Nick Clegg - killed with kindness, damned by compassion

http://www.theguardian.com/politics/2014/may/13/nick-clegg-killed-with-kindness-john-crace-sketch

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Either the bullying helpline is having a sudden impact at Westminster or their hearts weren't in it. I suspect the latter. The only thing usually guaranteed to keep politicians awake at night is the anxiety they might have missed out on an opportunity to give a kicking to a colleague. But even MPs draw a line between a robust bloodsport and a gratuitous assault on a defenceless creature. Nick Clegg is now so far to the no-go side of that line, politicians from all parties can barely look him in the eye. At deputy prime minister's questions on Tuesday , Clegg was killed with kindness.

Almost everything that could go wrong for Clegg has gone wrong. His gamble that the public would thank him for his part in the coalition has backfired badly and his recent efforts to distance himself from the Tories in the runup to the elections have appeared opportunistic and ill-judged. Worse still, they have made him look a bit desperate and needy. His party no longer think he will be their leader in a year's time and neither does he; his sparkle has gone and his reflection is shrinking before his eyes when he looks in the mirror. If he's not careful he will soon be the size of the David Steel Spitting Image puppet. Only without the support of the David Owen puppet.

If Clegg is short of friends in parliament, he did at least have a good samaritan in the shape of his minister for state in the Cabinet Office, Greg Clark, who answered all but one of the oral questions. "The policy and the practice of this government has been to devolve power from this place to our great cities across the country," he said in answer to a question about devolution; though what he really meant was, "You leave Nick alone. Pick on someone your own size. If you want a fight, then you'll have to take me on first."

How much Clegg appreciated the protection was another matter. As Clark spoke, the deputy prime minister fidgeted beside him on the front bench, alternatively staring intently at his shoes, rifling through his papers and turning round to look behind him. For friends, presumably. Satisfied he didn't have any, he leaned back and closed his eyes. Here was a man desperate to be anywhere but where he was, a man counting down the days to a new life in which he was loved.

Eventually Clegg dragged himself to his feet, as if expecting the worst. The onslaught never came. Every questioner was discretion itself, studiously avoiding going for the jugular of both Clegg's and his party's increasing marginalisation within the coalition. It was the equivalent of giving a condemned man a last cigarette. Harriet Harman tossed him a gentle lob about controlled rents, while Henry Bellingham gave him an easy forehand with halal meat, but neither looked very interested in the answer. Nor did Clegg. "Um, er, er, ah ...," he said, his mind elsewhere, before offering a lacklustre response.

The SNP's Angus Brendan MacNeil stretched him a little more with a question about a hushed-up opinion poll that showed growing support for Scottish independence. "I have learned to try to be a bit wary about opinion polls," Clegg replied. Indeed he might be with some showing his support down to single figures. After all, the polls might even get worse. How Clegg must long for the days when he wasn't treated with compassion.