The Great Gordo Relaunch had been heavily hyped and though I wasn’t expecting fireworks (this was a relaunch, not a miracle), I was certainly expecting something. But, as the day unfolded, it became clear that the relaunch, like Hurricane Gustav, was going to have to be reclassified. By afternoon, it had almost disappeared completely, not so much a relaunch as a de-launch.

The actual day’s events were a closely guarded secret (a cliché but true) and I had rung No 10 at 8.30am to find out what was going on. “Where’s the relaunch?” I asked. Silence. A voice said there would be a statement from Hazel Blears’s department. And? “The Prime Minister will be visiting a first-time buyer’s flat.” Great! Can I come? “No. It’s a small flat.”

Yes, it was (for I had a spy there), but that was entirely fitting for, as we now know, it was an even smaller relaunch. Indeed it was so tiny that I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that it had been organised by elves who had thought Gordo was one of them.

It began with a “ping!” at 9.30am when an absurdly brief Treasury e-mail arrived announcing the stamp duty holiday. It consisted of 73 words. This may be the shortest Treasury announcement ever. Where was the Chancellor? Had Gordo imprisoned him for speaking the truth? Perhaps he was handcuffed and having to type with a pencil clamped between his teeth (eyebrows?): certainly that would explain the brevity.

Times Archive, 1983: Chancellor considers options for reducing burden

Stamp duty as it is now applied is unfair because it produces large jumps in taxation as the cost of a property crosses a threshold

• Home is where the money should be

• Times Archive, 1983: The ups and downs of the market

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The Treasury would only say that Alistair Darling was in his office and had no plans to leave it. How ominous was that? Later he appeared on TV (hands not visible), words coming out of his mouth that he clearly did not want to say. As I type there are fears that the Chancellor remains under office arrest. The TV image swung from Darling in a tiny corner of his office to Gordo in a tiny flat. The Prime Minister, dressed for a funeral in a dark suit, was opening and closing his mouth like a fish (no “live” words allowed at a Gordo delaunch). He was mouthing at a tousled-haired man, presumably the flat-owner, who looked thoroughly alarmed.

The head of Hazel Blears (itself a terrifying object) kept popping in and out of shot.

How very modern to relaunch in a Ikea flat-pack kitchen without sound after imprisoning your Chancellor. My spy tells me that Mr Tousled had only a half-hour’s notice that the PM was joining him for a bowl of cereal (until then, he’d thought it was his MP). The poor guy had just moved in and hadn’t even unpacked. The visit lasted all of 15 minutes, still long enough for Gordon to say some real words (“live!”) on camera in front of the man’s kitchen cabinets. How very Everyman of Gordon.

Outside, plucky little Hazel rabbited away as the rain bucketed down. Can it get any worse? Expect another relaunch any day now.

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