Look beyond the mockery

9:44am Wednesday 23rd April 2008

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I know it's cruel to mock the afflicted, but the notion of John Prescott as a bulimic made me laugh like a drain before I could remember to be compassionate.

Prezza? With an eating disorder? Get away. Next you'll be telling me he's been having an affair.

Still, all things considered, it may be just as well that he didn't keep everything down.

Such was my first reaction and then, of course, I felt ashamed of myself. People do really suffer when they have these conditions, I know they do, and ever since, I've been trying really hard not to smile every time I think about it.

But it's just so utterly gob-smacking.

Issues around food' - preferably quinoa, couscous and coriander - are New Labour, for God's sake. Prescott's Old Labour. He's trade union, cow pies, beer and fags. He's about stumbling over speeches, not churning out slick sound bites. He's about decking protesters who chuck eggs rather than telling them: "All feedback is a gift."

The former Deputy Prime Minister may have two Jags these days, but you'd never catch him mistaking mushy peas for guacamole. Well, not unless he'd bolted them down too quickly.

Prescott made the unlikeliest confession of the decade in a newspaper at the weekend, telling of gorging on a packet of digestives at a time and admitting a weakness for Marks & Spencer trifles. You and me both, John - my problem is that I can't bear to part with them once they're eaten.

The story was published as a sneak preview of his forthcoming autobiography, which it is estimated may net him £500,000. Based on the show so far, it should be an entertaining read (if at times a little hard to swallow) and it should keep the retiring member for Hull East in comfortable gas-guzzlers for quite a while yet.

Thing is, the revelation really hasn't made me think any the less of Prezza; in fact, I think I like him all the better for it. It's another reminder that he is a real person. He's a big, big personality, a character among all those identikit Westminster suits.

Blair started the cloning with his cheesy grin and personalised mugs of tea. The Tories followed up with their very own model in David Cameron, and now even the Lib Dems have someone (Nick Clegg, is it?) who appears to be from the same litter. To make things even more confusing, they make very similar noises when put before a microphone.

Against such opposition, Gordon Brown would look like a good option, if he'd had an ounce of luck or judgment and could crack a smile without looking like it was just wind. We can only pray that, when Gordon goes, his replacement doesn't turn out to have brown hair, blue eyes and a boyhood Fender Stratocaster in the corner of his study.

If only Lembit Opik were Labour, he might be a good option. He doesn't stand out as much as you'd expect for someone with such a top name, but all you'd have to do is look out for the chap with a redhead joined to his hip, and you'd be away. And I wouldn't immediately scorn the idea of a Cheeky Girl as a 24-hour personal adviser, given what the nation's had to put up with in recent years.