Matthew Norman on Monday: Naydee-een wants to do for SamCam's man

Could it be that tomorrow's historians will date our politics' final descent into its satirico-nihilist phase to the moment the member for Mid-Beds became a vaguely serious player? Nadine Dorries's musings are now respectfully treated by newspapers, and her latest revenge on David Cameron for that nasty sexual jibe about her being "frustrated" saw Nadine starring in the Mail on Sunday.

There she reminds him that 46 signatures will trigger a leadership election, and predicts he'll be gone within a year. She also juxtaposed her love for Mrs Thatcher with her conviction that every PM must show "compassionate understanding of the lives of the less well off" ... but then her idol Sarah Palin is no intellectual giantess, and Nadine shares her impressive knack for the quote ("Posh boys who don't know the price of milk") that crystallises resentment in a lethally catchy way. Ordinarily a PM faced with a backbencher gone rogue has two choices: remove the whip, or bring her into the tent to reverse the urinary flow.

Since Mr Cameron is too weak to make her a martyr, and since she'd struggle as under-secretary of state in Trumpton's Department of Shoelace Requisitions, neither is an option here. What a mess the PM is in with a battling Scouser who yet again reminds me of Dolly Parton's ice-hearted minx, and his best bet may well be a plea for compassionate understanding from SamCam. "Nadine, Nadine, Nadine, Nay-dee-eee-een, I'm begging of you please don't take out my man. Nadine, Nadine, Nadine, Nay-dee-eee-een, please don't take him down just 'cause you can." But would she listen? Would she hell.

Face it, Georgie's a bit of a Joker

Wee Georgie Osborne was politely dismissive of Nadine as he toured the studios yesterday but more significant was this. Until now, I never noticed how his lips curl upwards at their extremities. From the nostrils down, he's the spit of The Joker in Batman.

Keep a beady eye on Boris

Nadine isn't the only fair-haired menace troubling the PM, though he must be relieved by the Mayor of London's pledge not to return to Westminster before 2015. Others may recall Boris's promise to Conrad Black, when Boris was editor of The Spectator, not to run for Parliament while blessed with the only job in the whole wide world that could sate his meagre ambition. Five minutes later, he was MP for Henley. We shall see.

Cry freedom for Conrad

Speaking of Conrad, hearty congrats to the Napoleon of corporate crime on his release. Nothing for ages warmed the cockles of our hearts like the photos of his lordship emerging from his Florida jail to kiss child bride Barbara, whose metamorphosis into a Jocelyn Wildenstein tribute act is coming on splendidly. It would have been nice had Connie chosen to be deported to his adoptive homeland, but Blighty's grievous loss is his native Canada's most lustrous gain.

It's a bit confusing that he prefers what he described, on renouncing the citizenship he wants to reclaim, as "a country in decline". If that's what he wants, he could hardly do better than Britain. And after all we did for him, the ungrateful git. Still, we wish him well.

Sentamu without a prayer?

I am saddened to find Dr John Sentamu sliding in the Canterbury Stakes betting. Initially a warm favourite to succeed Rowan Williams, His Grace has drifted to 5-1 fourth favourite on Betfair. Betting markets move in mysterious ways their wonders to perform, to quote John McCririck, but could the problem lie with something as simple as the narrow range of his Sun on Sunday column?

In yesterday's Sunday Service, Dr S found not a prayerful word for Andy Coulson and Rebekah Brooks on the eve of their Leveson appointments. We remind the Archbish that Jesus embraced others on the cross, and that the promise of redemption lies at the heart of his faith, and urge him to do better next week.

Scots slogan seems like an own goal

If Labour's unexpected election win in Glasgow didn't reverse any momentum towards independence, its Renfrewshire MP completed the job. "FA Cup final isn't on BBC Scotland or STV," tweeted Jim Murphy, "a sign of things to come if we become independent?"

It takes a particularly acute political mind to sniff out the killer slogan years ahead of time, but Jim did so with this: "No to independence, or you still won't be able to watch a football match you can't watch now." Genius.