Sir John Chilcot: don’t argue with us, it bloody is.
Human embodiment of the abyss staring back at you, Tony Blair, has gone to Sir John Chilcot’s remote manor house along with Alastair Campbell, Clare Short, General Sir Michael Jackson, and other former senior politicians and military figures to find out which if them is guilty of mass-murder most foul.
After a long dinner expected to be interrupted only by the revelation that two of the guests are long-lost siblings and then a power cut during which gun fire will be heard everyone will gather in the billiard room to hear Sir John Chilcot’s verdict.
“I ‘ave been working my leetle grey cells on this problem for many years, mes amies,” said the mustachioed inquiry chairman. “Tony don’t look so tense, those are the only cells we need. Others, especially those at the Hague will remain, ‘ow do you say eet, totally empty because this is an outrageous whitewash, n’est pas?”
As Sir John hones his monologue which is thought to be over 2.7 million words long the smart money is on him laying the blame for the Iraq war and the rise of Isis firmly at the feet of a million dead Iraqi civilians and an unfeasibly large spaniel that once looked at him funny.
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