"A light touch - that's all that's needed!"

Gordon Brown is sounding a bit like a man caught with his trousers down in a brothel. "Prostitutes? Surely not, officer. They're such fine women! I've been severely misled as to the nature of this establishment". Likewise, he's blinking in the sunlight, trying to suggest to the nation that he knew nothing about Sir Fred Goodwin's pot of gold.

We now have the ridiculous situation of the prime minister trying to make Fred the Shred cave in under some Calvinistic brow beating. Maybe he should summon up the ghost of John Knox to pay a visit at Chateau Fred. Somehow I can't see the ex-banker shifting much cash from his coffers to the Treasury's.

If Brown pushes it we'll have the mother and father of all court battles. "It's a light touch, your honour", says the hapless QC for the Government. "We could have this over by lunchtime. Just a light touch....." And they drift off into pantomime land, with the dame, the ugly sisters and a baddy. "It's Fred the Shred!" "Where?" "Behind you!".

What we need is a heavy touch. Gordon Brown needs to feel the hand of the electorate on his scheming shoulders. No rough stuff, you understand, just a firm hand to guide him to the back door of No.10. The days of his New Labour Light Touch Brigade are over. We can't wait until next year. Go now!