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CounterPunch
February
10, 2003
Dossier? What
Dossier
Blair's in the Doghouse
by LINDA HEARD
Didn't your parents tell you not to kick a dog
when he's down? Of course they did and yet you lot persist in
hounding our Tone over something as silly as an intelligence
dossier. Ridiculous!
That dossier was one of the finest documents
ever to come out of Number 10. How do I know? The 'Master of
the Universe's' Bull Mastiff called it 'exquisite'. What more
do you want? Ok, so it was 12 years old. So what?
All right, I hear you. Part of it was
plagiarized. It was lifted off the web. In fact, most of it was,
but my sources tell me that Tony's press secretary Alistair Campbell
is unfairly in the soup. Stop cribbing will you. There was a
far bigger intellect than his behind the fiasco of the file.
Between you and me...Sssh!...M15 is on
strike. Those intelligence chappies, earning a mere... Oh, sorry
classified... heard that the Lord Chancellor's entertainment
allowance was more than theirs and took off to the cocktail circuits
of Chechnya and Kazakhstan. MI6 have all grown beards, and are
pretending to be terrorists in northern Iraq. So what's a poor
PM supposed to do? I ask you.
There he was, ordered to produce a 'top
secret' intelligence dossier prior to Powell's presentation to
the UN, when, lo and behold, the Bonds had all buggered off.
They're never around when you need them.
First, he did what he always does and
called his press secretary. His trusty spinmeister would come
to the rescue. But Mr. Campbell was lunching with the editor
of ...Oops! Classified again. Poor Tony cast around for someone
who could throw him a bone when Cherie came to mind. Then he
remembered. She was working out with her best friend Carole.
You know the one with the conman boyfriend.
Eureka, thought Blair. I'll ask Jeffrey
Archer. He'll know about the Iraqis. Nope. He's too busy with
champagne parties, scrubbing the toilets, and writing his memoirs
in his open jail. John le Carre. Nah! Too hung up about a little
harmless depleted uranium. Ramsey Clarke's an Iraqi apologist.
Scott Ritter's embroiled in sex scandals. Tony Benn's joining
Al Jazeera and George Galloway has the gall to accuse me of being
Sykes, or is it Picot? I know. I'll call Gordon. Better not.
He's after my job.
Then came the call. It was the patient
man himself. "Where's that file? You'd better not be shirking
again. Remember. We are God's gift to the world. We must wage
a crusade against evil people who are jealous of our freedoms.
You are either with us or ... er!...with what's 'is name.. umm!...
well, you know who I mean... him with the cigar. I'm warning
you to cooperate buddy. You don't want to be stuck with the old
Europe crowd and be called irrelevant do you?"
"No, No, I mean, Yessir Mr. President,
sir", answered Tony. "It'll be on your desk tomorrow
without fail."
"I'm counting on it. Now you don't
let us down now boy. There'll be no more invites to Crawford
if you do. God bless America and have a nice day".
So there was Tony at his desk, head in
hands, fearful of being persona non grata in the hallowed halls
of Washington, with nobody to help out.
That is until Gertrude Tolpuddle, the
tea lady walked in with his biscuits and Earl Grey. Askance at
seeing the Prime Minister in an un-groomed state, she patted
him on the head murmuring, 'there, there now. Wassa matter wid
yer? Tell Aunty Gertie. There's a good boy" A motherly type,
she undid his collar and fed him a cookie.
He hesitated, and then broke down. Everybody
was against him, he wailed. The world called him a poodle. The
Pope and the Anglican bishops had ganged up on him. The French
President said he was the rudest person he had ever met. The
Unions, the firemen, his backbenchers, and the public were all
dissenters, and now he was in danger of losing his promised seat
on the board of Carlyle next to his friend John Major. How could
he produce a damning dossier proving Iraq had weapons of mass
destruction in just one day all on his own, he barked.
But all was not lost. Tony's offspring
Euan was in the next room working on his computer. He was in
the midst of searching for property to include in his growing
portfolio, when he overheard the pater's dilemma.
"Hey Dad. I'll do you the mother
of all reports on Saddam Hussein and his WMDs. Never fear. Euan
is here." And before you could say 'propaganda', the 'exquisite
dossier' was born and life at number 10 went back to normal.
That is until... well, you know the rest.
Not to be outdone, Saddam's son Uday
is at this very minute googling away to produce the definitive
memoranda on the state of Britain's trains, schools, and hospitals.
He hopes to have it ready by the end of the decade when he will
deliver it to Number 10 along with his asylum application.
Thanks to insider information, gleaned
from Sid who works at Sainsbury's, we have an addendum to the
sorry saga. Sid delivers Cherie's groceries, and tells me that
Tony is hiding out in their Downing Street basement. Gertie brings
him regular buckets of ice to cool down his red face, Euan fends
off breach of copyright suits, while Cherie works the phones.
Cherie: "Hi there! Is that you George?
Has Laura rescheduled that poetry meeting yet? Tony? Tony is
in an undisclosed location at the moment. Any message?"
The Patient Man: "Aaaaaagh!"
There are naked ladies outside my window clamoring for love,
not war. Laura's ran off to join them. Any idea how I can get
hold of Bill?"
Linda Heard
is a specialist writer on Middle East affairs. She can be reached
at: freenewsreport@yahoo.com
Today's Features
Linda Heard
Powell
at the UN: Spiel, Stunts and Special Effects
Anthony Gancarski
Peggy
Noonan, Space Case
The Columbia and the Manufacture of Tragedy
Robert Fisk
You Wanted
to Believe Him: Powell Does Beckett
Robert Jensen
Powell
at the UN:
Smoking Guns and Big Guns
William Hughes
Colin
Powell's Big Flop
Ali Abunimah
Dissecting Powell's Speech:
Hearsay and Old Allegations
Phyllis Bennis
Powell vs. Blix
The Case for War Remains Unmade
Rahul Mahajan
Responding
to Colin Powell
Is This All You've Got?
Paul de Rooij
Where Are the Incubators, Gen. Powell?
Website of the Day
Iraq:
the War Game
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