Sorry – I can’t let this one go past without sticking my oar in. You see, the difference between this and the run of the mill government whitewashes of yesteryear is that we saw the inquiry and had full access to the evidence. Like with an Agatha Christy novel we could all play detective and try to work out whodunnit. However in this case the evidence was so stark that you wouldn’t need the uncanny skills of Mrs Marple or Hercule Poirot to work out that of course the government lied. Every pundit, journalist and bystander was waiting patiently for Blair to get a right pasting and, surprise surprise, Hutton paints a halo on him and attacks the BBC ? Even ITV sounded shocked about the outcome. It’s a sad state of affairs when the only person on the news who seems to share my anger about the whole shabang is Boris fucking Johnson.
So Gred Dyke resigns, and his employees come out in protest. If my boss were to resign I don’t think we could muster a demonstration against it, and that’s not because no-likes this person, but you’d have to feel pretty strongly about it to consider standing out in the cold waving banners. And it is really, bloody cold today.
There’s a protest tomorrow outside Downing street.
For the record, here’s what I think went on…call me a conspiracy theorist if you like, that just demonstrates you don’t like questionning what you are told.
Hutton starts writing his report. As a government patsy he makes the government out to be not as tarnished as they should be. Meanwhile No 10, MI5 and MI6 are terrified that they are going to be revealed as even slightly questionable at a time when public confidence is already dangerously low. So, a couple of very senior intelligence officers approach Hutton in some posh London club, and gently “encourage” him to change tack…in the name of the Queen…for the defence of the realm…to protect the constiturion…for ENGLAND…etc know…that sort of MI5 bollocks they always say. So he tears up his original attempt and writes a long love letter to those bastards in No 10 and follows up by sticking pins into tiny dolls of Greg Dyke and John Humphries. You couldn’t make it up.

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