I had a deeply unpleasant nightmare about Tony Blair Friday morning. I was seeing through his eyes. He was in a bathroom, trimming his fingernails; the nail of his left pinky had grown to grotesquely huge and deformed proportions, coming to resemble a scythe. After trimming it, Blair began to reflect on a Commons speech he'd given, in which he'd said how deeply he felt and regretted every serviceman's life lost in the Iraq war. He then began to vomit explosively, profusely, and continually into and around the sink until he very nearly passed out.

Which is all rather appropriate, really.

I really dreamt this. I'm not making it up.