promised him the succession he was fully aware that I'd have to go back on it later. By the way, did I mention he's the longest-serving, best Chancellor I've ever had?"

It was not enough to quell the flames of discontent in the Labour ranks over the bitter wrangling which has split the administration top to bottom into warring camps of Blair and Brown loyalists briefing and counter-briefing around the clock, engaging in undignified scuffles in the lobbies, pushing and stamping on their enemies' toes with a disingenous chuckle of "I beg your pardon" and gobbing on each other from behind.

The relationship between the two chief protagonists has degenerated to such an extent that they now spend their days locked in their adjacent war-rooms at Numbers 10 and 11 Downing Street riffling through their respective lists of grievances going back almost two decades, rubbing their hands with glee when they find an especially good one to hurl at their opponent through the party wall, deploying the full panoply of government and media resources at their command to make the point stick.

The hothouse atmosphere of niggle and needle between the opposing factions took on a sinister new edge last week when Special Forces swooped on the Treasury in a dawn raid after a tip-off from a Blairite mole and confiscated an impressive haul of flick-knives, knuckle dusters and luxury cream pies, almost certainly thwarting plans for a full-scale running battle up and down Whitehall of the kind not seen since the Mayday riots of 2000. Meanwhile the key areas of responsibility scandalously neglected by the bickering pair of prima donnas but so crucial to the health of the nation — the economy (Brown) and the editorial of The Sun (Blair) — are rapidly going down the pan.

In an extraordinary meeting of the parliamentary party the unruly pair were castigated by Labour MPs fearful of losing their seats as the electorate turned away in disgust at the constant spectacle of internal division and strife. But it was Prime Minister's Questions the following day which convinced Mr Blair that things could not go on as they were. Departing from convention, the joint leaders of the United Conservative, Unionist and Liberal Democratic Party, hastily formed to stick up for the backbone of Britain at this time of national crisis, stood shoulder to shoulder the other side of the despatch box, and speaking with one voice delivered a scathing critique, denouncing the antics of the two inveterate squabblers still unaccountably hanging on to the reins of power.

"You've betrayed the trust of the British people and paralysed the business of government. You've shown yourselves unworthy of the high offices you hold," the Howard-Kennedy axis pronounced with impressive gravity. Mr Blair was ashen-faced under the accusation. Mr Brown looked at the floor hoping it would swallow him up. "You've been behaving like a pair of naughty, spoiled celebrities," the joint diatribe continued. "The public has had enough, but you won't learn your lesson will you. So go on then, carry on regardless, drag the nation down, ruin your party's fortunes at the next election — see if we care!"

As all who have crossed swords with him know from bitter experience, it is when the Prime Minister appears to be at his weakest that he can turn the tables with masterly skill and deliver a knockout blow. Such a moment was nigh. "Sod this," he said to himself as soon as he reached the safety of Number 10, "We can't hang about any longer, he's all fired up and ready to go. It's time to unleash the Major!"

Downing Street aides breathed a sigh of relief. No more cover-ups, sneaking Labour's secret weapon in and out of Number 10, adding a fourteenth guest at the last minute to the table at Chequers, booking an extra ticket for a "tutor" on the Egyptian family hols. An extraordinary press conference was announced. The Cabinet's biggest guns would all be on the platform — Blair, Brown, Milburn, Prescott, Clarke — to lift the curtain on a bold new era in the story of New Labour and share the good tidings with the nation. A future bright enough to put their petty differences in the shade, to convince the hostile factions to draw a line under the argument and move on, to get the whole party working together again towards a common goal, from the grass roots up, from the Prime Minister down, singing in harmony from a sparkling new songsheet, taking their cue from the winning ways of the effervescent Major, a political maestro for the modern age, the brash, dazzling architect of The Fourth Way...

Next week

Labour's secret weapon revealed.

Previously

• Blair-Brown relationship hits all-time low
• Blair and Brown reconciled on internet
• 'Granita note' just tip of political sensation iceberg