Bollocks, bollocks, shit and bollocks.  The mobile rang at 6 a.m. this morning and woke me up. I was hoping for the sweet, sultry Anglo-Français soothing vowels of Ellie, instead a jarring voice from the past made my blood freeze.  “Hellooo, aahhm back in Westminster, ahh see you ahh struggling a bit. I’m going to help with your campaign. Meet me in Portcullis House at 11.00 a.m.” Shit, shit, shit. Shit. The last thing I need is Gordon “helping” with the campaign. Noooooooooooo!

(*As leaked to Guido)