| |
|
But he insisted the deteriotrating coverage of political reporting in particular had "sapped the country's confidence and self-belief"
To be fair to the big T, at least he seems prepared to acknowledge that something has.
I like to think that whoever wrote that for him was dying of laughter, but I dare say he was flying solo on this mission.
Why won't he just kill himself?
It wouldn't have to happen live on television (for all that might be preferable); he could do it in the bathtub at Chequers, or wherever, he could do it on the sofa in Downing Street, like Thomas Chatterton in the famous painting, but one way or the other, he really ought to be dressed in nothing but a cheap Scary Clown t-shirt, with the words "I F***ed Up, Didn't I? I Totally F***ed Up!' written in blood across the places where his man breasts and beer gut are. The coroners would no doubt find 'Iraq' tattooed on his heart. And this most media-friendly of all politicians would almost certainly want a state funeral, so the general public would be invited in to stub out fags and throw beer, and generally go ASBO on the Blair remains. Of which after a couple of hours there'd be very little left.
Or perhaps that's a bit harsh. I suppose, though, that we can expect a lot more forceful statements about what's wrong with everyone else in the next few weeks, seeing as they'll be coming from an essentially C-list Prime Minister, who's now slowly waking up to the realisation that it's been ten years of pretty much unprecedented economic growth, and what has he done ... and is consequently, desperately, trying to cover his arse. Or secure his legacy, if you'd rather. An analogy might be a footballer who, having wandered about the pitch in a fairly aimless manner for eighty-odd minutes, starts trying to foul the other players in the last five, hoping that this'll get him off the hook with the fans. And the management. And posterity. |
|
|
