Prime Minister, lend me your ear. Eeuugh. Maybe the other ear. Now listen. This won't take long. I have some advice. When you get dressed, put on your socks before you put on your trousers. That's it. It could change your life.

I know this makes for an ungainly dressing process. A man likes to start with pants, move on to trousers, and take it all from there. That way you can feel, just for a moment, like a kickboxer. Socks before trousers is an awkward thing. Particularly if you already have your shirt on.

There's always something of the 1980s-Tory-MP-having-an-affair about it, isn't there? And nobody wants that. Least of all you. But you need to make the sacrifice, Gordon. This can't go on.

It's just, look, I've lost track of the number of photographs I've seen of you with one leg of your trousers tucked into your socks. Is one leg tucked in better than both legs tucked in? I'm not even sure. At least with both, there's a certain Biggles vibe going on. A Superman vibe, even, if the socks are red and the trousers are azure, which yours weren't. But there was none of that on Wednesday. You arrived at the White House, you gave a thrilled, rare Gordon beam, and you shook the hand of Gladys Boluda, the US State Department's Chief of Protocol. And, even from a distance, on the photos that your own office put on Flickr, we could tell that your right leg was sort of... tapered. It was not a good look. We all knew you hadn't cycled there.

It could be a hip-hop look, but you're not really a hip-hop kinda guy.

Really, you look like you've got a hole in your pocket and you're worried about losing your change. Sure, in all the later photos, you've got it sorted. By the time you met the man himself, you'd obviously noticed, or somebody had told you, and you'd given a little tug. Maybe that's even what a head of protocol is for. Only it wasn't the first time, was it?

You've got enough on your plate as it is, and this is a problem easily remedied. Take it from me. Socks before trousers. Works every time.

Me? I'm not them

But then he's different, is Gordon. And yet so perfectly suited to our time. On the Today programme the other morning, there he was, doggedly not apologising for anything. It's almost impressive, when he really goes at it. You know what he's not going to say, but the fun lies in guessing exactly how he'll manage not to say it.

They're not like us, are they, chortled John Humphrys, afterwards. And he was right, but only in a way. I do think there's a big them-and-us thing gearing up, thanks to the impending end of the world, but I'm not sure on which side the media will end up.

Gordon Brown is a them Prime Minister, in just the way that Tony Blair always tried so hard not to be. Jack Straw never used to be a them but he is one now, and he doesn't care, and that's why he vetoed the release of Cabinet minutes over Iraq. Harriet Harman clearly sees an us gap in the market, but isn't capable of filling it. David Miliband used to try, but no longer bothers. For the most part, the them are battening down the hatches. That's why MPs suddenly want to hide their homes.

All bankers are them, but so is Jonathan Ross. The Royal Family have never really been us but if they ever become entirely them, they're buggered. Do they seem like they're keeping their heads down right now? That's probably why.

Them and us isn't entirely about money, or even about personality. It's about power, and how it is used. Local councillors are all them. The woman in the call centre is, too, even if only in office hours. It's them who decide that your delivery will come between 9am and 6pm. The receptionist in A&E is a them although the doctors aren't, and the nurses can go either way. Traffic wardens are all them. Bus drivers are them, but taxi drivers never are. We're all still telling ourselves that Barack Obama is us, but we're starting to have doubts.

It's not us who broke the world. It's them. Sometimes the battle lines are clear. But with John Humphrys? With me? I'm not so sure. I'd like not to be them, but I'm not sure that us will stand for it. Let me know.

Slapsticking point

Did you know that there weren't enough clowns? I learn this thanks to a BBC news article. “Britain is suffering a shortage of home-grown clowns and acrobats, MPs on the Home Affairs Committee have been told,” it begins, brilliantly.

Apparently, a new points-based migration system has teething problems, and as a result, essential clowns from China and Eastern European are struggling to get in. I love this story. On Tuesday Keith Vaz, the committee chairman, asked Malcolm Clay, of the Association of Circus Proprietors of Great Britain, why we needed foreign clowns at all. There is not a pool of British unemployed circus performers, Mr Clay replied, no doubt looking Mr Vaz right in the eye. Glorious.

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