At the heart of all these outpourings, of this quick march to the lucrative confessional, is the thing which was at the very essence of Blairism — an infinite, consuming and unquenchable narcissism and vanity. Was there ever a man more vain than Lord Levy, and with so little cause to be so? Well, Peter Mandelson, perhaps. Or maybe even Cherie. Or Alastair Campbell. When push came to shove, any notion of loyalty and decorum and reserve was thrown overboard so that they could make as much money as possible from their badly written, tawdry memoirs and, if possible, exculpate themselves from any lingering allegations. Ask not what you can do for your country, ask only about the size of the advance.