Where's ma bukkit?

Though even a lolrus sized bukkit might not be enough to cope with the vomit I'll produce if I read too much of this.

Gordon Brown has spoken publicly about the grief of losing his newborn daughter as he opens up to voters as never before.

Translation: I'm betting on a very weak hand and playing the sympathy card is about all I can do.

His willingness to talk about private trauma is in stark contrast to his previously voiced distaste for politicians using their children as “props”. But he has come under pressure from aides and colleagues to show a more human face to voters before polling day.

Translation: if I was black they'd be telling me to play the race card as well.

According to ITV insiders, Mr Brown stopped short of shedding tears.

Translation: oh FUCKIT, we forgot the onions.

Loathsome as the man is I do feel sympathy for him and his wife for the death of their daughter and their worry over the health of their son, I really do. I can't stand him on so many levels but even that multiplied by my distrust of him as a politician and multiplied by my dislike of his politics isn't anywhere near enough to wish on him what he's gone through. That horrible empty space where your baby once was is awful enough without the occasional cold dread that the Browns must feel because they're likely to go through it again. But there's wearing your heart on your sleeve and there's Bad Taste, and giving an interview about your dead kid and your sick kid - to Piers bloody Morgan of all people - during what is clearly a so far unannounced election campaign is Bad Taste. Doubly so when you'd previously earned yourself some much needed credibility by bagging politicians who do use their family as electioneering tools. Whether this cringeworthy piece of political melodrama was your idea or whether the party pushed you into it and you lacked the balls or the sway to tell them to piss off is irrelevant. Either way, as the overwhelmingly negative comments left on the Times article show, you come out looking like someone so in fear of losing power that even wheeling out the memory of a dead child isn't beyond the pale.

Do you hear that sound, Gordon? Do you hear it? That is the sound of the remnants of your dignity being crushed under the weight of hypocrisy, desperation and unfulfilled ambition. Welcome to your legacy as Prime Minister.