POWER TO THE PEOPLE, RIGHT-ON.

NICK,  THE ISLINGTON  REFORMER,
AN POMPOUS GIT.

Am I the Deputy Prime Minister and Chief Reformer? Yes, of course I am, do I feel the hand of history on my shoulder? Well, now is not the time for cliches…..

(stunned gasps from assembled hacks, Forsooth, he speaketh in naught else, is verily an walking fucking cliche, the dolt needst but  open his gob and  out poureth an torrent of o'er use-ed and plainly counterfeit platitude and maidenly wishful thinking, which must, before a Summer’s passing, round and bite him on his pox-ed arse, or I am not Toilets Maguire, of the Daily LookingGlass.

Master Toilets Maguire,
trying to do thinking.

Dost think, brother Heffer,

An fat greedy scoundrel.

that Calleth-Me-Dave doth engage in  rogering the scoundrel, behind close-ed privvy doors, that they are what are call-ed, in Westminster, an item, even unto them being in an toiletmen’s alliance ? I knowest not, brother, but Calleth-Me-Knave enjoyeth not the comfort of an majority, strut and preen as he may, his odd, irregular face alight with pride and cruelty, and who knoweth where he might, to  briefly gainful political purpose, be thrusting his John Thomas, he is, after all, an Etonite, and to the manner born, mayhap they just thrash each other with sticks until reaching some curious satisfaction, or shit, each in the other's face, as is custom among Ye foully misnamed  Liberals, but soft, grandiloquent and intolerably pompous, the buffoon rambles on …)

….am I nothing less than the political arm of the British people? Well, of course I am, and I am here to stay, this is the new, irremoveable democracy. Once you have not elected me, you cannot get rid of me. Brilliant, isn’t it? You might argue that in overwhelming numbers the British people have not voted for me, much less my reforms,  and it it is true, but it doesn’t matter, anyone who can sieze power can keep it; this is the New Politics, so long as they don't offend Mr Murdoch,  and so therefore I have won; my fellow unelected British Prime Minister, my friend, David, says so. So, if he says so and I say so then it must be so, isn’t it, can’t get a more convincing coup than that, both the instigators insisting it is the right thing to do. For the Country.

Are you saying that because we won less seats or is it fewer than last time that I am a failure? Well, no, of course I’m not; less, in the New Britain, this New Britain which we are forging under my reforming zeal, is actually more. As Mr Laws will shortly be advising the nation’s poor and sick and disabled and, well, everybody really. We are all in this together. Some of us more in it than others.

(The clown ist havin’ an laugh, he maketh merriment, doth he not; verily an wealthy, idle poltroon, with ne’er a days artisanship or merchanting  or man-at-armsing under his belt and good, as the Poles say, for fuck all, toying leisuredly with affairs of state, as though ‘twere his portion, to sit on the ermine bench and shitteth down in our faces, his Spanish doxy enjoining, Me-No-Speaka-De-Englishing for all she's worth. Aye and hast heard his promises? An churl, taken by the constables in felony, canst henceforth abjure the statute by which he is detained, Nay, fucketh off, Lord Sherrif, 'tis an odious law, wrought under Gordon the Ruiner,  and shouldst be remov-ed. so sayeth the Reformer, Nick; an citizen may'st but write to him and all laws shall be set aside, Hey Nonny Nonny and thus return unto me that bolt of cloth and that sheep which are now mine and stayeth, thee, yonder hangman's rope, for thou trespasseth on my yooman rites. And henceforth, Lord Sherrif, thou shalt elected be and not an placeman for robber Kings, unless thay be call-ed DaveanNick.

Aye, forsooth, 'tis an shock to the system, this coalesence of venality and hypocrisy, of cant and sermon; 'tis as though one wandered unwarily homeward after an evening wassailing with  brother hacks, harlots and soothsayers and,  'neath an o'erjetting bedroom window, felt, cascading on one's pate, a foul broth of  pisswater and turds.....)

.....Empowering people, that's where I start from, giving back Power to the People, Right-on, but in a measured sort of way, incremetally, but like a BigBang.  But mainly keeping it to ourselves. In the important areas. Like elections.This piece of paper that I have here, in my hand, is the most important piece of paper since Moses came down from his Party conference with tablets of stone, telling people not to fuck their neighbours. Alright, it wasn't exactly a piece of paper but that's the Old, Bad Politics, nitpicking over pieces of paper, or slabs of stone, what does it matter, just so long as we, the Wise ones, tell the stupid ones what they may and may not do.  For fuck's sake, citizens, comrades and fellow-Tories,  it's worse here than in Malta.

(Malta, Malta? What, pray, brother Aronowitz,
is Malta. Why by my tiny, infinitesimal, faggoty beard,

Master David PussyFace Aaronovitch
of Ye Daily Satan.

Brother Gobsley, I knowest not, mayhap it is some realm beyond the Spanish Main, where daemons do foregather to entrap the incautious traveller. I shall  reee-surch it, forsooth, and write an learned column in Ye London Murdoch-Satan

But this is thin gruel, comparest thou this blackguarding popinjay to Tony and Imelda, in their prime, Things Can Only Getteth Bettering and For the Many Not The Fewing, even though 'twere, in the realisation, the opposite way around; but  thin gruel indeed, must think we are stupid, this buffoon, our brains heedless to the evidence of our eyes and ears, or entranc-ed by his elfin good looks, as though we were sore afflicted with the SimonHughesPlague and lusting after man, woman and beast and thus not an disgusting nancyman, fuck, no, but an highly principled polysexual and revolting, squirming abomination, festooned about with warts and sores, as happy with himself as a dog with two cocks.)

Am I saying that I will reform the situation where a few per cent of the populace own nearly everything and pay, in the way of tax, fuck all?  Am I saying that? Well, very nearly, but Tomorrow is A Long Time and we cannot do everything at once, so in the meantime one of my outstanding reforms is to leave things pretty much as they are on the RichPeopleDeserveMore front, after all, I am one, and so is CallHimDave. Oh, we shall talk about rights and civil liberties and CCTV cameras, like the ones watching you now, in case you get violent, and we shall make the case for their abolition, and retain them. It's the talking about it, you see, makes people realise we are takimg things seriously, which we are, only not in the way they think. We are LiberalConservatives, so that's a mixture of our traditional indecision and the Tories' economic brutality, but mainly the economic brutality bit. And that's how  the New Politics differs from the Old Politics, not at all. No longer will JP Morgan and Goldman Sachs be able to direct the affairs of strongstablegovament from the sidelines, No, we will bring them in, give them cabinet jobs, just like in America. In fact one of the objects of this NewManifesto of Change, which no-one voted for, is for us all to go into coalition with each other, us here in Britain, - which I love, but not as much as Europe - and the Republican-Democrats in the States. Well, why not, we are all part of the same,  exciting New World Order, which none of you want but are going to get.

I intend to give regular gimmick bulletins, like this one, as and when I make-up new stuff to reform, or if anyone starts complaining, unpatriotically, about the very necessary cuts which are  very necessary because they just are, if we want the banks to continue lending you your own money at rates favourable to themselves. So, thanks to you all for coming. Don't vote for me. I don't need your votes any more. Brilliant, isn't it?

( 'Tis as we feared, brethren,  'tis for the moneylenders and usurers in New Amsterdam and Shanghai and London, that they rule,  and not for the yeoman and peasant, and for all this prating of novelty, all this lofty drivel of reform and improvement it is, as Brother Nose of the Oo doth say in his balladry, Meeteth, thee, the new Boss, Same as the Old Boss. And Clegg, consum-ed by ambition and by Call-Me-Knave is as big an cunt unto himself, as he is unto we, or very nearly. Up with him, against the wall, ye motherfuckers.)