Following Sir Christopher Meyer’s review of George Bush’s Decision Points, here is the other half of the double act.
The closest I’ve come to meeting Tony Blair was knocking into Michael Sheen on the street. I got no closer reading Blair’s memoir, most of which is beyond parody. Cherie Booth QC is a strong armed nocturnal adventuress; Anji Hunter is a bountiful babe; and Mr Blair is a would-be Casanova with a taste for premonitions and Schindler’s List.
You barely notice New Labour’s reform programme under the torrent of erratic writing and bizarre digressions. The defence of the Iraq war is cumbersome; the sketches of his allies and adversaries too thin to warrant interest: ‘strange man’ is the best Blair can do on Brown, even from the detached safety of print.
For the most part, A Journey is a mundane confessionary – I did this; we wanted that; Peter was there etc.
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