Ees zees way to ze bunker, Frau Lardarse, allez vite, ze peasants,
ils sont revolting, encore, just like ze last time.
Eet ees, mes amis, 'ow you say ze dawn of ze sousand day Reich. La belle France avec le Deutschland uber alles, combining in ze grande androgynous mother et fatherland in order zat moi, Nicholas, ze dwarf pimp and Angular, ze - in ze words of ze former spic president - unfuckable lardarse hausfrau - can stay in power for anuzzer couple of years or three.
SHIT IN OUR TIME.
unelected prime minister returns triumphant from meeting with Herr Hitler, sorry Frau Merkel.
In London, the unelected prime minister of England, Mr CallHimDaveChamberlain alighted from an aircraft with a piece of soiled toiletpaper in his pocket.
Now look, I have here, in my hand, a piece of soiled toilet paper which bears the skidmarks of M'sieu Sarkozy, Frau Lardarse and myself. And if you study it closely, as I have, you can see, if you squint a bit - rather like looking at the Coalition of the Unelected - if you look closely and squint you can see that all the brown and yellow bits - that's me and M'sieu Sarkozy's poos - and the green bits - that's Frau Merkel's sauerkrauty shit - all spell out the phrase Shit In Our Time. And that's just what you're gonna get.
As President Churchill said, we will fight you in the schools and in the hospitals, we will fight you in the town halls and on the 'buses and in the trains; we will fight you in the care homes and kindergartens, we will never surrender and if the Coalition of the Unspeakable should last two whole years, men will say, This was Their Finest Hour. And another thing, an iron curtain is coming down around England, everywhere outside Chipping Norton and the City of London is being cordoned-off; the lights are going off all over England, or they will be if Mr Huhne has his way. Something he's done rather too much of with the ladies, in my opinion, if you can call them ladies; dogs, we'd call them, in the Cotswolds.