When times were tough for Tone ...

So, it's all hands to the campaign trail, again. Eh?

Seeing Tony Blair speaking today -- going for another oscar, it seemed -- reminded me of other performances of his. And while this true tale may be news to many, it's not to lots like me. Ask dear Cherie. Not long ago, she actively helped him spread this particular piece of nonsense. Not quite as dramatic as the WMD debacle. Nor the famous 45 minute farce. Yet just as revealing.

Visiting a temporary refuge for the homeless -- TV cameras in tow of course -- she stopped to speak to a man. A young man. A man of the Blairs' 21st century Britain. But this was an Englishman who had no home to call his castle.

"Tony knows what it's like to be homeless," Cherie lied. With her familiarly pained yet sincerely straight, face.

However, what she carefully avoided mentioning were the actual details of said spouse's homelessness. So I'll do it for her. Right here and now.

When Blair stepped from the train for the first time as a student, to stay in London, it was getting late in the day. But, hey! He was young. He was fit & strong. He had a sleeping bag, and the weather wasn't too bad. Anyhow, this was a bit of an adventure, wasn't it? What the heck? He'd sort out some digs in the morning. Everything would be fine. He wasn't a lumberjack but he was alright.

So, he slept beneath the stars. In his sleeping bag. In a park. For one night. Then did sort out digs next morning.

That, my friends, is how our fearless leader learned: "what it's like to be homeless".

Ugh. Would someone please pass the puke bucket.

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© 2005 Richard Morrison