Here is yet another take on the promotion of Smuggo as our next Head of State – President of the European Council of The EU that is – which seeks to explain why he gave up £2.7 billion a year of the rebate so hard won by Margaret Thatcher without anything so much as a whimper let alone a fight.

Taken with his keenness to abolish the Pound and surrender us into the maw of the Euro, the indecent haste with which he added his signature to what was the first act of what was to become the EU Constitution (a.k.a. The Treaty of Lisbon), the particularly abject surrender of this huge amount of money which almost doubles our net annual contribution to the lunch accounts of Eurocrats in Brussels begins to look like a pattern of behaviour which had at its heart a long-term plan to cap his Premiership with a Fat Cat job in Brussels with all the cream that that entails.

Blair had, at the outset, promised with as straight a face as he could manage, that the rebate was safe in his hands: his version of ‘ils ne passeront pas!’, in an uncanny echo of Philippe Pétain – entirely appropriate, in view of what the latter was to become as head of Vichy France, to wit a traitor condemned to death. Then, with hardly a shot being fired, Blair waved the white flag. A German newspaper was moved to observe at the time that he “began as a tiger… and has ended up a doormat”.

Even by the standards of gutlessness that Blair consistently demonstrated in defending the British national Interest against the power-acquisitive tendencies of the EU, this was a singularly abject surrender. But by then he must have been looking to the future and how to keep himself and his ghastly wife in the style to which, through contact with all those seriously rich businessmen who had been converted to the cause of Socialism by himself and Lord Levy, they had become thoroughly accustomed.

Spending £2.7 billion a year of British Taxpayer’s money would be a mere bagatelle to Blair if it would keep bring him the country estate, the fat wedge of the EU President’s salary and the associated pension that he and Cherie would need to entertain close chums such as Prince Girolamo Strozzi, Silvio Berlusconi and the like and to maintain the champagne and caviar lifestyle that goes with it. So the notion that he threw the towel in to make himself look altogether more communautaire begins, along with all the other abject surrenders, to look a perfectly reasonable explanation of his conduct.

Just another case, then, of how Labour always treats its victims (us): “You Pay, You Obey, We Enjoy!”