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Let’s face it, you’d have to have a heart of stone not to have laughed just a little at the news that John Prescott claims to have suffered from bulimia.

Somehow the news that every time he looks in the mirror he sees a fat twat looking back is no surprise to the rest of us, who have eyes. 

For years Tony Blair employed him in a relationship more commonly seen where a plain girl seeks to make herself seem more attractive by hanging around with a fat lass, the classic ‘cruiser and tugboat’ tactic (see Richard and Judy for a particularly successful example). 

Why then this sudden revelation from the sexagenarian?

It wouldn’t have anything to do with the imminent release of his book “Prezza, Pulling No Punches” (available everywhere Ginsters are sold), surely?

This sort of low, malign cunning is somewhat typical of the half man, half Churchill dog that was terrifyingly in charge of the country whenever Tony fancied a skive.

The initial glee of the press gave way quickly to a sort of confused sympathy.

They were unsure on how to report the news, caught between the two stools of attack and gush.

The Sun typifies this by starting with “bulimia is no laughing matter" but thinks that, in Prescott's case, it was “a misdiagnosis.

More likely, he was just a greedy incompetent who gobbled every tasty treat going," they helpfully conclude.

You know you’re in trouble when your most vocal supporter is a nob of massive proportions.

Uri Geller, another self-confessed bulimic, praised Prescott's "courage" in admitting his condition. And then bent his spoons so that he couldn’t have any more pie, or something.

This attempt by Prescott to rewrite himself as some sort of stoic hero battling against illness to right the wrongs of the world is about as crass as it gets.

The condition, feigned or not, does not change the fact of his inherent cunthood.

He greedily slurped at the teat of Blair until it ran dry and fucked his way in to the public consciousness.

Being bulimic won’t change that perception one iota. After all, one wouldn’t think differently of Hitler if it were revealed he had RSI or that Stalin was a martyr to athlete’s foot. 

He was and remains a fat, useless twat. He has made a massive pile of cash doing basically fuck all and now wishes to cash in on the sympathy vote before retiring to some sort of cake based idyll. 

Now that’s enough to make anyone throw up.