The truth is the Tories are more interesting as a soap opera than a political party

Imagine it is the autumn of 1993. The summer had been overshadowed by the resignation of David Mellor after his affair with Antonia de Sancha. Hard on the heels of this scandal came the humiliation of the Major government in the débâcle surrounding Britain's ignominious exit from the exchange rate mechanism. Six months after this, John Major finally sacked his discredited Chancellor, Norman Lamont, and promoted Kenneth Clarke to the vacancy.

Then came Mr Major's infamous "back to basics" party conference speech. This could so easily have been the best moment for Edwina Currie to unleash her deadly Exocet to maximum effect. Had she revealed her four-year affair, which ended in 1988, the weekend after Mr Major's speech, he would undoubtedly have been toast, and required to resign. Tory MPs would probably have replaced him with Michael Heseltine – although Mr Clarke or even a young Michael Portillo might also have tried their luck.

It is entirely possible, however, that with the Government's slender majority already shrinking because of by-election defeats, the whole administration might have crumbled.

Mrs Currie undoubtedly had it in her power at any time during the 1992-97 parliament to pull the plug both on Mr Major and the whole Tory government, triggering an early general election.

So why did she not use her secret (and deadly) weapon? She was, after all, the classic woman scorned and could so easily have wreaked her vengeance to devastating effect. Perhaps the long-term slow burn was motivated by money. If she had gone public, the late John Smith could have become Prime Minister and a Labour government would then have had to cope with the subsequent Tory recession.

But the "what might have beens" are ultimately worthless, amusing studies in speculation by political anoraks. The real interest in this bizarre scandal is what it will say about the final reputation of Mr Major and its impact on the future of the Tory party.

Mr Major was actually enjoying a recent revisionist revival. Commentators have often claimed that the benign economy since Labour's 1997 victory has been due in no small part to the Major government – albeit created by force of circumstance, after the ERM débâcle. In recent weeks his formidable intervention on the Iraq crisis suggested the makings of an elder statesman with qualities which contrasted sharply with Iain Duncan Smith, the current Tory leader.

But the diaries of Mrs Currie help to reinforce the impression that the present and future prospects for the Tory party are still controlled and haunted by the clanking of chains from the ghosts of Tories past.

In some respects the current media infatuation with Tory figures long since departed from the political stage is a remarkable indication of the extent to which the party is more interesting as a soap opera than a political party. That we continue to hang on to every twist, turn and utterance from the likes of Baroness Thatcher, Jeffrey Archer and now Mr Major indicates their museum status.

In the absence of a credible narrative from the current crop of faceless characters in the Shadow Cabinet, it is no wonder that scandals from the past continue to excite.