Phoney Blair isn't a Philosopher King; he's an incorrigible nincompoop

I have to say: the self-appointed Philosopher-Kings of our age are, all things considered, a bit of a disappointment. Phoney Blair, for instance, Philosopher-King-in-Chief, claims to be a uniquely enlightened man of considerable erudition, tinged with a dash of urbane sophistication and the uncanny ability to header a football. He really is Narcissus-plus, ordained by God to understand things that us mere mortals cannot.

Since July 2016, this self-styled guardian of Kallipolis has gone into overdrive, desperately trying to reconnect with the plebs who voted to leave the European Union. Phoney is frantically running from television studio to radio studio, determined to change our minds but, failing that, willing to ignore our longing cries for self-determination and democratic accountability. You see, we don't understand these things, by all accounts. We don't know what's good for us. Philosopher-Kings like Phoney and his friends in Brussels are the only suitably qualified class of individuals capable of making judicious decisions. The rest of us are glaringly incapable. He's been to Oxford, after all.

Okay, Phoney doesn't say this in so many words, he's even happy to use the illusion of democracy to legitimise his actions when it suits him - as he did during his time in office -, but his thoughts, words and deeds since the referendum expose his previously hidden contempt for the electorate. We didn't know what we were voting for, apparently. He doesn't trust us, sees us as low-information halfwits and clearly regrets the extension of the franchise. How else can one explain his behaviour over the last 18 months?

But is this egomaniac capable of making decisions for us? Is he the Philosopher-King he purports to be? Well, judging by his track record, the answer has to be a resounding no. This is the man who gave us the dodgy dossier, mass migration and Gordon Brown's fiscal irresponsibility. Back in 2004, before the accession of ten new EU member-states, he reassured us - Remember?! -, based on his refusal to countenance temporary restrictions on migration from the new territories, that only a few eastern Europeans would make the journey to our shores - 14 years and 1 million Polish emigres later...


Honestly! How can he keep a straight face? And let's not forget his decision to give away Margaret Thatcher's hard-won rebate in exchange for reform of the CAP - something that - surprise, surprise - never happened. This bloke was a car crash, not an enlightened, wise philosophe.
Indeed, he's more akin to one of Plato's reviled sophists, more concerned with personal gain than any Socratic conception of justice. He charms and deceives, covets, courts emperors, rogues and potentates of all stripes before trousering their ill-gotten gains and filling his bulging coffers. In short, the man's a crook.
And now he has the audacity - as all crooks do - to claim special status, insult us and strive to reverse a democratic decision. Well, Phoney, I have news for you: you're not a Philosopher King; you're an incorrigible nincompoop.