That's Mister Tony Blair to you
I realise I am pretty much the only person left in this country with any time for Tony Blair. What is it with me and Tone? I was telling the old ball and chain (hi, baby) about the spontaneous standing ovation he received in a hotel in San Francisco and my bottom lip actually started to go. I was a couple of shandies to the good (or bad), but even so, there's no excuse. Later, on the news, I saw him make a speech about the situation in the Middle East, pretty much the same speech he made before the war in Iraq, absolutely in his element as a politician, with a huge great bloody mess to sort out, and I fell for it all a second time. Fuck me, what a Statesman! Go Tony, go! Even his toe-curling banter with Arnold Schwarzenegger put a smile on my face. As you can imagine, I am dinner party gold: when Tony takes a pasting, I step in. And even I'm not convinced, anymore, by the words that come out of my mouth. I guess you're right: he's either an idiot or a liar. But undeterred, I plough on. Most people stop digging when the hole gets too deep. For me, it's a bigger spade.