A String Of Bad Luck

In some ways, the game of politics is very like any other sport - in particular when it comes to bad luck. On occasions, I can play golf marvellously. Even when I hack the ball into the trees, it will magically bounce back onto the fairway. But when I'm playing badly (that's most days, really), the fickle gods of sport will often make it worse, and trees will mysteriously reach out to deflect my ball into the nearest clump of tangled undergrowth.

Now for years our former Prime Minister Tony Blair not only played well, but had the luck. 'Teflon Tony' they called him. Nothing stuck. But these days his number two, Gordon Brown, the man who had waited so long and so impatiently for the chance to be top man, has moved into Downing Street, and his luck has suddenly and dramatically turned.

First, he geared himself up to call a snap general election, but when the polls took an unexpected dive, he was forced into a humiliating retreat.

Then came the first run on a British bank for decades, which has now taken more than 50 billion dollars of government money to prop up, and could cost more. It's all down to your sub prime collapse really, but for once, nobody here is blaming the Americans. Not when we've got Gordon.

Then some junior official posted off a couple of government computer discs, containing information on 25 million people, and they got lost. Yes, that's right, 25 million sets of names, addresses, bank account numbers. The whole nation went into a panic, and rang up their banks. Once again, our Gordon could with some justice hold up his hands and say, "Not my fault, pal," but once again he took the flack.

Now this week, it has emerged that Gordon Brown's Labor Party has been receiving campaign donations from a property developer, who insisted on keeping his identity secret. The cash was filtered through middlemen, and that is illegal. This from the party that made such a fuss about taking sleaze out of politics.

Finally, even our national soccer teams have all been knocked out of the prestigious Euro 2008 tournament. Yes, those fickle gods have turned their backs on our new prime minister, and all he can do is sink his head between his shoulders and glower out at a world full of unfairness.

There is something Shakespearian about Gordon Brown. He sat there sulking and plotting for ten years as his rival Tony Blair strode the world stage. Then, at last, his moment arrived and it's all come crashing down on his shoulders.

He's got a while to hope that his luck will change before the next election, but the irony is that as he finally reaches out to grasp the prize for which he has waited so long, it is all turning to dust.
By Peter Allen