WE know John Prescott as an old school bulldog – straight-talking, pugnacious and often rude. He likes to parade his blue-collar background and loyalty to his roots. He has always taken great pride in his 44-year marriage to Pauline.
In a triumph of understatement, he summoned up the meaningless cliché "devastated" to describe his wife's response to the newly-discovered details of his affair with Tracey Temple. "Incandescent" and "murderous" might have been nearer the mark. So too might "wrecked" or "completely wiped out".
The liaison started not long after Temple, now 43 to Prescott's 67, became one of his Whitehall secretaries. It went on for two years, and ended, he says, two years ago. Long enough ago for him to think he'd got away with it.
He must have thought, as many a weekly commuting man who plays away does, that he had successfully kept his wife and mistress in separate boxes. They would never even breathe the same air, much less be splashed across the newspapers as part of the same torrid story.
If anyone had dared to confront John Prescott with the potential for marital havoc presented by his affair with a member of his staff, he might have barked at them to mind their own business, and anyway, having fun with Tracey was in no way a threat to his marriage.
Sex with the secretary, he might bluster, had no bearing on relations with his wife. It's the rationale of the man who says he's got what makes him happy, but then takes more when it's offered, just because he can.
Pauline won't agree if he tries to argue that the Tracey thing meant nothing, and she will have a more formidable response to his disloyalty and her humiliation than the egg-thrower Prescott punched in Rhyl. Don't bet against handbags at dawn.
He no doubt felt he could lead a semi-detached kind of life in London, cavorting with Temple in lifts, at parties and at his grace-and-favour apartment, while Pauline probably thought poor John was working terribly long hours on affairs of state and must not be disturbed.
The life of a Whitehall wife was not her, even for a swanky flat at Admiralty Arch and even grander country estate. She has spent most of her time in Hull, living at their smart constituency home, and getting on with a relatively low-profile existence close to her family.
The former hairdresser appears by her husband's side at political or social events as required, but in general they are understood to spend a few days a week apart. His job, like those of many high-powered men, kept him far from home, spending much more time each week with staff – including diary secretary Tracey Temple – than with his wife.
He says now that he regrets the affair. Of course he does. What else would he say, now that he's been found out? Having seen the sorry evidence of photos showing Tracey cuddling up to him, hand on his ample girth, and Prezza the Buffoon swinging Tracey up into his arms with her legs practically over his shoulder, and after hearing colleagues' alleged accounts of them canoodling on a sofa in front of embarrassed colleagues, the Deputy Prime Minister looks a chump, an ass, a complete idiot.
Some men across the country might be thinking if Prescott can do it so can they. Many women are wondering what possible allure the paunchy and aggressive DPM can hold for a vivacious blonde who's already got a more presentable man of her own.
The world is full of unlikely-looking couples and, let's not forget, Pauline Prescott has seen enough in irascible John to keep her by his side for more than four decades. She knows something the rest of the world has tried and failed to discover. He certainly keeps his charm well-hidden.
With Cecil Parkinson and his liaison with secretary Sarah Keays, the fact of the affair was less surprising, given that the former Thatcher henchman was such a smoothy-chops. With David Blunkett and publisher Kimberly Quinn, it was reasonably easy to see how a woman would be attracted to his power, his drive and determination in the face of adversity, and his intellect.
In the absence of more information, the obvious explanation of Temple's attraction to Prescott is simply power, the ultimate aphrodisiac. Even though it was a relationship between consenting adults, choosing to have an affair with a junior member of his staff was an abuse of power by Prescott, though.
People have ill-advised affairs all the time, and, in some quarters they are more likely to happen than not. While Prescott's indiscretion leaves a dent in his marriage and a question mark about its survival, it does not, on the face of it, mean he is less able to govern competently.
But coming as it does during a bad week, a bad month, and a bad year for New Labour, the affair will play its part in further tarnishing the once-golden aura around the party.
sheena.hastings@ypn.co.uk