As I was saying to a good friend not long ago, I do not believe I have ever heard the sort of language used about Brown applied to any other Prime Minister in my lifetime. The talk of his overwhelming incompetence and inadequacy as leader have been in every newspaper for months, on the lips of his colleagues at regular intervals. Nothing is asked of him except when will he go? Not even the most spectacularly incapable of Prime Ministers, Jim Callaghan, attracted this level of contempt, although he, too deserved it. For Brown, not only are the gloves off, the knuckledusters they were hiding are proudly on display.
So, what can he do? He cannot win, but he could go out with honour. Given that nothing will improve his chances, he could go for broke - run wild with a terrifying look.
For a start, I would recommend that he ditch his grey suits at once. They make him look insubstantial... or should I say even more insubstantial.
He should immediately start wearing dark glasses, which he should never take off, not even in bed.
He should begin smoking massive cigars, preferably Cuban, and he should blow the smoke in his opponents faces whenever possible. He should do likewise with George Bush at every meeting.
He should grow a beard and mustache and spike his hair up. He should wear the thickest and blackest of black suits. In short, he should model himself on Orson Welles as Mr Arkadin. There is a superficial resemblance!
To every question from David Cameron in the house he should merely smile... and a Gordon Brown smile is disturbing. He should give no answer, ever, but he should chuckle under his breath, in a really evil way. If tempted to say anything, he should he heard to mutter Yeah... right!
He should take up clay pigeon shooting, using the most powerful handgun in the world that could blow your head clean off.
He should start taking cocaine.
When a rumour starts that he is taking heroin, he should do nothing to dispel it.
He should start taking heroin.
He should grow his beard longer yet and adopt a monks habit.
He should begin an affair with Kate Moss.
When, on the eve of the election, a series of horrific murders leave a trail of Polonium 212 radioactivity that brings police straight to No. 10 Downing Street, Gordon Brown should taunt Scotland Yard with his trademark chuckle.
He should say: Youll never take me alive, copper!