It's true what they say; we are led by the least among us. George Osborne, Ed Balls and Danny Alexander came together this week to give us enough material for a year.

In a rare show of strength, they categorically ruled out a future UK government joining a currency union with an independent Scotland. Osborne went as far as to threaten: "If Scotland walks away from the UK, it's also walking away from the pound."

I felt particularly guilty as I watched them; my immediate reaction was 'What a shame Spitting Image isn't on'.

It wasn't disdain, more a feeling of disbelief. Look at the three of them. My anger was brief, as I considered if I had to pick three guys to take in a square-go, I think I'd pick them.

To focus just briefly on the political approach and style, it's like a bully training a dog. Love from Cameron followed by aggression from Osborne. Good-cop-bad-cop politics.

It's a tried and tested technique, waged for generations from mill or factory owner down to call centre manager: fear and confusion followed by compromise.

The UK government clearly doesn't understand that every time they adopt this approach towards independence, especially if they use Osborne, Balls and Alexander to deliver it, they inadvertently alienate their own side and galvanise the Yes Scotland campaign.

They are like a triumvirate of fools, a unified version of John Barrowman, who every time he opens his mouth the polls get closer and closer.

Those who may have been for the union are starting to think: I don't like the way Westminster politics is working here. And I don't like these three people either.

During the week, I didn't hear Osborne say no to currency union if Scotland quit the UK. When I watched the three amigos, Beaker, Gideon and Ballsup, I saw comedy. I can't help myself.

I saw images of the gormless wonders who've clearly over-achieved. I saw a sitcom. Double acts are good in politics but a threesome is even better.

I didn't see a major Treasury review, I saw the Three Stoogies. I didn't see three financial experts, I saw three incompetents on a three-seater bike, like The Goodies.

NAME: The Peter Principle.

PITCH: A political sitcom based on extraordinary incompetence.

CHARACTERS:

Danny 'Beaker' Alexander', try as he might, he can't change that gormless expression, he's our Doberman character, someone with a perpetual look of confused amazement. He's got the job due to a number of key skills, the shine he gets on Nick Clegg's car and the ability to make a decent cup of tea. He's inadvertently found himself as one of the most powerful people in UK politics. A king/tea maker. Seduced by fame, One Direction and loves West Wing.

George Gideon Oliver Osborne lives in a room full of mirrors. Narcissist and ego-maniac, is a rather sleazy, oily character. He has a shrine to Thatcher, posters photos all over the wall. Is part Alan B'stard, part Flashman. Never does the washing up. Lives in constant fear of being found out that he's become Chancellor as part of a spectacularly elaborate Rag Week bet. Hates people, Loves West Wing

Ed 'Angry' Balls; he is all bluster, chaos and aggression and always gets it wrong. He's a calamitous character; everything he touches turns to dust. He starts fights at the drop of a hat. Is always in shower banging head against wall, has issues. He keeps putting his foot in it with gaff after gaff after gaff. Secretly hates West Wing but pretends to love it.

They all live together and the plot, like Terry and June is the same every week. The boss is coming round to dinner. Clegg, Cameron (or Boris?) and Miliband are coming round and oh the chaos, calamity and frolics that ensue.

You will have noticed there isn't a character called Peter in the script. The Peter Principle refers to the business theory that, within a hierarchy, people are promoted to their own level of incompetence, eventually finding themselves in a job they can't do.

(P.S. note for producer - we may have to change the title I'm sure Jim Broadbent was in a terrible show called The Peter Principle, we may need another title).

The floods in England have meant an unusually high amount of COBR meetings urgently being convened. Note, not COBRA meetings, they don't like that anymore.

(COBR meetings, named after where they are held, Cabinet Office Briefing Rooms - they are held in Conference room A, thus COBRA.)

They felt COBRA sounded somewhat contemptible, wicked, untrustworthy, but the media love to call it a COBRA meeting. Way more sexy and dangerous than COBR. Sounds like a snake and a nice beer to have with a curry.

There was a time when meetings were used sparingly for really big situations, now they are cheapened by usage for everything from a big football game, a secret location for Cameron and Clegg to have their hair dyed, and to deal with emergencies of state like a puncture of the shared Cabinet bike left out the back of Parliament for green photo ops.

'What? Pickles has ripped his trousers at the bum again! Quick! Convene a Cobra meeting.'

It gives them a bit of a rush, an ego boost, to live out their West Wing political fancies and self importance.

I wonder what Scotland's briefing room is called? Or do they all just adjourn to the bar in the parliament or jump in the FM mobile and get a motorcade to the Oxford Bar for a code 3 (a piss-up).

Would the security detail say that Special Fish (the FM's POTUS style code name) is chairing an emergency HAGGIS or NESSIE or MIDGIE meeting?

Having read the White Paper, I've noticed half of it is completely unjustified. That's right. It isn't.

The right hand side page doesn't have its margins neat and justified, tut tut tut. Very shoddy.