Thursday 7 August 2008

Blair Punches Air

Listening to the radio this morning, a wholly unexpected thought crossed my mind - one I never imagined I'd find myself thinking any time before the crack of doom. 'Maybe,' the thought was, 'that Gordon Broon chap isn't so bad after all.' What occasioned this alarming aberration was an item looking back to the dark day when London 'won' the 2012 Olympics. A voice, at once familiar and strange, came eerily out of the ether. It was Tony Blair, demotic glottal stops honed and ready for action. 'Y'know,' he said, 'it's no' of'en in this job you ge' to punch the air an' do a li''le dance.' Indeed, indeed... How soon we forget the horror of Blair in simpering populist mode. Oor Gordon would not have punched the air - a colleague, possibly, or a stapler (he was recently reported to have driven a staple into his finger in the course of a tanty) - and oor Gordon would have nae truck wi' dancing. There are ways in which there are worse things than Gordon Brown, and this morning's chilling blast from the past amply demonstrated one of them.


  1. Nige, you must forgive Anthony, he's not himself at the moment, apparently he asked the Israelite's to go back to Egypt and they refused. Refused mark you, and this after he had produced his finest sermon to date. Mrs Anthony will doubtless crayon another book. Sauron is a horse of a different colour, ashen grey I am told, as the result of catching Millyput in the bog reading a copy of backstabbers monthly, whilst Harriet performed the usual services. That very same afternoon he observed Straw handing a brown envelope to Ballsey.
    Things can only get better.
    Much safer on your blog today, the other blokes is full of chatter from the bear pit observation society.

  2. A disturbing image there, Malty...