IT IS testament to Tony Blair’s enduring popularity — on this side of the Atlantic, at least — that when Georgetown University advertised 700 tickets for his speech yesterday, it had 1,000 applicants in an hour.

The Prime Minister appeared rather touched that so many students would want to hear what he had to say, instead of protesting, as they undoubtedly would have in Britain. He told them that he was young, once, and had other interests before politics, and that it might have been “more fun” if he had stuck to them. It was a joke that would have fallen flat back home but, here, he was the funniest man alive.

It was a similar story on Thursday night, when he stood shoulder to shoulder with George Bush at a White House press conference once more.

This trip to Washington, the first in almost a year, was a nostalgic routine for the two leaders. In their first summit at Camp David five long years ago, Mr Bush revealed that they shared the same brand of toothpaste. “People will wonder how you know that, George,” the Prime Minister said.

In their 20 or so summits since, this banter has evolved into a familiar double-act, in the ever-so-faintly homoerotic fashion of Morecambe and Wise. As ever, the President could not help but heap praise on the head of his straight man and ally who has always articulated the case for war better than he has himself. It was demonstrated when Mr Blair explained why insurgents are fighting so hard — saying that it was because they feared the Iraqi people wanted democracy and liberty — “those people fighting us know what is at stake. The question is, do we?”

Mr Bush stepped back, open-mouthed in admiration, and smiled like a football fan watching Pelé perform keepy-uppy. “If I might say, that was a great answer!” Mr Blair looked embarrassed, mumbling: “Yours was pretty good, too.”

The President then waxed on about “the amazing thing about dealing with the Prime Minister” before betraying his ignorance of Gordon Brown’s habitual dress by saying that he would “miss those red ties” when the time came for Mr Blair to go.

But then Mr Bush went too far, saying: “Don’t count him out. I know a man of resolve and vision and courage. And my attitude is, I want him to be here so long as I’m the President.” Mr Blair shifted uneasily, saying: “Well, what more can I say? Probably not wise to say anything more at all.”

Indeed, if there is one thing he does not need at present it is an endorsement for a full third term from Mr Bush, who is even more unpopular in Britain than he is in America.

Just why Mr Blair has still got such a fanclub in America when he has been so close to Mr Bush is, in part, because there is a recognition that his motives in invading Iraq were not necessarily the same as those of the President. In Washington one of the most commonly asked questions to visiting Britons is: “What made your Mr Blair do this to himself?” The answer is that he genuinely believed the removal of Saddam Hussein to be a moral cause that cannot be separated from issues of national security. With Mr Blair, the two have always gone hand in hand.

So, too — well almost — have the President and the Prime Minister. There was genuine pathos in this meeting of two lame-duck leaders. The root cause of their political problems is, of course, Iraq. They believe that the formation of a democratic government last week is a giant step in the right direction, but their introspective and retrospective remarks of contrition were suggestive of men seeking to justify their place in history.

Mr Bush admitted to “setbacks and missteps” and acknowledged the domestic opposition to the war he now faces. “The decision to remove Saddam Hussein from power was controversial. We did not find the weapons of mass destruction that we all believed were there — and that’s raised questions about whether the sacrifice in Iraq has been worth it.”

He said some of his language was misjudged. “Saying ‘Bring it on’ — kind of tough talk, you know — that sent the wrong signal to people. I learnt some lessons about expressing myself maybe in a little more sophisticated manner — you know, ‘Wanted dead or alive’, that kind of talk.” He added that America was paying a high price for the prisoner abuse scandal at Abu Ghraib.

Mr Blair said that he particularly regretted the broad decision to strip most members of Saddam Hussein’s Baath Party of their positions in government and civic life in 2003, leaving most institutions in Iraq shorn of expertise and leadership. “Some of the things that we thought were going to be the biggest challenges proved not to be, and some of the things we didn’t expect to be challenges at all proved immense.”

But then, in his final remark, Mr Blair came close to admitting that Iraq was never going to be a modern, functioning democracy and that, instead, the summit of his ambition was now merely to make the country better than it was before.

“There was a whole series of things in Iraq that were bound to come out once you got al-Qaeda and other groups operating in there to cause maximum destruction and damage. And therefore, I’m afraid, in the end we were always going have to be prepared for the fall of Saddam, not the rise of democratic Iraq.”

But the President appeared to have stopped listening. “Can I buy you dinner?” he asked. “Certainly,” replied Mr Blair.

So off they went, perhaps for the last time.

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