Blur-bollocks

D'ye know, sometimes that Tony Blur really takes the biscuit. There he is, staying at Robin Gibbs' falsetto pad in Florida when Gerry Adams coughs a bit over his intentions for an Ard Fheis on policing, and he hauls himself out of Robin's pool and jumps in a plane for London.

(Remember that he hasn't yet responded or even commented on the disgusting manner of Saddam Hussein's execution which was, in the end, little more than a sectarian lynching).

Have you ever noticed that, when under extreme stress, people always revert to type? If someone has a particular leaning towards violence, put them under a bit of stress and they'll shout and stick fingers in people's faces. Mousey people, however reconstructed through self-help programmes, will forget about self-assertion and melt into a corner. Commenting on the DUP and SF endgames, he says, "We think they both want to end up in the same place ..." and then comes out with the typical Blur-bollocks: "It's a case of finding the words to get us there".

Words will get the Irish people nowhere. We're not stupid. The issue at stake is whether Republicans are going to support constitutional law and order. Or not. Accompanying conditions can be negotiated, but not bottom-line basics. Maybe SF needs time to persuade its more hardline supporters. Fine. It'll be worth the wait, because we need four-square, unqualified commitment. Ironically, if Tony Blur had half Gerry Adams' pragmatism and political nouse we might get somewhere.

Words, words, words. When persuasion and logic flag, Tony, you insult us all by wrapping disputed concepts up in smooth words carefully spun to bridge any size of crashing chasm with silken yarns. But yarns they remain.