IT was billed as the worst 48 hours in Tony Blair's career. It turned out to be the worst in Michael Howard's. What a difference a dusty old judge makes.

In retrospect, we should have sussed the instant we learned Lord Hutton's first name was Brian that he was never going to cut it in the nemesis business.

When did you last hear of Brian the Impaler or Brian Vader? So Brian the Killer of prime ministers was always about as likely as a monarch called Doris or a fin-de-siecle poet named Stig.

Not that he was entirely benign. The BBC took a veritable kicking.

As the old boy delivered his verdict to a packed Court 76 in the Strand, Jeremy Paxman sat at the back, staring ahead in pain and chewing his lip like a petrified camel.

But his and the corporation's grief paled in comparison to that of Mr Howard, who started the Commons debate with something of the slight about him, and ended it utterly crushed.

The only damage he could have done with the report would have been to vault over the dispatch box and smash it into Tony Blair's 360-degree smile. He didn't. But how he suppressed the desire is a mystery.

The PM was flashing that lighthouse grin round the chamber in utter triumph. He didn't even have to do that much when he rose to his feet - just read out vast chunks of the report, which someone had helpfully marked in pink highlighter.

As Cherie blinked weirdly in the gallery, and his back benchers bayed like starved hounds, the PM was able to flip easily from one complimentary mark to another, his pulpit tones calm, measured, and devastating.

He filled in the pauses between listing all the things he had done right, by challenging Mr Howard to take back the accusation he was a liar, saying he did not have the ''decency'' to apologise.

He even made people feel sorry for Geoff Hoon. Truly, Tony is a worker of miracles.

But despite his desperate need, Mr Howard did not get one. Instead, he groped around, dismally trying to land a punch, only to trip over his own feet.

''Dr Kelly was a fine public servant,'' he began, immediately allowing a Labour back bencher to butt in: ''More than you!''

Then it just got worse. Bereft of new ammunition, he was forced to dust off a few ropey old stand-bys.

He called for a full inquiry into WMDs in Iraq. Cue Labour roars. He said spooks might have ''subconsciously'' been affected by the PM's zeal. (Groans.) He even dredged up a five-year-old report into the Hindujas. (Hisses, boos, toilet rolls etc.)

Then, to cap it all, Mr Blair came back with a killer rebuttal. ''Yesterday was a test of policy . . . (for Howard) and he failed it. Today is a test of character and he has failed that too.

''What he should understand is that being nasty is not the same as being effective and being opportunistic is not the same as leadership.''

Howard crumbled. It was if Blair had opened his coffin at noon. With foundation hospitals, top-up fees, and now Hutton ticked off, the only question left was - which crisis will Tony pick next?

Earlier, Lord Hutton delivered his verdict with only one interruption from a protester. No, not Andrew Gilligan, but Patricia Rodrigues-Walsh, a criminal psychologist who caused a small stir as she insisted Dr Kelly had been killed.

Her theory was greeted with a polite ''thank you'' before, unperturbed, his lordship carried on. He took just under 90 minutes to explain why he was sending Tony and his chums intact into the next round of political combat, and dispatching Gilligan and Gavyn Davies into the stand for an unacceptable late tackle.

The BBC chairman rose to the metaphor magnificently. In his resignation statement, he said: ''I have been brought up to believe that you cannot choose your own referee, and that the referee's decision is final.''