Somkid Jatusripitak might have beaten a quick retreat from his offer to be Premier Surayud Chulanont's "spokesman to the outside world" when he announced his decision to withdraw from the post yesterday. But the brief Surayud-Somkid "incident" did underscore the fact that things will never be quite the same on the political landscape.

It isn't clear when Premier Surayud told himself that he had had enough of people calling him a "political novice" - and, worse, a "wimp" - behind his back. Four months into his "reluctant premiership", he seems to have decided to take on rough-and-tumble politics with a vengeance.

Surayud took everybody - perhaps even himself - by surprise when he named Somkid Jatusripitak, the former number-two man under Thaksin Shinawatra, to head a task force dealing with "foreign economic relationships" - a euphemism for a worldwide campaign to debunk "Thaksinomics" in favour of the "sufficiency theory".

Getting even politically probably never factored into his plans. But what about giving Thaksin a taste of his own medicine? Why not - especially when Somkid came knocking at the door, offering his services? Somkid, of course, had his own personal agenda. He was looking for a chance to regain his credibility in the political arena. He was hoping that his presence in the Surayud government, with or without any real authority, would give him a political facelift.

There was little doubt that Somkid's main objective was to detach himself from the "old power clique". He desperately needs to officially dissociate himself from the political brand he has inextricably been linked to: Thaksinomics.

Insiders, of course, had known all along that during the final months of the Thaksin regime, Somkid had let it be known among members of the inner circle that he no longer considered himself a "Thaksin lieutenant". But then, the biggest taint on his political record - which has come back to haunt him now - is that he didn't have the guts to break away from Thaksin when the protest movement was anxiously waiting for every little sign of his support falling apart.

Somkid could have provided that vital final push had he declared a retreat from the frontline. However reluctant he claimed to have been while hanging in there, Somkid missed his once-in-a-lifetime chance to become an alternative premier once Thaksin was forced to step down at the height of the country's most potent political protest in years. This time round, Somkid was seen as entertaining that ultra-sensitive ambition once again - one that he would never admit: positioning himself so that he could contest the premiership once the new power game begins in earnest in the next few months.

Didn't Prime Minister Surayud realise that people might regard these recent developments as Somkid exploiting the premier so that he could stage his political comeback? Of course, he did, but then Surayud probably convinced himself that the opposite was in fact more accurate.

Surayud, in other words, plunged himself into "Realpolitik" - politics based on strictly practical rather than ideological notions and practised without any "sentimental illusions". Ironically perhaps, because he was never a politician, Realpolitik - amoral politics aimed solely to achieve goals even by devious means - might not have sounded all that repugnant.

Deep down, Premier Surayud may even blame the growing public pressure on him to show his brutal side against Thaksin for nudging him into this manipulative mode. "Who's better than someone in the previous government to explain the merits of the present government's sufficiency policy?" he asked, with a knowing smile.

With that telltale expression, the premier could have said: "And you guys had always thought I was a greenhorn in this game, right?"

For Surayud, it's a high-risk gamble. For Somkid, it's a "back-from-hell" game. He had nothing much else to lose. And if things didn't turn out as they have, it could have ended up a win-win situation for both.

But then, there was a price to pay. Somkid couldn't possibly have jumped onto the Surayud bandwagon without issuing a "mea culpa" - a public confession of sin, so to say.

Mea Culpa is a Latin phrase that translates into English as "my fault" or "my own fault". For Somkid, there may be the need to add the adjective "maxima" - "mea maxima culpa" which translates as "my most (grievous) fault".

In popular usage, the expression "mea culpa" has acquired a more direct meaning, in which, by proclaiming a "mea culpa", someone admits to having made a mistake through his own fault. In other words, it could have been avoided if that person had been more diligent or more responsive to public demands for ethics and transparency. In modern American vernacular, people often say: "It's my bad." A popular song had these famous words: "I made a mistake. I did it before. I'm not going to do it again. Mea Culpa."

Somkid didn't have a chance to even make a public gesture of repentance to disown Thaksin. When he finally delivered his public statement yesterday, it wasn't an apology. It wasn't a confession. He did try to dissociate himself from Thaksin but even as he tried to impress upon the public that he was breaking away from his former boss, Somkid failed miserably to live up to expectations of a good segment of Thai society: he refused to give Thaksinomics a public burial.

The "revelation" was too little too late. The statement clearly lacked courage and commitment. For those who know Somkid well, that came as no surprise at all.