I Have A Nightmare About Tony [blair]

My Aunty Says I'm The Double Of My Father. He Was A Workaholic, Which I've Definitely Inherited. And Like Me, He Could Be The Life And Soul Of The Party, But Also Quite Withdrawn.

My Closest Friend, Who Died Not Long Ago, Is Buried Near Marx's Grave In Highgate Cemetery, So I See The Gaggle Of Admirers Laying Roses At The Foot Of His Tombstone Regularly. I Have Never Been Tempted To Leave Flowers There Myself. Great Theories, Shame About The Practice. Marx Did Many Things. But Inventing Class Was Not One Of Them.

For All That The Papers Would Say I Was A Liar, I Took The Words I Was Saying At Briefings As Seriously As Tony Blair Took What He Would Say At The Despatch Box. I Find It Very Difficult Not To Tell The Truth. I Felt I Was Accountable For What I Said.

The Day Of The Daredevil Reporter Who Refuses To See Obstacles To Getting The Truth, And Seeing It With His Or Her Own Eyes, Seems To Have Died.

I Had A Happy Childhood.