Uncanny

I'm confused. A senior government minister admits to having had an affair with a married woman, and claims to have got her pregnant twice. Isn't he supposed to resign now? Isn't he supposed to resign, irrespective of whether the allegations of his misusing his ministerial powers to get his ex-lover a cheap immigrant nanny turn out to be true? That's what they used to do in the old days, when I were a nipper: resign. Those who didn't were charged with sleaze by the minister's own party.

Instead, we are all supposed to feel sorry for David Blunkett. The British media are being unbelievably kind to him. Indeed, the BBC has even felt it necessary to justify covering the story at all (they've learnt their lesson all right). And get this: not one of the British tabloids—not even the Times—has coined the word Visagate yet. I know this for a fact: I just searched for it on Google news and got zero hits. Remember, you heard it here first.

But what is perhaps most amazing about all the soft-hitting media coverage of The Blunkett Affair is that absolutely nobody has pointed out the real news story here. Not one of the newspapers or TV bulletins has drawn attention to the unbeleaguered Home Secretary's uncanny resemblance to the actor Peter O'Toole in the 1968 film, The Lion in Winter. It's not just the beard. Look at those eyes. Look at that mouth. David Blunkett is Peter O'Toole! Totally uncanny.

Like I said, you heard it here first.