To Thatcher, a son

October 1, 1997

Tony Blair in Brighton yesterday gave the best speech Baroness Thatcher never made. Gone was the waffle of Opposition. Control of audience and occasion was complete. So, too, was the deference paid to the -ism that still hovers over British politics, the -ism that dare not speak its name.

A tale of two Blairs

June 16, 1999

So now you know. The message is clear. The British people are happy with Tony Blair and feel no need to vote for him. Or they are unhappy with him and refuse to vote for him. Got that? They decided to abstain on Labour's pro-euro wait-and-see stance, or to abstain on the Tories' anti-euro wait-and-see stance. Put another way, the European elections were an absolute stunner, or reflect deep apathy. The Tories are surging back, or the public could not give a damn. All this is called political science. If it is science, then the laboratory is three newts short of a cauldron.

A second term at No 10

May 8, 2001

Tell me you love me. Tell me you really love me. Get up on tippy toes and kiss me and tell me I am gorgeous and clever and popular and that you will love me for ever and to bits. Go on. Do it, everyone. Please.

No man is an island, except maybe Tony Blair

October 2, 2002

Tony Blair's speeches have vastly improved since he abandoned Labour. Yesterday he demolished pacifists, lefties, backsliders and wimps alike. His key ingredient was a definable enemy, the Labour Party. Mr Blair is emerging as a Tory radical in the style of Disraeli.

Rows, sulks, plots, chaos at the top. Is this Britain, or is it Animal Farm?

Wednesday January 12, 2005

So Gordon Brown routinely says to Tony Blair: “There is nothing you could ever say to me now that I could ever believe.” Mr Blair habitually retorts: “You wouldn’t work with me.”

Blair wants history to judge him, but the police are first in line

February 4, 2007

In such cases I always recommend defenestration. The public loves it. Wrestle the victim up the Downing Street stairs, open the sash, a quick push, a scream and splat. History dusts its suit, straightens its tie and goes back to work.

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