He's obviously unwell. Nothing trivial, I hope.

I really am quite concerned about Gordon and, from the expressions on the faces of his erstwhile lobby fodder, I am not alone.

Jack Straw (Lab, Blackburn) and Sir Menzies Campbell (Lib Dem, NE Fife) watched with sorrow etched on their faces. Ed Miliband looked pretty sick.

One can only hope that after yesterday's dreadfully embarrassing episode of incontinence and memory loss, following so soon on the ludicrous lies of the previous day, the Crown would be receiving his application for the Chiltern Hundreds any day now but, after years of monitoring Brown's delusional state and fantastical megalomania, I fear not.

His grasp of reality now being so catastrophically impaired, he clearly believes that, as a former Prime Minister, he has an absolute right to be heard uninterrupted by the House of Commons whenever The Voices tell him to rail at Life, The Universe and Everything. Because, you see, and he has the evidence, Mr Speaker, and no, he will not give way, because you have to understand that nothing was his fault, he never put a foot wrong, all the ills of the world are the fault of people like him over there - yes, HIM, Mr Speaker - and his so-called 'party' of merciless capitalist bastard grinders of the faces of hardworking families and his friends in the capitalist media except my friend Piers no wait he's just the same as the rest of them they're all the bloody same they're in it for the money not like me and they hate me for my virtue and because they know I know their little game and then there's the fucking civil service who thwarted me at every turn whenever I came up with another of my masterplans oh jesus I could have done so much more if only you stupid bastards had understood my genius but you'll all regret it you'll regret it I promise you how dare you sack me in favour of that moral-compass-less Tory aristo you ungrateful bastards up against the wall you bourgeois capitalist fucker Cameron oh god why did Scotland never introduce the guillotine in the dear departed days of the Auld Alliance I'll see you burn in hell Cameron you you you TORY you and get away from MY FUCKING DESPATCH BOX MISTER take your hands off me who the fuck are you in your pansy fucking tights don't you know who I am I mean who I was let me go let me go I say Sarah Sarah where's Sarah I want my mother...

... the rest was silence.

If only.