Nailed

Tony Blair has a phosphorescent quality. He is a will-o’-the-wisp, an emanation of rotting marsh gas that flares and glimmers in the dark, leading stray travellers into deeper and deeper mires. His power is almost supernatural. He managed to lead an entire party into supporting policies that were utterly alien to its nature; he took a movement that had once been proud to feel itself socialist, and made it into a fervent supporter of low taxes, private finance initiatives, and people getting filthy rich.