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In The News

Has Tony Blair Gone Blind?
(surely ‘blond’? Ed)

by Our BBC Staff Sir Christopher Blond

IT’s the question they’re all asking at Westminster. Can the Prime Minister really have decided to go blind?

His recent appearance on a BBC news programme provided conclusive proof that he can no longer see anything that is going on in Britain.

When answering questions about crime, health, education, transport and sleaze, the Prime Minister seemed completely unable to focus.

Bad Blair Day

“I can’t see anything wrong myself,” he told an interviewer. “Everything looks fine to me.”

Blond Blair

The Tell-Tale Picture


by Our Entire Staff Phil Supplement

AS A mark of respect, the entire nation carried on as normal yesterday, after the death was announced of Her Royal Highness Princess Margaret.

“It is just like Diana all over again,” said no one, as two small bouquets of flowers were laid at the palace railings by newspaper photo-graphers desperate for some kind of a picture to mark the occasion.

Flags flew at half-mast, cathedral bells sounded muffled peals and millions of ordinary people failed to observe a minute’s silence as they queued to get into their local supermarket.

Was She The World’s Most
Talented Woman?

asks Paul Johnson

PRINCESS Margaret had the misfortune to be born a princess. It was a truly tragic fate which denied her the chance to excel in almost any walk of life she might have chosen.

Those of us who had the privilege of knowing her were constantly in awe at the extraordinary range of her talents and learning.

She could easily, for instance, have been an Oxford don, and had read almost every book printed in the English language.

The Bible she knew by heart, and had it not been for her sex, she would have been a strong candidate to become the first female Archbishop of Canterbury.

Her wit was legendary, and she was often compared to Oscar Wilde, Dorothy Parker and TV’s Alan Coren.

“Who’s that common little man with a cigar?” she once asked, pointing at Sir Winston Churchill.

Anyone who heard her play Chopsticks would have known at once that she had formidable gifts as a pianist which, had fate decreed otherwise, could have put her up alongside Artur Rubinstein or Vladimir Horovitz.

And that is to ignore her wonderful singing. She knew all the songs from the shows, and could be prevailed upon at a soiree to sing “Wouldn’t it be luvverly” in an amusing cockney voice.

She was furthermore probably the greatest 20th Century expert on classical ballet, and her gift for smoking was (cont’d. p. 94)