Three weeks ago, just before the Labour Party Autumn Conference, Alastair Campbell got a call from a former colleague at Number 10.
"It's changed. Gordon cannot go on. we have to have an exit strategy".
Campbell, sighed. "Who else thinks this way?"
"Nearly everybody. I had a word with Peter and basically, he's not listening to anything or anybody anymore. He's just going around saying we've got to fuck the Tories, fuck Cameron."
Alastair said, "They are cunts. They will fuck themselves. How is the speech going?"
"Its all about fucking the Tories".
"Who is talking to Gordon?"
"Mostly Peter and me"
"Do me a fucking favour.."
Campbell drew breath. "Who is in the frame?"
"Yeah, which one?", Campbell allowed himself a little laugh. " Ed will do what he is told".
"We want you to come in and find a way to get Gordon out, tastefully, dignified and soon. Get him a job with the World Bank or Safeways or something."
"Everybody I talk to say he is losing it. Everybody is asking me.ME, for fuck's sake! The blogs are full of the medication story and it's going to spill over into the papers and nobody is doing anything to stop it. Are you sitting in your offices being wanked off?"
Campbell ended the call. Two minutes later, he rang back.
"Health grounds. Problems with the eye, needs rest. put a small piece out, nothing flashy but do it after the Conference. It will fuck Cameron. Camerion will look as if a cat with cystitis pissed in his eye. Gordon resigns in January which gives us time to sort out Ed, but for fuck's sake, don't tell him and don't tell Peter. I'll talk to Peter. Now I am going to go away and think about how to win the election. Please excuse me and fuck off."