At last, at fucking last.
The good people of Redditch have been busily campaigning against the 'Second Home Secretary' ever since her egregious troughing habits became a tasty starter for the fucking banquet of expenses revelations we've had to endure for what seems like the entire decade.
There was a vast amount fury vented against her for the preposterous Damian Green arrest about which she, although fucking responsible for the police, apparently knew fucking nothing. Or if she did know something, she certain did nothing. Or if she did do something, she certainly said nothing about it. Fairly standard form, sadly.
Nobody was particularly suprised when it was announced that even her husband couldn't bear the thought of her, and had started an affair with a box of Kleenex. Although we were fucking livid to find that he was charging us for the porn he needed to awake his Honourable Member, after years of waking up next to the other Honourable Member.
But it looked like all of this was going to be conveniently forgotten, as the nation gathered around its televisions and PC's, united in the desire to forget about all that massive ineptitude and horrendous dishonesty and focus instead on somebody who'd bought an ickle house for his fucking ducks. That's what we need to stamp out, sheeple.
Clearly Ms Smith is a little smarter than she looks, and has decided to jump the sinking ship. Actually, this particular ship is not only sinking but on fire; filled with rabid HIV-positive baboons; under attack from albatrosses with Ebola and drug-crazed Somalian pirates with AK47's whilst being sailed towards the rocks at full speed, during a hurricane, by Stevie Wonder. No wonder she wants to get off.
In typical Labour couldn't-spin-a-child's-windmill fashion, the announcement has come out in ten different ways through ten different channels, and nobody's real sure what the fuck is going on. But it looks like, by next week, Ms Smith with be back behind a trestle table, ladling luke warm 'mystery meat' stew into plastic bowls at a Redditch Comprehensive.
Unless, of course, she means only to resign from Cabinet, but to remain as an MP? Surely fucking not? Surely even she realises that she's got to go properly, completely, not just back a few feet to a lesser bench? Her majority in Redditch is so slim that she's only delaying the inevitable. Give it up altogether, love. Get out of politics. There's Chocolate Crunch for pudding, and that custard won't serve itself.
Hopefully this is just the first stone, the one that represents the beginning of an absolutely fucking enormous avalanche of MP's disappearing from the Cabinet, from the backbenches and from our lives.
Rejoice, just rejoice.
Speaking earlier today, Gordon Brown said .. well, he said fuck all, because after a brief tour of television studios' sofas, he's crawled back under his bed, where he's curled up, sucking his thumb and whimpering.
Come on Gordon, out you come: you're next.
At last, at fucking last.