MAIL COMMENT: Musical chairs game that no one can win

Under previous regimes, a clearly designated deputy - even if it was John Prescott - would be left in charge while the PM headed for the beach.

For the past week we have endured the sight of Harriet Harman temping in Downing Street, while Mr Brown's aides insisted he remained in control and his Foreign Secretary mounted an ill-disguised leadership challenge.

Harriet Harman is said to harbour leadership ambitions

Next week, Chancellor Alistair Darling, a tired-looking man who is routinely trampled by Mr Brown and rumoured to be on the brink of being moved, will take his turn.

Then, seven days later, Justice Secretary Jack Straw - a man whose aides have been drumming up support for a coup - will arrive at the crumbling helm.

Ms Harman, who inexplicably harbours leadership ambitions of her own, used her brief stint to play down the prospect of a state funeral for Baroness Thatcher.

In so doing, she was not only highlighting the stark contrast in the two women's political abilities, but also playing to the gallery of die-hard party Left-wingers who have reacted with vitriol to the plans.

This unedifying game of musical chairs highlights the paucity of talent in the Cabinet, now the big beasts of the Blair era have limped bitterly to the backbenches.

As we report today, Mr Blair has finally acknowledged the death of his political project.

His leaked memo delineates the policy vacuum at the heart of the Government and the lack of any coherent political strategy from Downing Street, with correspondingly dire implications for the party's chances of winning a fourth term.

His words will be read closely by his successors.

When Mr Brown returns from his holiday, he may find Mr Straw strangely reluctant to leave his chair, and Mr Miliband more eager than ever to leap into it.

A DNA sample too far

The hand of the surveillance state has reached back, from whence it came, into Westminster.

Tory MP Greg Hands admits that he is not an 'instinctive civil libertarian', but still feels understandable disquiet at being added to the national DNA database.

Police visited the Commons last year to take a genetic sample from Mr Hands after the horrific murder of his uncle, Leslie Ince.

Mr Hands was never remotely likely to have been implicated in the crime - he had not been to Mr Ince's house and the police who took his DNA didn't even question him about his movements.

More than 18 months later, and despite numerous pleas to the West Midlands force, he is still waiting for his sample to be returned.

It is clear that the police are now exploiting any opportunity to build up the database, which is already the largest in the world with 4.2 million entries.

Of these, an estimated one million people - including 100,000 children - have never been found guilty of any offence. They feel that they have been implicitly branded as criminals.

A universal register, regardless of guilt, is being established by stealth.

Now that Parliament finds its members caught in its web, perhaps it is time it scrutinised its scope.