Suddenly, Tony Blair doesn't look young any more. His features are pinched and drawn, his complexion sallow. Even his hairline seems to have receded a little further. A persistent fluey cold can't help, but strain and fatigue exude from each pore. Although he insists that every waking hour is spent fighting to get a second (or 18th, depending on your point of view) United Nations resolution authorising military action against Iraq, the onset of hostilities may come as a relief. The war may be hell, but at least it will end this purgatory.
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