I BRING ARMS,
SO YOU CAN FIGHT YOUR CITIZENS MORE PEACEFULLY.
Actually, your Pharoahness, I am an important Prince in my own country, far away in big iron bird. At the last election, ninety eight per-cent of the people voted for me to be their SunKing, and we can help you achieve the same sort of democracy, here, in your own, well, your own and America's country.
And the other two per cent, you shot them, right?
Oh, absolutely, or we will next time.
Well, it's a very good question and I'm happy to take my jacket off and answer it. What the fuck am I doing in Cairo? Well, I ask you, if you were stuck in an office with Nick Clegg all day long, listening to him banging-on, about Ree- form and Change, like he does; if you had to stand in the House of Commons with him at your elbow, nodding his fucking head off, if you had to shit on your own by-election candidate, just to keep Clegg from being eaten alive by his ragbag of shit-eating, sandal-weaving, DogShootersCo-operative members, and then, after all you've done for him, he goes and fucks off at three o'clock, because he's tired, well, wouldn't you fancy a few days away, playing at being a world statesman?
A FAMOUSLY NON-HOMOSEXUAL FOETUS SPEAKS OUT
Well, as I ah said previously, I had no ah con-crete ah information that Colonel Wotsisname had gone to Bechuanaland but I had ah seen such information or heard it and like a foreign seckatry should, I ah shared it with the ladeezangentulmen of the ah press. If, in fact it turns out that Mr ah Wotsisnmane is not, in-fact, in ah Bechuanaland well that is hardly my fault, now, is it? It's not as though I came right out and said I fancied him, is it? I do try to keep the ah press informed and to do so in the ah inimitable style which has served me so well, if I may say so, on the after-dinner circuit, where Northern Rotarians have paid good ah money to hear me pontificate in my dribs and ah drabs style, so ah reminiscent of how, when you are having a piss, sometimes, after a man's customary sixteen pints of bitter, you think, your head leaning against the Armitage tiles above the ah urinal, that you have wrung and ah shaken the very last drops of yellow nectar from the ah Old Man, you put him back in your underpants, zip the ah zipper up tight and then ah fuck me, if there isn't another small torrent of warm drips goes running down the inside of your trousers, leaving unfortunate ah stains which no amount of rubbing with toilet tissue or leaping up and down in front of the warm-air hand dryer will ah remedy and so it's back into the Rotarians' Dinner, hoping that they are all too pissed on Theakstons and self-regard to notice but of course they ah do. I think that ah fairly accurately sums up my uniquely personal style of ah public speaking, piss dribbling down the ah inside of one's ah trousers. At Oxford, in fact, it became my nickname and friends and colleagues in the Young Conservatives could be heard chuckling, Look Out chaps, here come Hague, the Human Trouser Stain. Be that as it, ah, may, when my official wife, Mrs Fffffffiion Beard-Hague, heard that I had been accused of saying Colonel Gaddafi was in Bechuanaland when in fact everybody ah knew that it was Venezualaland which he wasn't in she was so hurt that she immediately had a miscarriage. And when I tell you that she wasn't even pregnant that will ah prove how so very not gay I am. It is the sort of mature ah political marriage which so strengthens me in my role as the ah nation's geograpy teacher, she has the miscarriages and I sleep with the pretty, young men, half my age, and all at the public's expense.
THE UK FOREIGN SECKATRY (LEFT) OFFICIATES AT A MEETING
OF THE RICHMOND, YORKS. ROTARY CLUB
MR SIR MAD SHOUTY BASTARD RIFKIND OF THAT ILK, MP,
LOWERS HIS VOICE TO A SHRIEK.
Now, just look here, I was a proper foreing seckatry, not like that slaphead tart, Hague, hanging around the gym with Sebastian Coe, like a lovestruck puppy. No, proper ladies' men in my day, at the FO - myself, with my deep brown Edinburgh voice, Peter Carrington, Douglas Hurd, well, maybe not Douglas, went to Eton, y'know, swing both ways, they do. And as for Hague, doing all that bleating about his beard's plumbing, well, the grubby little bastard needs horsewhipping, that's the view in the party.
NOW, AS FOR LIBYA WHICH IS WHY, AT LONG LAST, I AM BACK ON THE NEWS, WELL, ALL I CAN SAY IS SHOUT SHOUT SHOUT SHOUT SHOUT SHOUT SHOUT TONY BLAIR SHOUT SHOUT GORDON BROWN SHOUT SHOUT SHOUT AL MEGRAHI SHOUT SHOUT SHOUT SHOUT AND I SHOULD BLOODY WELL THINK SO.
IN OTHER DICTATOR STORIES:
NEWS TYRANT REFUSES TO STEP DOWN
AFTER FORTY YEARS IN CHARGE.
Mr Jon Job-fer-Life Sox'n'Ties
Mr Jon Sox, strongman of Channel Four News has insisted that he will fight to somebody else's death to remain anchor man of the crap show. Look, said Sox, in his familiar, annoying, clipped, urgent, newsy voice, this is my show, what part of that don't you understand? We have a regular wog bint, and Krishnan, the prat, to read out the showbiz news but the main stuff, that's me, that's Channel Four News, geddit?
It's me goes to Washington. And Moscow. And Cairo. Without me, there's simply no Channel Four News. There are other members of the tribe, certainly, there's Peter Sox, formerly of the BBC, and his prattling son, Dan Sox, and they make junk, history-lite shows, pair of tossers, Battle of fucking Bosworth, who cares, when there's Channel Four News happening, right here, right now, newsily, urgently and, most of all, Soxily. But there's only one Jon Sox, and that, viewers, is me, I'm here and I'm staying here, It's your money pays my salary, how dare you get sick of the sight of my dreary face and the sound of my dreary, urgent, newsy voice after only forty years? I used to fuck Anna wotsit, you know, Ford. And I'm descended from David Lloyd George, like many other bastards. That's it. I'll be back tomorrow night. And the night after......