AW, Mr Miliband, what farce assails you now? Ed of that ilk, prospective leader of England and the Other Bits, is having a terrible week.

I’m sorry. I really am. But you couldn’t make this up. And I haven’t even mentioned Falkirk yet. It’s not Mr Miliband’s fault that matters are beyond his control. He tried vainly to stop Tom Watson’s resignation, and the ablutionary notes were part of a script written for him by the cruel, capricious gods of public life.

First, the toilet: well, it was a pretty bog-standard affair, located in yon House of Commons. An aide left Mr Miliband’s notes there, perhaps having taken them for some light reading as he followed nature’s imperative. The notes contained pointers for scintillating sallies to use against David Cameron at Prime Minister’s Questions. Their defensiveness is interesting. Note to opposition leader: it’s supposed to be the  PM who’s on the defensive.

Prime among Mr Miliband’s prickly, putative ripostes is a line for the eventuality of Mr Cameron mentioning Mr Watson, accused of being part of a fix over candidate selection in Falkirk.

Mr Miliband’s sally against this Aunt Sally: “I’ll take Tom Watson over Andy Coulson any day.” Oh dear. Well, at least the two have resigning in common. Mr Coulson, Mr Cameron’s former communications director, resigned over phone-hacking (a subject Mr Watson pursued assiduously).

Mr Miliband’s notes go further: “I’d far rather have Tom Watson working for me, who led the campaign on the phone hacking scandal, than have brought Andy Coulson into the heart of Downing Street.”
Ignore the unfortunate grammar. Me who led the campaign? Me Ed. Me lead campaign. These are just notes, even if difficult to deliver verbally. No, the real tragedy is the reference to dear Tom “working for me”. After the revelation of the notes, we wondered why the Milster didn’t mention Mr Watson when PMQs came around. Well, we thought, why use notes from the toilet when you’re already on a roll?

But it turns out Mr Watson was about to rock Ed’s world — by resigning as campaign co-ordinator. Mr Miliband knew this on Tuesday, a day before PMQs. In his resignation letter, published yesterday, Mr Watson describes the situation in Falkirk as a “mess”, alluding to unattributed shadow cabinet briefings and “spurious suppositions”.

Worse still, he praises Mr Miliband’s “Buddha-like qualities” – sitting for long periods of time with a glaikit expression? – and advises him “to try to have a real life”. He recommends listening to a pop band called Drenge. I see.

Dear oh dear. Is Falkirk to be Mr Miliband’s bane? Brief recap: the sitting MP, formerly Labour now Independent, is standing down at the next election as he keeps confusing democracy and mixed martial arts. Eric Joyce’s fighting has led to in-fighting about a successor, with a union called Unite dividing the party amid allegations of bogus memberships. The selection process has been taken out of the local party’s hands by Labour in London. The irony for the party of devolution should help you understand why satire is allegedly dead in Scotland.

All this for a party that ditched its last principle years ago. If you’re from ooter space, I’m afraid there’s no way I can explain this to you logically but: thousands of people in Falkirk will still vote for this party. In other words, Mr Tentacle: “Welcome to Scotland.” Slogan: People Make Scotland Peculiar.

Before he got to Falkirk, so to speak, Mr Watson was thought to have been taking a peculiar interest in the selection process.  His office manager was Unite’s favoured candidate. In his resignation letter, Mr Watson called for the whole truth – or at least an internal party report – to be published.

At the time of writing, all we have are Mr Miliband’s notes from the lavatory. But, as well as pulling the plug on the party’s election campaign, Mr Watson’s resignation raises questions about a rottenness, dare I say it, at the heart of the cistern.