Warning to publishers. Don’t commission a first-time author without giving him a deadline. The Chilcot Inquiry, a long-pondered probe into the origins of the Iraq war, is maturing gracefully and expensively like a lovely old port. Seven years and counting. Let’s hope it tastes good when it comes out.
At PMQs, David Cameron replied to questions about Chilcot with his ‘not-me-guv’ routine. Here are the things he isn’t responsible for. Ordering the Inquiry. Fixing the Inquiry timetable. Accelerating its publication. Receiving the Inquiry. Deciding what do with the Inquiry once it’s completed. Inquiring into delays surrounding the Inquiry.
When, or if, the report appears it will damage the reputations of various Labour mummies and dinosaurs. And Cameron tried his best to nudge Ed Miliband into the firing line while excusing himself altogether. He was like a bystander at an ugly car smash who tut-tuts sadly and hides his face behind his hand while peeking out to see how deliciously sickening the injuries are.
Three knights spoke in the debate. First up, Ming Campbell, whose impersonation of a pompous flea-bite is getting better all the time. He tackled a rumour that those mentioned in the report are impeding its release.
‘I’m aware of no evidence that any witness has sought to alter the progress of the Inquiry.’
I love that – ‘I am aware of no evidence.’ He must think he’s an appeal court judge rejecting a clemency plea, not a has-been backbencher trying to make gossip sound like statesmanship.
Sir Richard Ottaway floated the idea that Sir John might appear before a select committee called the PASC. This is a posse of well-tailored vigilantes who roam Whitehall looking for fast-asleep civil servants. When they find one they kick him awake. In extreme cases they kick him to death. But I doubt if a summons will help. Sir John can’t possibly complete his official report when he’s also completing an official response to an official invitation to reveal why he hasn’t completed his official report.
Diane Abbott broke with protocol by saying something intelligent. An inquiry into Westminster sex scandals is imminent, and the absurd tardiness of Chilcot has estroyed public trust in parliament’s ability to hold power to account.
Sir Peter Tapsell delivered one of his Ciceronian specials – an improvised question consisting of a single sentence loaded with asides and sub-clauses. Tapsell was packing high explosives today. Having casually crushed Sir John for his ‘disgraceful incompetence’, Tapsell referred to
‘widely held suspicions that Mr Blair conspired with George W Bush, several months before the invasion of March 2003, and then systematically sought to falsify the evidence on which that action was taken.’
So there. Scratch publication. The conclusions are in already.
The likeliest fate for Chilcot is that the word will morph into a common noun meaning ‘a pointless seven year interval.’ The time taken for a satellite to reach Neptune. The time taken for a doctor to complete his medical training. The time taken for a murderer to become eligible for release.
Or the time taken for an MP to accuse a former PM of war crimes.
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