Consider the dichotomy and the dislocation here. For over two weeks we've been trying to decide who, around and about No 10, lied to or economically misled the great British press. Alastair, Godric, Mrs B? The usual cover-up carnival. Unless, apparently, we're told the whole truth in every minute detail, Downing Street can never be trusted again: a fount of rancid stories tainted by evasion, duplicity, puppydogs' tails may be solemnly rejected. This could be the end of everything. Moral stomp-out time.
Meanwhile, from an air- or seaport near you, more of our boys - like many, many more of Uncle Sam's - are heading for the Gulf. Is it peace or war? Is the evidence there, the link of prospective mass destruction? Better go off and ask a "senior intelligence source". Better call on the Ministry of Defence when you leave Number 10; or wander down the Embankment to MI5. Or maybe meet up in the snug at the usual club, old son?
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