IT IS appropriate today, in the tradition of Private Eye magazine, to begin with an apology. Regular readers of this column over the years (both of them) might have been left with the impression that Jacques Chirac, President of France, is a bounder, a cad, an opportunist devoid of consistent principle, an ostentatious fraud and an enormous obstruction to the cause of progress not merely in his home country, but across an entire continent and, at times, the whole world. A reasonable reader might deem, from the words often offered here, that he is, in short, good for absolutely nothing.

Mais non. Admittedly by accident, not design, M Chirac has, this morning, raised himself to the status of the immortals. By his shameless attempt to bounce his nation into endorsing an EU constitution for which it had scant enthusiasm, for the sheer ineptitude of the administration over which he (periodically) assumes authority, and thanks to the hysterical character of the campaign that he has conducted over the past few weeks, the French President has doomed the very text that he sought to impose and saved the EU from the stagnation that its provisions threatened.

At Verdun in 1916 France was rescued by a commander who declared of his German enemy “they shall not pass”. Almost nine decades later the population of France has liberated itself by repudiating a politician who had declared “thou shall pass this, or else”.

And what the French have beaten to within an inch of its life, the citizens of the Netherlands will surely finish off on Wednesday. There could be no more awesome condemnation of the direction that the EU has taken for the past two decades than that the Dutch — the most cosmopolitan, the most internationalist, the most tolerant participants in that body for nearly 50 years — should be cast as Brutus. Let us not mince words. Another “no” verdict would not be murder by irrational voters. It would represent a mercy killing.

On these pages last week, Magnus Linklater, a kindly soul, professed to see much to praise in the words that were put before the people of France and rejected. He claimed that they were a model of clarity and coherence. He made his case in an elegant and eloquent manner. I fear he was misguided. In fairness, his assertion was predicated on the “summary” of the tome drawn up in Brussels. To assess any EU entity on the basis of its summary is, however, an optimistic exercise. Not merely the Devil but the realm of Hell itself lies in the details — or the lack of them. If Magnus can truly divine clarity in this constitution, then I have a cup of tea leaves for him to interpret.

I have no objection to the notion of a constitution for the European Union. Indeed, I can envisage much value in the concept. This does not mean that I, or anyone else, must sing the praises of anything that calls itself an EU constitution. Treaties should be considered on their merits. This one is fatally flawed by three features.

The first comes courtesy of its authors. It was devised by a grotesque carnival of a constitutional convention. A ludicrously large collection of fanatics, flunkies and functionaries — a Field of the Cloth of Fools’ Gold — struggled to shape a document in their own image. This pompous forum was personified by Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, a man compared with whom, unbelievably, even M Chirac does not seem so imperious. Their volume was handed over solemnly to heads of governments who had little choice but to haggle over a few points and amend incrementally at the edges.

This might not have mattered much if the constitution had some literary charm to it. It does not. Jeffrey Archer has crafted more compelling prose and a more plausible narrative. The constitution manages the rare feat of being excessively long and disturbingly ambiguous, simultaneously. It is a cross between the Berlin telephone directory and the prophecies of Nostradamus. Even if every French adult had read it cover to cover they would still have few clues what it meant or stood for. I have been professionally obliged to download several versions of this monstrosity as it went through its many manifestations. Despite that effort, it remains a mystery.

Which, in a sense, it was meant to be. This is a constitution that the citizens of Europe were meant to salute and not to scrutinise. It is laced with the assumption that all that those who live in the EU need to know about this institution is that it is “a good thing”. To have proceeded with this enterprise despite rising popular antipathy towards Brussels everywhere (even in Belgium) was the height of arrogance. At last, this elite has been held accountable by an electorate.

It will shortly fall to Tony Blair to be less the president of the EU than its pathologist. As a Francophile to the fingertips but a Chiracphobe to the core, the Prime Minister must be secretly celebrating at this outcome. It is a pity that his back has been painful of late, it will have rendered laughing his socks off less pleasurable. Yet there are lessons he must learn from the French President's folly.

When he examines the wreckage of this referendum result, Mr Blair should reach five conclusions. The first is that there is nothing of the old blueprint that can be salvaged. The second is that any successor should be framed by a committee consisting of elected individuals from each member state — not aides, civil servants or supposed elder statesmen. The third is that it must be a less philosophical, more practical undertaking. The fourth is that, as a guide, any fresh version should be no more than 5,000 words in length in any EU language. Finally, as far as possible, it should be submitted to the voters of every EU nation for approval.

By such means, Europe might find a constitution worthy of the name and one capable of mustering public approval. This would, paradoxically, be Jacques Chirac's one lasting political memorial.

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