Why won’t the Blairs just go away?

Tony and Cherie Blair
We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for all the little people

I’m afraid the Blairs are beginning to feel a bit like a regrettable drunken encounter that just won’t go away.

Cherie’s opinions on parenting are in danger of undermining her more serious goat-herding work, and Tony seems to be spending his time in between denying stuff at inquiries, dying his hair. Not that I’m attacking men’s rights to be as concerned about their appearance as women can be. Nor am I suggesting that Cherie doesn’t have as much right to talk rubbish as any man, but am I struggling to remember what I initially found compelling about them. They haven’t changed they’ve always been like this. It must be me I’ve sobered up and moved on.

In 1997 many of us got a little drunk (I’m warming to this metaphor now, so bear with me) on the glee of getting shot of the Tories after 18 years, which explains why we saw the Blairs with our beer goggles on. Then there was War on Terror, Peter Foster, Hutton inquiry, Carole Caplin and all those piles of book deals/lecture tours cash. Now I just don’t have any respect for them.

Apparently Tony wants us to take him back saying he’d like to be PM again, but even he is willing to admit it’s “not likely to happen”. Deep down even he knows you should never go back to an ex. It just gets messy.


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