In my forthcoming autobiography, Things I Should Probably Have Said At the Time, But Somehow Forgot to Mention, there are startling revelations. One astounding expose involves the conspiracy against common sense by those who claim to have bought, far less read, "books" by people named John Prescott or Lord Levy.

A second, searing disclosure will name and shame the person who told Cherie Blair that the mere act of putting words into a certain order is much the same thing, give or take a large cheque, as writing.

Finally, my memoirs will discuss the rarely-examined process by which a Labour Party winds up with a superannuated elite for whom Rupert Murdoch, along with his press and book imprints, becomes another name for a pension. The chapter will be entitled "Patronage and the Destruction of All Purpose".

You can't move for the things, just at the moment. I realise that they involve ink, paper and words, but I resist calling these objects books. The big money, I know, is in newspaper serialisation, so called. But if a by-product is the undermining of a Labour government by individuals who claim to care only for that great party of theirs, why should I care?

Mr Prescott's infatuation with M&S trifles, far less his trifling efforts to keep Tony Blair and Gordon Brown in the same room, makes for a sad tale. Lord Levy's absolute innocence of absolutely everything is very good news for Alvin Stardust fans everywhere. Mrs Blair's tragedy of domestic "financial breakdown" because Mr Brown once refused a pay increase brings both Little Nell and Oscar Wilde to mind. Reader, here speaks that heart of stone.

Still, funny things are going on, even by Labour's standards. The cover of the latest Economist magazine is a case in point. Here's our Prime Minister, mocked up to resemble the martyred Roman named Sebastian. Arrows adhere to his agonised - but notably buff - torso. At the bottom of the page, for no obvious reason, a cherubic-looking Tony Blair is grinning. The imagery, one might say, is elaborate.

The late Derek Jarman, having made a movie on the theme, would probably have deconstructed the homoerotic gist of the gag. We can leave that for another day. What we can say for now is that, with the colleagues and comrades he's got, Mr Brown has little need of hostile Tories. Labour, the scribbling element in particular, is doing David Cameron's job. And people - by which I mean people who don't turn out "autobiographies" for Murdoch or anyone else - have begun to resent it.

Perhaps it's a Scottish thing, part of that complicated argument by which any Prime Minister representing a constituency to the north of the Border is these days somehow compromised, even illegitimate. Perhaps there is a Scottish sense that our Gordon, from our Fife, is being picked on. If so, all those lectures on our "anti-English racism" could stand some revision.

Perhaps, equally, Mr Brown has made too many enemies. The notion is ancient: those whom you trample during the ascent are waiting, always, for the fall. If it is a coincidence, however, that a great number of the usual suspects have decided to speak out or write memoirs in the interests of Mr Blair and his legacy, I shall consider my gob smacked.

It is further possible, of course, that after some authentically deplorable results in some English local elections Mr Brown's party has lost faith. Perhaps socialism, or even social democracy, has been rediscovered. Perhaps all the worms have turned at once. The Prime Minister coddles the City class, persists with stupid wars and the assault on civil liberties, taxes the poor for the sake of the prosperous and seems incapable of protecting a society from the follies of international capital. I know.

On the other hand, the assault on his administration, as devastating as anything John Major ever suffered, makes no sense. Or rather, it makes sense only if you are a Nationalist or a Conservative. The former group calculate, correctly, that Mr Cameron is liable to offer them a definitive confrontation. His party is a minority affair in Scotland; it lacks Labour's roots and authority. A faction that would look and sound in government like the mayor of London without his minders would be a gift to the SNP.

The Tories themselves will take any chance going. The sense of Eton and entitlement is strong and growing stronger. Mr Cameron and George Osborne are just doing their jobs. They may mistake an occupation for a hereditary privilege, but there is nothing new in that. Why would anyone in the Labour Party give them aid or comfort?

Some, clearly, would prefer the Tories to Mr Brown. That is, frankly, bizarre. I could spend the rest of the space available listing what I would call the Prime Minister's defects. I could make a case, not for the first time, against the Union. But prefer Cameron to Brown? Grow nostalgic for Mr Blair? If memory serves, the Labour people who are now so damning of Mr Brown's government were the people who spent many months demanding Mr Blair's resignation.

If there is a Labour successor, a Miliband or a Balls, I have yet to be convinced. If there is a Labour alternative to Mr Brown's inveterate micro-managerialism, I have yet to hear it. I come neither to praise the Prime Minister, nor to bury him, but I know Westminster cabin fever when I smell it, and I know that the ailment is of damn all use to proper governance, or to working people.

The way this script plays, as John Major would testify, involves the unshakeable conviction that a dead man is walking. Thus we hear, with all the polling you can handle, that Mr Brown is "finished". Perhaps so. Perhaps that is no more than he deserves for all those "personality traits" by whose description cheap books are padded. Still, I continue to ask: who else? Who instead?

Good times for Alex Salmond, you might say. Freedom's moment, you might assert. I would reply that Brown's difficulty is not automatically, or by definition, Salmond's opportunity. I would add that, when it comes to Tory governments, it is very important to be careful what you wish for.

Received wisdom has it that Mr Brown has been a disaster as Prime Minister. I simply note that he is not Blair, not Major, not Thatcher. Defining a politician by a process of elimination does not count as praise, exactly, but those facts are good enough for me. Scotland will make its own choices, in its own time - and no, I probably won't get my republic - but let's not be wholly parochial.

It is easy to talk about the things Gordon Brown could and should have done; too easy, in fact. The truth stands that for so long as we remain under Westminster's writ, there is only one alternative to this Prime Minister. It is madness, the barking sort, for anyone involved with Labour to pretend otherwise.

Imagine history's footnotes to the rambling pages for which you picked up your half million or your million. You settled weirdo Brown's hash good and proper, and you made a Prime Minister of David Cameron.

The sequel to that tale would truly be worth reading.