Political sketch: Tony virtuoso

The former PM effortlessly charmed Leveson and Robert Jay.

It wasn't the Hague, it wasn't even the Old Bailey - but it was a court and it had a dock and in it a man with his hand on a bible prepared to admit he was Anthony Charles Lynton Blair.

He turned up looking suitably smart and tanned as befits an international jet-setter and former Prime Minister taking time off from his world-peace day job.

And so it was totally in keeping when an uninvited accuser equally, if more casually well-dressed, popped in to accuse him of war crimes in the sort of modulated voice that suited the occasion.

The sudden appearance of David Lawley-Wakelin caused mild surprise in the court not least to Lord Leveson alongside whose seat the aforementioned propped himself to deliver is charge.

The accused seemed singularly unimpressed and even his burly bodyguards strolled slowly to the positions of protection as Mr D L-W grappled with court staff before leaving in a prone position from whence he had come.

Lord Leveson then announced an immediate inquiry which means two for the price of one in the same room.

Meanwhile back at the other inquiry, chief interrogator Robert Jay had been so unimpressed with the interruption that his chin had not even left the hand on which it leans for much of the day's proceedings.

Mr Lawley-Wakelin had charged TB with having his hand in the till at J P Morgan in America and suggested that had something to do with the invasion of Iraq.

Mr Blair flatly denied the charges and pointed out that his accuser's outburst would hijack news of his appearance thereby proving the impossibility of the press - as evidenced by this story .

And so it was back to the fray or rather the seminar as former barrister Blair, clearly content to be back in familiar surroundings, swapped polite questions and answers with Jay and the judge.

Gone was the scourge of the Murdochs and the Grand Inquisitor of Coulson and Brooks, and in his place a new user-friendly Jay happy to let Tony use ten words where one would have sufficed.

Looking on were the seried ranks of the "feral beasts" of the press so described by the former PM clearly standing by hoping to deliver further blows to the man who provided them with so many stories over their careers.

Tony began by admitting that from day one of his leadership he decided taking on the press would be a waste of his time and so he decided to "manage it".

He did decide to try to win over Rupert Murdoch's newspapers but did not become really pally with the the big man himself until after he packed in as PM - and by then he had discovered Rupert was not an identikit right-winger - although he did not reveal which parts were missing from the box.

It was only then that he decided to get the white suit and be godfather to Murdoch minor minor.

He flatly denied using the papers to rubbish anyone during his time in politics, particularly Gordon, despite claims to the opposite. He also did not approve of bullying and did not believe that Peter Mandelson or Alistair Campbell ever did it (check tomorrow's newspapers!)

It was a vintage Blair performance as befits the man who told John Humphries he was a "straight sort of guy" over Bernie Ecclestone's £1m donation.

The best bit came when he confirmed without embarrassment his conversation years ago with Chris Mullin that his absolute priority was to win: "I know it sounds unprincipled but I believe it is my role in life," he told him.

Having no doubt already got each other's phone numbers, and without a glove landed on him, Tony then left promising to write in with his thoughts on the future of the press.

David Cameron is due his turn on 14 June. Number 10 said he had been too busy to watch Tony. If I were him, I'd get the DVD.
 

Protestor David Lawley-Wakelin. Photograph: Oli Scarff/Getty Images

Peter McHugh is the former Director of Programmes at GMTV and Chief Executive Officer of Quiddity Productions

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times