St Prescott

I never thought I'd say this, but I almost feel sorry for Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott. The poor fat man has now been forced to give up his freebie official home, all because he played a little game of croquet.

He managed to survive the thing where he owned two whole Jaguar cars. He survived the time that he actually punched a member of the public on television. He survived shagging his secretary on his work desk. But... then the revelation came that one time when Mr Blair had left the country so that JP was in charge, within just a couple of hours, he played CROQUET!!!! Can you imagine a worse thing than that?

Apparently this was a really bad thing for him to do, but I don't understand why. I was at a university for three years where croquet was oft played in summer times. I never played myself, but it always looked harmless, if slightly silly and pointless. Certainly I am aware of no cases where someone was seen to play the game and was then asked to leave the university. The whole violent Alice in Wonderland aspect just doesn't happen in real life.

Croquet just isn't bad. Now, if Prescott had done any of the following things within a few hours of Blair going on hols I'd be more against him:

1) He wandered over to the nuclear bunker and lovingly fondled the Big Red Button for a few minutes before shouting "f**k Wales" and then pressing it.

2) He went off to find Mrs Blair and then made love to her for eight solid hours because they've had this thing for years but they never found a time when they could be alone together.

3) He went for a walk around town and then punched a member of the public in the head.

But he never did any of these things (apart from number three) so I don't see the issue! I say to all the British People: Let this man keep his official home. He has never done nothing wrong. In fact he should be sainted. Are you listening Mr German Pope (sorry, I've forgot your name)? Saint him now!