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Walter Pincus of the Washington Post says something very insightful about the emerging Iraqgate scandal:

The U.S. and British governments, whose intelligence agencies have a long history of close relations, have sought to maintain a united front despite suggestions in Congress and Parliament this week that both governments may have exaggerated the evidence against Iraq to support the case for war. But as the controversy escalates, the interests of the two allies have begun to diverge.

The Bush administration effectively has discarded the uranium allegation. The government of British Prime Minister Tony Blair, however, has stood behind its September conclusion that Iraq "sought significant quantities of uranium from Africa" for a possible nuclear weapons program despite the release of a report by a British parliamentary commission this week that challenged the allegation and, in effect, Bush's decision to include it in his address.

Pincus goes on to note that the stories each government is telling about the intelligence that led the way to war don't really parse anymore. This reflects the differing political environments in the two countries -- Blair, much more than Bush, has to worry about the consequences of being caught in an "inoperative statement."

This, in turn, reflects Blair's weaker rational for going to war in the first place. After 9/11, America was ready to give Bush every benefit of the doubt in waging what was allegedly a battle in the war on terrorism. Blair faced a much tougher, skeptical audience, requiring him to go even further out on a limb to make the case that Saddam presented a clear and present danger.

I've been tempted lately to describe Blair as Bush's Mussolini -- a marginally useful ally at the best of times whose weakness has suddenly become a serious strategic liability. But, as the issue descends from tragedy into melodrama, I'm more inclined to see the pair of them as the sleazy lovers in the great film noir classic Double Indemnity.

Update 7/11 2:40 PM ET: And in the "wouldn't you love to be a fly on that wall" department:

President Bush and British Prime Minister Tony Blair, both facing criticism over their justification for invading Iraq, will meet in Washington on July 17, U.S. officials said on Friday.

In movie, Fred MacMurray plays Walter, an amiable insurance agent who plots with Phyllis, a sexy femme fatale (played by Barbara Stanwyck) to kill her husband for the insurance money. Their plan succeeds; the husband is murdered, but Barbara and Walter quickly realize that they don't really trust each other -- especially after a cranky but soft-hearted insurance fraud investigator (Edward G. Robinson) begins to poke around the case:

Walter: Afraid, baby?

Phyllis: Yes, I'm afraid. But not of Keyes. I'm afraid of us. We're not the same anymore. We did it so we could be together but instead of that, it's pulling us apart, isn't it, Walter?

Walter: What are you talking about?

Phyllis: And you don't really care whether we see each other or not.

Walter (kissing her): Shut up, baby.

Keyes, the investigator, quickly realizes that Phyllis had an accomplice, and he undertands that this creates enormous risks for both of the murderers. And, in a long speech, he explains why:

Keyes: Murder is never perfect. It always comes apart sooner or later. When two people are involved, it's usually sooner. Now we know the Dietrichson dame is in it and the somebody else. Pretty soon, we'll know who that somebody else is. He'll show. He's got to show. Sometime, somewhere, they've got to meet. Their emotions are all kicked up. Whether it's love or hate, it doesn't matter. They can't keep away from each other. They may think it's twice as safe because there are two of them. But it isn't twice as safe. It's ten times twice as dangerous. They've committed a murder. And it's not like taking a trolley ride together where they can get off at different stops. They're stuck with each other and they've got to ride all the way to the end of the line . . .

The twist is that the investigator doesn't suspect his friend, Walter (the MacMurray character.) He thinks the Phyllis, the widow, committed the murder with another of her lovers. Realizing this, Walter understands that if he can bump off Phyllis, and frame the other guy, he'll be in the clear. But, when he goes to Phyllis's house, he discovers she has the same idea:

Walter: Yeah. And for once I believe you, because it's just rotten enough.

Phyllis:We're both rotten.

Walter: Only you're a little more rotten.

She shoots him; he shoots her. She dies; he staggers back to his office and dictates a full confession into his dictabelt machine. Keyes shows up; learns the truth, but still can't help feeling sorry for his friend:

Walter: You know why you couldn't figure this one, Keyes? I'll tell ya. 'Cause the guy you were looking for was too close, right across the desk from you.

Keyes: Closer than that, Walter.

Walter: (with his customary reply) I love you, too.

Somehow, I don't think we'll be hearing true confessions out of either of the parties in our own real-life crime drama. Although the insurance investigator (the media) does tend towards the same blind indulgence when it comes to President Bush's role in the affair.

But the story still has a moral: relying on an accomplice for your alibi is always risky, especially if your interests "begin to diverge." If I were Tony Blair, I'd watch my back.