Blair’s legacy, upon the polishing of which the long-suffering taxpayer had to lavish countless millions in the dying days of his Imperial progress, may take a few months yet to tarnish and then dismantle, but that Fat Pig Prescott, if he cares, which he probably does not, will know before he leaves his freebie quarters at Admiralty Arch that his legacy is already in the landfill site.

Tonight a pigeon landed in Bretanwealda‘s loft with the excellent news that Regional Assemblies, those deeply undemocratic, unloved prototypes for Emperor Barroso’s Prefectures are to have their chips cashed in. All the little piggies who had their snouts well dunked in the swill will be the only ones to lament the passing of these particularly odious pieces of waste. The wonder is that, the denizens of the North-East having been allowed a referendum (oh bliss! oh joy! oh wonder!) on their Regional Assembly quite some time ago, which resulted in a humiliating smack on Porker Prescott’s snout, it has taken so long for Labour to realise that the Regional Diktat was a busted flush.

All who were acutely embarrassed by The Tub O’Lard becoming, on paper at least, the second most powerful politician in the UK, will tonight be nursing a celebratory wee dram of malt at the demise of one of his ‘flagship policies’ (grief, don’t you just hate that phrase, so redolent of the ‘Five year Plan’ mentality of Macavity and his ilk) and pretty well the final dismantling of his legacy. Now everything he has touched has turned to dust, unsurprising given that he has the competence of a particularly bovine Neanderthal.

Still, it will not prevent him being rewarded for his incompetence with a slot in the Lords (not only is Two Shags a fat porker but he is a hypocritical fat porker to boot). The fear must be that he will be around to darken our public life for a while yet instead of languishing in disgrace somewhere.

Meanwhile we have as yet to be told or to work out what it is that Macavity’s ‘Regional’ Gauleiters are going to be getting up to: whilst they remain (being paid big fat wadges of taxpayer’s money, no doubt) the fear remains that they are the Harbingers, the Fasces Bearers for Emperor José The First. All Citizens must, therefore, remain firmly on the Qui Vive for any signs that we are to be traduced once more.

Still, given Prescott’s shame, the Lagavullin tastes particularly good tonight, so: Slainte!