WEIRD SCENES FROM MR BLAIR'S EXCITING NEW FUTURE

I never had any hope for reality television-even when I was a subject-and of course my last shards of hope for Tony Blair went out with the potato peelings several years ago. Nonetheless it is often the case that something very wonderful, or at least entertaining, can occur when terrible concepts collide. Jimmy Swaggart and prostitution come most readily to mind, but I'm sure that history is just full of such things.

Given that Mr Blair's core belief has been revealed to be that he believes that attention should be paid him, and if possible he should be taken seriously, it would appear inevitable that he shall move on to lecturing some subset of the electorate that once threatened to hold him in nearly universal esteem. Lectures to corporate stooges is the most often bandied likelihood-where he could explain how he, like his hero Bill Clinton, turned what was once the common man's party into just another business advocacy group-but I believe that Mr Blair will, like Mr Clinton, experience difficulty tearing himself away from the absurd vision of himself as a man of the people.

No, it really isn't possible that Mr Blair will be able to avoid reality television. Given his rather impressive CV it is unthinkable that he'll enter the realm as anything but the host, and given George Galloway's struggles to be taken seriously it's all but certain that the show must focus on Mr Blair's perceived area of expertise.

An afternoon show then, on which Mr Blair endeavours to convince carefully selected guests that some particular nation is on the verge of bombing London "in 45 minutes."

"The Lithuanians," he might say on opening afternoon, "have long been jealous of our beef…" The ponderous selections would then be free to ask whatever question they might be able to formulate, and the Lithuanian threat could be considered to the depths it deserves. Any contestants who failed to fall for it would be summarily voted off.

By the Hutton Commission, of course.

Well, this is fun, and there are lots and lots of possibilities for it. Let's say that one day some unemployed carpet specialist from Thirsk offered scepticism that the Armenian Empire was just then on the verge of deploying their newly conceived Gyptonian Devastator Missiles into Knightsbridge. Mr Blair would then turn his head somewhat sideways, return to proper position, narrow his eyes, struggle towards calming his follicles from sticking straight up into the air, and…well, he'd call on Patricia Hewitt, obviously.

She would in turn struggle to keep her eyes from exiting their sockets upwards, look down her venerable nose, and explain how one of her students-British schools having so steadfastly benefited from the reallocation of funds to buying time to explain the Home Office-had written a term paper on the quite nearly unavoidable disaster that could be the only result of GDMs landing on Jaguars.

Appearing almost quizzical, but with that practiced look of determination calculated to resemble at least Churchill's bin man, "It's the Italians this week, I'm afraid." After a few weeks the contestants might begin catching on, and go "But why would-"

"Because of Garibaldi, obviously!" A good host prides himself on anticipation, television time being as valuable as it is. Perhaps holding his hand aloft in a manner reminding at least himself of Kennedy, Mr Blair would explain that the terrible views of the deranged revolutionary who once vowed to "strangle the last king with the entrails of the last pope" had indeed turned his attentions towards our own Prince Charles.

"But Garibaldi's been dead for centuries, and Big Ears is hardly king, and you can't bloody well bomb Buckingham Palace with entrails then, can you?" would be the only possible response from the street fudge salesman of Penzance .

Hardly devastated, the host would recoil like a weasel contemplating an imploding pound cake "How dare you!" he might shriek, "when everyone knows that my very own wife is a Catholic, and I am too now that I don't have to stand in a Protestant electorate, and that Piccadilly Circus is well known throughout the world as a place that a Catholic might go?"

"But, but…um," the entrepreneur of a magnitude that hardly interests the host might stumble, "well, Italy is itself a Catholic nation, and besides, about entrail bombs-"

Fortuitously, the host's mobile would ring and it would be, yes, the Hutton Commission. "So sorry," the host would exude the purest sympathy known to either snail or casting couch, "you've just been voted off."

Of course, all great things must come to an end, as no less than Mr Blair has assured us repeatedly these past weeks. Ratings, I'm afraid. But what better life support than a guest co-host, a fallen star of comparable magnitude.

"I'm terribly pleased to co-host this afternoon's show with former President George W. Bush." And after a bit of confusion, "former President, of the United States . Now Mr Bush-"

"How the hell are ya' low-Tone!" (it's not a stretch that Mr Bush might fall back into the cups if anyone's ever able to explain what it is, generally, that he's accomplished)

"Well, today, as you know, there's a very, very real, well quite very serious threat to the United Kingdom . As you know, within 45 minutes bombs will be targeting the Battersea Power Station, launched from…"

The guest host has been considering this at some length. His factual recall, never a strong point, has deteriorated somewhat in the mists of what he considers something akin to the adoration he'd expected. He understands, however, that he is at this point required to provide the name of a nation, the problem being that he can't think of many, more than two actually. He would never name one as a threat to the United Kingdom , not after what that other host guy has done. " England !", he says with a toss of his head, utter confidence and more than a trace of disdain.

"Well, yeees," goes Tony, trying to decide if there's really any point in trying to go on at all.

Blair's an idiot, what else ya got on the political page?

enough political stuff, I want to go home .