Apres Moi Le Deluge...

... as Louis XV/ Prince Metternich/ Mme Pompadour or whoever once said (or not). Blair, as he jets around the world flogging his latest brand of snake oil, must be hugely amused by the discomfiture of his successor. In his wildest dreams, he wouldn't have come up with this one - a long-running national weather catastophe at the height of summer, just the kind of thing with which Broon is conspicuously ill-equipped to cope (he doesn't do events, they're outside his control) - and an emergency that can easily be traced back to the malign impact of his Big Clunking Fist - insisting on cuts in flood defence expenditure, with the active co-operation of the dunce Beckett (who'd run up massive EU fines by cocking up the Single Payments Scheme) and head boy Milliband. If Cameron can't make capital out of this... Actually, I'm not going to finish that sentence.
(Oh and the sinister RSPB is deeply involved, with its insistence on nice wet places for the wading birds rather than properly drained land. Not to mention decades of disastrously bad New Housing...)