Ah, Tony Blair. Time was we couldn’t get enough of the man’s silver-tongued oratory; time was when the sight of Blair and Clinton glad-handing at the G8 made us feel as though the entire globalized world was finally ready to Give Peace a Chance.

This morning, however, as Blair left Number 10 Downing, we could manage only a passing tepid thought: Don’t let the door hit you in the arse, Tony.

Sure, he needs to be whipped on for his adventuring in Iraq and his toadying to Bush. But we don’t have to do it anymore.

No, the President himself will take care of punishment: Blair will have to endure Bush trying to help him until the day he dies.

Case in point: Bush marks Blair’s last day in office by arguing that Blair is not his poodle. No, Bush maintains, Tony is “something larger than that.”

Like, say, a Labrador Retriever.