There is a moment in the Uncle Remus stories when Brer Rabbit is finally cornered by Brer Fox, who genially informs his victim
Brer Fox duly ‘slung him right in the middle of the briar patch’, whereupon the cunning rabbit got up and ran away.‘I’m going to barbecue you today, for sure.’ Then Brer Rabbit started talking mighty humble. ‘I don’t care what you do with me, Brer Fox,’ says he. ‘Just so you don’t fling me in that briar patch. Roast me, Brer Fox,’ says he, ‘But don’t fling me in that briar patch.’
There was a moment, in the immediate aftermath of the 2001 general election, when Tony Blair, like Brer Fox, had Robin Cook where he wanted him. Cook was busted. He had been (and would have remained, had not Jack Straw demonstrated that the job could be done with even less dexterity) the clumsiest foreign secretary for decades.
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