I hate going to work after a day off. I hate it even more after a weekend, a long weekend or a holiday. Needless to say, I was very grumpy this morning, so I decided to take it out on the arrogant Tom Harris MP, one of those vying to lead the Scottish Labour Party following the enforced retirement of the Smug Silver Fox himself, Mr Iain Gray. There's just one problem: there is NO SUCH THING as the Scottish Labour Party. In true 'Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition' style, there are two problems: no such party and the fact that he's an MP (and the next Scottish election is four and a half years away. I wonder which little lost Labour lamb will be sacrificed in order for Harris and his monumental ego to be parachuted into Holyrood). I thought I'd get a wee, sleekit dig in about his comments about Labour being the party of the Public Sector (according to him, it shouldn't be). I noticed that he didn't offer his support to Public Sector workers in their forthcoming struggle, but then he's not John McDonnell. He should be exposed for what he is; a self-obsessed, bumptious Blairite; in other words, a dinosaur.
He's up against that greetin' faced wee troll Johann Lamont (who looks like she's chewing a wasp, except for the fact that the wasp had more sense) and Mr. Ken butter-wouldn't-melt McIntosh (who greets as much as Lamont, only with a posh voice). I've no idea when nominations close, but that line-up makes me yearn for Jack McConnell. The 'Scottish Labour Party' doesn't know what it's missing; Henry McLeish. Nice fellow, even if he's starting to sound as demented as Craig Brown. I suppose the outcome depends on the eventual runners and riders and just how much support Harris has in West Central Scotland. At this juncture, it seems quite incomprehensible that someone so odious and conceited as he would make friends in Labour's heartlands, but stranger things have happened, like Tom Greatrex. Who could have predicted Gray's elevation to the top job, though as I tweeted to Harris, Gray seems like the Dalai Lama compared to him. One thing's for sure, if Harris does win and eventually finds himself in Holyrood ( he'd have to, as there'd be no point in having a review and talking about autonomy if the 'party' was still run from London) the Scots' Parliament will become a great battleground, the scene of endless, bitter conflict between a smart Alec and Smart Alex. Be careful what you wish for, Labourites.
Work got in the way of trying to poke Ed Miliband in the ribs. When I got home, I sent him a wee message on Twitter, but I know he won't read it (just like Nick Clegg from last week). Apparently, if you work hard and don't make a fuss (interesting, that bit), you deserve your reward. Personally, and for many women of a certain age in the Public Sector, the reward for paying for a pension for three decades or more should be the pension and retirement age stated in your contract of employment. None of us signed up to a pension administered by some fly-by-night asset strippers. Oh, wait a minute, we did. It's called the UK Government, and it even makes members of our Armed Forces redundant.
On a cheerier note, this evening's rehearsal started with the Triumphal March from Aida (which was more like a diffident stumble) and ended with Finlandia, our rendition of which wouldn't stoke the fires of Nationalism in even the most febrile. Lots more work to be done.
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