Westminster

My friend James Forsyth asks a daring question: "Will Peter Mandelson end up a National Treasure?" A crazy notion, you may feel, but not an impossible one! Now, of course, in many respects Mandeslon is a dreadful character, but whereas, say, Alastair Campbell is a mere thuggish bully, Mandelson is a subtler operator who enlivens, rather than demeans, the political game. I suspect the lobby is delighted that he's back. Who could fail to be amused by the manner in which he smoked George Osbourne this summer, as though the Shadow Chancellor was but a kipper? This was Mandelson as his slimy, effortlessly loathsome best. There was something brilliant in his audacity and his continuining ability to argue that black is white and vice versa.

Peter Suderman endorses the idea that life in Washington would be considerably improved if the American president were subjected to some kind of equivalent of Prime Ministers' Question in the House of Commons. By life, I mean, of course, the quality of political entertainment. And given the dreary nature of most of what happens on the Hill - or in the White House Rose Garden for that matter - one can see why many Americans find the idea appealing. And yet, it's hard to see quite how any American equivalent would work. PMQs is not, it should be said, quite what many Americans think it is. That is to say, it is more a matter of style than substance. As someone who thinks politics could do with more, not less, heckling and cheering and booing I'm quite in favour of this.

David Davis, in an interview with the New Statesman: "I mean you know what it's like, you've worked here, making a speech in the House of Commons is a very good way to keep a secret." There's some interesting stuff too, on Afghanistan, civil liberties and David Cameron.

It's time for a new occasional series! I've been reading a collection of parliamentary sketches written by the Irish nationalist MP T.P O'Connor that chronicle the course of the Second Irish Home Rule bill through the Houses of Parliament in 1893. Much of it is delightful and, I thought, worth sampling from time to time here, both on grounds of entertainment and as evidence that many of the essential rules of political engagement remain unchanged. Here, for instance, is O'Connor describing the general attitude and character of political life in the era of Gladstone, Disraeli, Chamberlain, Asquith and Balfour. Mr.

William Hague warns David Miliband not to challenge Gordon Brown and offers this priceless spot of advice: "People want normal politicians and David Miliband is more geeky, more like me... David Cameron could wear a baseball cap, whereas Miliband would find it harder to appear normal. I must have a word with him and give him some advice - don't try to be normal when you aren't. As I never want to be leader of my party again, I don't have to try to be normal any more.

Since I wrote this, I'm hardly likely to disagree with the thrust of Matthew Parris's column in The Times today, am I? I distrust clichés such as “Westminster village”, but there are occasions when they fit. Within the space of an afternoon a relatively small number of people - MPs, broadcasters, journalists, party hacks - gathered within a relatively confined space and, communicating mostly with each other, worked each other up into a clear, sharp and settled judgment on the question of the hour. By now it was almost unanimous. The judgment was conveyed electronically to the offices of the national press, bouncing back at Westminster in the form of vituperative editorials and opinion columns by dawn the next morning.

Everyone agreed that David Davis's resignation yesterday was extraordinary political theatre and that it would be a rash man who predicted its consequences. Some pundits were prepared to acknowledge the bravura  - even the foolhardy courage - of Davis's decision to risk ridicule and disaster on a supposedly quixotic personal crusade but, as the presses rooled and Friday's editorials and analysis columns were pinged onto the internet, something remarkable happened: after a day spent wondering how brave a man must be to predict the consequences of Davis's actions, the Westminster press corps and its gaggle of pundits and metropolitan swells came to a single conclusion: David Davis must be mad. Dissenting voices are hard to find.

Defeat for Gordon Brown on 42 Days yesterday would have been catastrophic. But, as I suggested, victory hasn't done him much good either. The Spectator samples press reaction: "Desperate Brown scrapes through" says the Guardian, quoting Dianne Abbott saying it was a “grubby bazaar”. Just how grubby is shown by the Daily Mail which names those concessions. “Winner or Loser?” asks The Independent’s front page and editorial argues for the latter (“A victory that only exposes Mr Brown’s weakness”). The Mirror’s spread says simply “Day of Shame”. The Times’ leader says simply “Westminster for Sale” saying this horse trading will only further lower the public’s opinion of British politics. All true.

It's a measure of Gordon Brown's weakness that he's come so close to losing the vote on 42 Days. But, as Ben Brogan reports, he's done it: The DUP are on board, Diane Abbott has been spoken to by Gordon Brown for the first time in 20 years, cash for sick miners and help for Cuba has been whistled out of nowhere, and so the vote is won. I spoke to David Davis earlier, who knows a thing or two about whipping and numbers. The 54 Labour rebels he knew about on Friday were down to 44 last night, and the DUP will support Mr Brown. At that rate the game is up. But what use is this shabby triumph? The DUP and other rebels have been bribed and everyone knows that the government has retreated in a shambles, all order and discipline lost.

A heartening, very interesting - and highly unusual - intervention by the Lord Advocate: Scotland's top prosecutor has said the case has not been made for extending the length of time terror suspects can be detained without charge to 42 days. BBC Scotland has learnt that Lord Advocate Elish Angiolini gave her opinion in a letter to the Liberal Democrat MP Alistair Carmichael. She said the change from the current 28 days was not supported by "prosecution experience to date"... "While there has been a limited number of cases in Scotland which were investigated in terms of the Terrorism Act 2000, I am not aware of any case where an extension of the period beyond 28 days would have been required.

I wasn't quite sure what to say about this. This being the Scottish Labour party's latest attempt to finesse their position on the matter of an independence referendum.

At the weekend a friend observed that Gordon Brown isn't the man my pal had thought he was. In unison two other friends chirped up: "but he's exactly the man I thought he was". Poor Broon, he's taking a terrible beating these days. Here's Simon Hoggart in the Guardian today: It was awful, and it's getting worse. When I was at secondary school we had a temporary teacher for a term. He was hopeless. There is no group more cruel than young teenage boys, except young teenage girls, and we treated him unmercifully. At the end of term a friend and I saw him cycling down our street, and, separated from the feral pack, felt great pity. We stopped him, apologised for our class's behaviour, and said we hoped his next post would be happier.

There's no stopping this blogging thing. The latest citadel to fall is, of all places, the dear old House of Lords. Hence Lords of the Blog which officially launched today. With any luck it will capture something of the upper House's eccentricity... Lord Lipsey makes half a fair point here, for instance: I am in favour of very radical reform of the Lords, its arcane and inefficient procedures, a statutory appointments commission, the end of hereditaries, the eviction of criminals and tax evaders and much more taking of evidence and less speechifying. The only reform to which I am wholly opposed is election.