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Laurence Inman’s Blog



This week Laurence has a World Exclusive - the chapter of Cherie Blair’s new book which Whitehall was determined would never see the light of day has fallen into his hands. Here it is:

March 2003 was a terrible time for me. It started with a particularly heavy period. I was using ten tampons a day! Why aren’t men ever subject to this kind of horror? What was God thinking of? I asked Tony if he had any views on the gender-empathy of God. He was very sharp.

'Bloody hell woman, you can't resist it can you? Do we have to discuss your bodily discharges while I'm smearing Waitrose strawberry compote on my toast ?'

'We used to talk about everything.'

'Yes, well, I've got a lot on my mind just now.'

'Grumpy bum.'

I should have been more sympathetic. He certainly had a pile of work on just then. The historic liberation of Iraq was about to begin. Tony and George were putting the finishing touches to plans for the big adventure which would, in the end, earn them a place in history alongside Churchill, Roosevelt and Genghis Khan.

Obviously, you couldn’t expect the tiny-minded pygmies in the British so-called press to understand the broad sweep of historical necessity which my husband (with my help and support) was about to set in train, but even so the rags outdid themselves that month.

Tony, who only ever did what he thought was right for the security of all of us, was called a tyrant and a murderer! Didn’t they understand that Saddam had to be stopped ? That within forty-five minutes his storm-troopers could be on the streets of London, rounding up all the women and forcing them to wear those black things all over ?

Even worse, women would never be allowed to do any judging any more, even if they had the Latin!

The prospect was horrendous.

Of course, a few innocent children would be blown to bits. This would be an unpleasant but unavoidable concomitant of what we had to do. But it would be worth it when, after a few days, peace, tranquillity and justice would prevail in that poor, benighted country.

Tony and I have never worn our Christianity or our socialism on our sleeves, but I certainly thought during that awful week that we should start.

Just because you can afford a house in a secluded square in the middle of London, a country house in Buckinghamshire, various places for the kids when they’re away at Uni and fees for private schools, does not mean that you have no feeling for your fellow-people.

Why, only the other day I noticed that the pavement outside the Connaught Square place was a tad uneven. Did I bother the council ? No. I gave a little man from Hackney fifty quid to level it off.

By the summer things had calmed down a bit on the Iraq front. But we had even more pressing problems to deal with.

I don’t want to suggest that the present PM is in any way unhinged. It is, however, a fact that the sounds of screaming and something being dragged around on the floors and walls began to emanate from next door. I called the council’s Anti-Noise and Derangement Team several times a day. It’s all on record. Did they do anything ? Did they f***!

If you want to follow the progress of Cherie’s cycle, go to

If you’ve been affected by anything you’ve read here, just mail and ask to speak to one of our counsellors.



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