Blair On Trial

Last night I steered me little vessel as close as I could get to England, so I could pick up a bit of their telly. My reason was to see the much plugged TV drama "The Trial of Tony Blair." It portrayed the dismal experience of post-Prime Minister Blair. Nobody wants to know him, his memoirs are recognised as the grandiose meanderings of a fantasist and he is in danger of being extradited for war crimes, as a result of his illegal actions during the invasion and occupation of Iraq. It made for compelling, if uncomfortable, viewing. I actually began to feel quite sorry for the man as his world collapsed around him. The magnificent actor, Robert Lindsey, played Blair with an unworldly pathos - his grandiosity and helplessness dragging him further and further down. In one scene a policeman makes a remark about the suffering of the Iraqi people - Blair responds "Oh, great - a politically motivated policeman." The copper answered, "No sir, just a human being."

Now, I have no intention of spoiling this excellent drama by saying any more about the plot, but it was an interesting excerise, exploring the possible (if not very likely) scenario whereby Blair is called to account for his involvement in the deaths of thousands of Iraqis. Certainly, the plot was a bit far-fetched and the characterisations a little melodramatic - but for all that it was compelling viewing.

And it addressed the barren landscape of Blair's post-PM life. This brings to mind the question of his life after Downing street. What will he do, I wonder? I wouldn't be surprised if he eventually went to live in America - at least there some people like him.

Legacy Of Lies

Poor old Tony Blair is showing the strain of his distasterous and shabby policy of supporting Bush in the effort to conquer the middle east. His famous grin seems increasingly threadbare and his face has become drawn and haggard - he is a man who has aged terribly and does not bear it well.

His efforts to be remembered for something, anything, other than the mess he has created in Iraq appear ever more desperate. For several days his tetchy response to a reporter who pressd him to condemn the disgraceful way in which Saddam's execution was managed was shown and reshown on european TV news. Meanwhile his party look forward to his departure so that they can replace him with someone less unpopular. The worst kind of abandonment for a politician is when the nay-saying voices are coming from behind him on the parliamentary benches.

But behind all the one-liners and false smiles, I am beginning to detect a note of sadness in him. Perhaps this is to do with guilt, or shame maybe. Or, of course, it could be my imagination. But he has begun to look uncomfortable. I wonder whether the facade has become more difficult for him as Iraq has become an ever greater disaster. "Brains" in Washington is clearly untroubled by such things - but Blair certainly has more humanity and intelligence than Bush.

Could we be witnessing the beginning of a change in Tony Blair? If he is as moral as he likes to pretend, then he must think about what he has done from a moral perspective. It is difficult to imagine such thoughts resulting in anything other than guilt and shame.

Hearing Voices...

I was forced to reacquaint myself with dry land yesterday, so that me old radio could get the once-over from a repair man. It hasn't been itself since I accidentally poured some coffee on it a month or two ago. Glad to say, she's righter than rain now, having had a small surgery and a bit of TLC.

While all of this was happening, I took a jaunt into the city (no names, no pack-drill) to see what was what. To my delight, I ran into an old friend - a lady from the US, who I last spoke to three years ago. We went for a jar and a bite to eat and talked about old times for a bit. Eventually (inevitably) the conversation got around to current affairs and, more precisely, the occupation of Iraq. Although I am usually quite fast to criticise the chump with his oily finger on the button, I was a little more reserved than usual - seeing as how my pal is an American an' all. So when I mentioned Bush, I did so in a questioning way rather than with my usual barrage of invective. Her response was interesting - and it is something I have noticed before in my American friends. Quiet embarrassment. She, sort of, shook her head grimly and expressed her utter bewilderment at the situation her country has gotten itself into.

Like most outside observers, she says that she was worried about Bush from the outset, and she said that even people she knows who initially liked him are now appalled by his ridiculous antics. What stunned her (and, I must say, this is something I hear a lot) was that he won the second term so convincingly. She finds it hard to believe that millions of her fellow citizens looked at what he had done during the first four years, said "we need some more of this" and voted for him.

It has often seemed to me that most Americans were stunned by the 9/11 atrocity - it had never occurred to them that they were so hated. Likewise, Bush's re-election was a shock - it had never occurred to them that he was so liked.

She also noted that although the war is very unpopular, not so many folk are out protesting against it (although, of course, some brave souls do). What might this mean, I wonder? Could it be that Americans have given-up on social activism? Or have they, on some level, adopted a 'patriotic' stance, where it might be viewed as unseemly for them to protest while "the boys and girls in uniform" are at risk? I really don't know.

What I do know for sure - and meeting my friend reaffirmed this - is that there are millions of Americans who oppose Bush and his shabby crusade. How or whether that will translate into anything which might give hope to those under occupation remains to be seen. But it is clear that this anti-war sentiment is in no way a cohesive force, in the way that "the movement" was in the Vietnam era. Only time will tell, I suppose - but the voices of the American dissenters can be heard if you listen, though sometimes you have to ask.

The Villagers Storm The Castle...

Once in a while, when I'm not far off land, I yoke me old portable TV up to the generator and give the airwaves a spin, to see what's to be had for a night's entertainment. Tonight I gave this a try and managed to tune-in to a station showing Boris Karloff's Frankenstien. To celebrate such a rare and wonderful find I broke open the good biscuits and allowed meself two of the decent cigars I keep safe in the bottom of me old map box, in a little metal tin with a drawing of a panther on it. I added a generous jug of rum to the mix and snuggled in close to the stove. What a great film it is! And how timely, in these terrible moments, to remember the nature of monsters. Y'see monsters sometimes arrive fully formed, ready for awfulness from their first breath. But more usually they are made. Created. Sure, the raw materials have to be there - an inclination, a potential. But it requires circumstance, or experience or a deliberate effort - sometimes a mix of these - to truly create a monster. And when, in the film, the villagers arrive at the castle with flaming torches, full of fury, I often find myself feeling sorry for the monster, the creation. I reason that he is what he was made. The real monster is the one who made him, the one who gave him life.

As I said, a timely lesson on the nature of monsters.

Now it seems like time for me to stub out the last of this stogie and get me head on the pillow, for the clouds look stormy and the seas are choppy. I'll get me sleep while I can.