A government of Neros

John Prescott has always claimed to be one of the unacknowledged founders of New Labour. It is certainly true that he took an early lead in modernising the party’s structure, championing the Private Finance Initiative and the coining of slogans: ‘traditional values in a modern setting’ came from the Prescott camp, not the restaurants of Islington.

But the Deputy Prime Minister’s true significance to the Blair era has been even deeper. He has been the indispensable bridge between the Prime Minister and the Labour movement, the sidekick who has vouched for Tony Blair when he has appeared to be desecrating all that the party stands for.

Mr Prescott’s departmental portfolio has always been incidental; he is a lousy minister who has presided over failure in transport, environment and housing policy. But his ministerial responsibilities — rather than Dorneywood — were always his true perks. The Deputy Prime Minister’s real job was to keep the peace between Mr Blair and the Labour party and, in later years, to broker a succession deal between the Prime Minister and Chancellor. In fairness to Mr Prescott, both tasks would try the patience of angels.

Since the disclosure of his affair with his diary secretary, Tracey Temple — which may have involved a breach of his own departmental rules — Mr Prescott has cut a pathetically diminished figure. For the first time, Labour members have turned on the Deputy Prime Minister, treating him not as a flawed colossus of their movement but as an embarrassing Falstaff who has brought the party into disrepute. It is not sexual morality that has done for Mr Prescott but the whiff of decadence; there is a sense among the Labour rank and file that his credibility is in tatters, that he has turned Whitehall into a playground for trysts and croquet.