Following the chaos in Westminster, there has been endless analysis in the main stream media of the roles and motivations of the many players.
Several commentators are saying that Downing Street's problems stem from it being too macho; that there should be more women involved; and that the only people who came out the utter fucking shambles with any credit were the female MP's.
Lance Price, in the Guardian's CiF, even thinks there should be an all-women government:
"..there are now more than enough on the backbenches with the experience and talent to form a perfectly workable government. They could even decide amongst themselves which jobs they took. Women, in my experience, even in politics, are more sensible about these things."
CF begs to differ. In CF's opinion, the common factor we're seeing here is that many women in politics today - regardless of political affiliation - are completely batshit fucking crazy.
What the fuck is Hazel Blears thinking of? a huge, dramatic, carefully-timed resignation. Then, just a few days later, she decides that, actually, everything she did was totally, utterly wrong, and makes a series of emotional and grovelling apologies.
""In hindsight that judgement was wrong .. I should have waited until after the election. The effect on the party is something I will live with forever"
And Harriet Harman? Very busy, pushing her legislation that will ban the 'whites only' membership rules of the BNP . What? What? Are you insane? Exactly how many "non-white" folk have been clamouring to join the party that doesn't recognise them as British? As Old Holborn points out, this is about as droolingly nuts as a man insisting that he be given the right to have babies.
Caroline Flint? Nutter. One week she's clambering in and out of silk frocks to pose for some magazine, the next she's whining that she's not taken seriously, and Gordon just thinks she's window dressing. Every fucking story in the press about this (possibly valid) point was illustrated with photo's of her pouting moodily in a photo session and a posh frock.
And the creme de la creme? The top of the crazy heap?The arch fucking loon? The oh-dear-god-she's-really-lost-it-now fruitcake? Well of course, its Nadine fucking Dorries. In spite of her widely-reported and largely lunatic blogging about "poor me", CallMeDave doesn't seem to be able to keep away from her.
The other day, they went out for a meal together. Nice. Was Nadine grateful? Did she think better of Dave? Oh boy, yeah.
Apparently she was so excited to be dining with him, she was tipped over the edge into full-blown insanity. Bear in mind that the text below is from the blog of a grown woman; a fucking politician no less, not a love-struck 13 year old:
The night ended as it began, with laughter. Can you imagine Brown even knowing what I was talking about, if I were sitting next to him and I said 'just when you thought life couldn't get any better, along comes a Mint Baileys.' ? Exactly.
And it was good to see him laugh because we all know that there must be times during his day, when David the man, trapped within the pages of his frantic diary, cries somewhere inside.
Nurse! Nurse! A small sedative for Ms. Dorries...