Misdeeds dogging Blunkett

I could not help feeling a pang of sympathy for David Blunkett, reading the paper this morning. It appears he has ben caught by a young blond in a honey trap. For Blunkett it seems more like a Venus fly trap. But the whole back page of the Observer showing a dog with paws over its eyes must surely signal the end of the man’s political career.

Robin Cook is now a dead hero whose mistress used to live right here in Blairy England, before he married her. The place seems to have ben full of the mistresses and gigolos of the famous. Cook was a typically randy politician according to his academic first wife, who was condemning of the whole pack of male politicians. Blunkett seems to be different only in that he could not see so well what was coming to him. Perhaps that is too kind. He seems to have wielded his power sexually and in a number of other ways which make him the very opposite of a model Home Office Minister or Home Secretary.

I cannot accept that a politician can make laws by one set of principles and live privately by a different set. Where I feel pain for Blunkett is in imagining a nightclub world where you simply cannot see what you are letting yourself fall into. Perhaps the saddest thing is that this is a case of a normal male power hungry politician trying to do what normal politicians do but being exposed by his handicap.