WENDY'S HOUSE IS COLLAPSING AROUND HER.
I'M sorry to say this about my former parliamentary assistant (she wasn't even a member of my family) but wee Wendy Alexander looks like a number which is up now the dread procurator fiscal is looking into her conduct.
And all for a contest that never was, running against herself alone for the pitcher of warm spit that is the leadership of Scottish New Labour.
Wendy still managed to mess it up.
I told you from the start that though she had a brain the size of Hampden Park, she was so otherworldly that she thought pay-as-you-go mobile phones required coins inserted in them to make them work.
"Doctor" John Reid, my other former researcher, is nowadays to be found in the Westminster tea-rooms like a prize-fighter run to seed, which in a way is what he is.
He sits regaling young lovelies a third of his age with his tales of derringdo and of his decade of struggle to kill the thing he loved - the cause of Labour.
He will, at least, remember (though he'll have forgotten how strongly he supported him) the words of the Vietnamese leader Ho Chi Minh, which I need to paraphrase slightly.
"If you stand by the banks of the river long enough, the bodies of all your former researchers float by."
'All for a contest that never was'