30th April 2013

My rock and my hard place,

Darling, you know how I love to watch Prime Ministers Questions, but it’s not just to see your shiny brow, but it’s to marvel time and time again at the incredible banter. I just think it’s truly amazing how you lads manage to embark on your fab weekly school-boy mashed-potato-food-fight in the dinner hall and at the same time manage to sell the illusion that the only voting influence people will have in future events is who gets to sit where come 2015. And it’s genius the way that you do it too. It’s all in the language. And here, in pleb-speak, is how a typical session would go:

“Everything you do is wrong.”

“Yeah, but you did it first. And you did it wronger.”

“Yeah, but you did it way before that, and even more wrong.”

“You made that up!”

“Your MUM made that up.”

“You’re an idiot.”
“No, YOU’RE an idiot.”

“You’re a bigger idiot.”

“You started it, you idiot.”

“But you got mashed potato on the floor.”

“No, YOU did.  You got it on the floor first and now we have to find a way to clean up the mess that YOU left.”

“Just take the mashed potato from the poor people, you idiot. You smell.”

“Your mashed potato is an idiot.”

“I spit in your mashed potato.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You smell like fart.”

(And then later in private: “Same time next week?”  “You’re on, and we’re still good for badminton on Sunday, right?”  “Yes, I’ll bring Nick.  We’ll do doubles.”)

Did I mention that I make the most sumptuous creamy mashed potato?  Perfect for throwing at people, don’t you know.

Katy Anchant


24th April 2013



24th April 2013

My yoghurt-coated cherry,

I’m so glad you’re doing something about that awful NHS Direct service. I’m surprised, frankly, that it’s taken so long for somebody to realise that just about anyone can get paid to say, “If you’re worried, go to A&E.”

So now we have NHS 111 whose contract is being handled by a mix of public services and private contractors, all of whom in the first instance put you in touch with a friendly voice who, although not medically trained, is fully qualified of reading info back to you directly from the NHS Direct page or to tell you to go to hospital. And with a call back wait time of no less than 11 hours.

Thank goodness that somebody is finally making some profit from the NHS. Of course, with profit-based corporate entities getting more and more involved in healthcare services, like Virgin Care, it’s not a huge stretch of the imagination to see other helpful services eventually being offered too. And who knows, perhaps one day a typical call may go something like this:

“NHS 111. You’re speaking with Vrisakam Manachandaru, all calls are being monitored and recorded for quality and training purposes. How may I be of assistance?”
“Yes, hello, I’ve been on hold for two hours and my grandfather is having trouble breathing and is now complaining of pains in his chest and…”
“I am very sorry to hear about that, madam. Can I please have your postcode?”
“N13 2JP”
“Thank you very much for that information. And your date of birth?”
“27th July 1977.”
“Thank you very much for that information. And the first line of your address?”
“It’s Flat 17A, 4 Colbeck Street.”
“Thank you very much for that information. Is the gentleman you are calling about able to stand without assistance?”
“No, I think he’s stopped breathing now.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that, madam. Are you aware of our new low cost funeral service?”
“No. Do please continue!”

The amount of variety that could be added to public services is limitless, darling. Could you get Unum involved in any way? Sounds like a money-spinner for the people who need it the most to me.

I do hope that your Stephen Hammond’s recommendation that ministers get a substantial pay rise is taken seriously, by the way. After all, GPs get about £100,000pa, and everyone knows that they’re lazy layabouts who work about ten hours a week and don’t give a shit, so MPs should get WAY more than that.

Katy Anchant

22nd April 2013



22nd April 2013

My manly man,

Once again, darling, I am in awe at your omnipotence. I think it’s just so amazing how you can get just about anyone ANY job when you’re Prime Minister. (Well, apart from the 2.56 million lazy beggars – up by 70,000 since December – who clearly don’t WANT a job). For instance, take Michael Gove, Secretary of State for Education; no teaching qualifications, not even a background in teaching – in fact an MP’s speechwriter turned journalist – and he comes up with genius plans all the time on how best to educate the young minds of this country. Longer hours and shorter holidays he suggests, with a much stronger focus on the core subjects like mathematics – citing the example of the education systems of some East Asian countries; like North Korea for instance. Industrious places. Places that (even though ruled by someone who is quite clearly a psychopath) if you look carefully, does in fact embody many admirable qualities that I’m sure you and your party would love to see in this country – like the blind 100% loyalty of an entire nation; like a strong army with a high- grade nuclear deterrent; a country that only allows the bare minimum of human rights; a country that may hold a democratic election now and then but ultimately the ruling elite never really changes. It’s only logical that Michael would like to see a change in education that mirrors a country that, under the surface, exemplifies such fine principles.

What with Georgy Boy, also a speechwriter in his time – without an economics qualification under his already struggling belt – heading up our finances, and IBS with a background in the military and in CV-fraud heading up Work and Pensions, I wonder – now that relevant qualifications are no longer a requirement – if someone a little better looking would be more suitable than Michael Gove for Secretary of Education. Like Jimmy Nail.

Night night, my little chunky bean,

Katy Anchant

19th April 2013

19th April 2013

Oh, Poppet,

You know, it’s odd down here on the ground, because even though I am surrounded by workshy scrounging plebs who deserve to be sent forthwith to Poundland with their walking sticks, I can’t help but feel sorry for them from time to time.  You see, while the tax-avoiding, profiteering corporations are the backbone of our corpocracy (obviously), the folk down here who are ‘fit for work’ and need to eat are… folk.   They seem to have feelings and they seem to be absolutely unique and irreplaceable, each and every one.  They are honest but sick, poor but kind, and I can’t help but support them emotionally, with form filling, with a fiver here and there if I have anything in my pocket, because I know what it’s like to receive that dreaded brown envelope, to feel like a criminal for being disabled, to be found fit-for-work when you are so fragile that you simply don’t know how you will make it through another day.  Forgive me, my darling, for loving them and for helping them win back what they are entitled to, because I know how much money you need to save, and I know that you have to do it this way. 

It’s easy to see these people as numbers, it’s easy to look on them as plebs and fakers, but, inconveniently, they are human beings.  You know that Oscar Wilde quote, the one where we are all in the gutter but some of us are looking at the stars?  The irrefutable problem with human beings is that we are all looking at the stars.  It is human nature to want more.  Take your friends, for example, with millions in the bank, and yet it never seems to be enough for them.  Take my friends, with a few Pot Noodles and a disability or a minimum wage job doing something that destroys their souls through and through and leaves them with nothing.  Damn them for being human, because they seek comfort and warmth and have aspirations and dreams.  Damn them for looking at the stars, too.

I suggest a cull.

Katy Anchant

18th April 2013

18th April 2013

My little breaded mushroom,

It is such a relief that your reverent Maggie has been finally laid to rest. I do understand how the opportunity for a ten million pound party political broadcast was too good an opportunity to miss, but I am glad that there’s more of a chance now of seeing that magnificent head of yours on the news rather than hers.


I understand that George has been told off again by the IMF with yet another slashing of forecasted growth. The chief economist suggested he was “playing with fire”. It really is a shame that austerity measures still seem to be so unpopular but I think it’s because people just don’t understand how important it is that they go without for a while. I think people would get it if it was explained to them in very simple, Poundland-fun-size-pack, pleb terms. I’m no economist, (no more so than Giddy) but I’d like to give it a shot.

I’d tell it like this:  Daddy Banks has the all-important job of making money. While doing this, he happens across a ‘sure thing’ called “property”, an investment that a friend in America is making a lot of money from. He puts a stack of money into this and invites all his friends to do the same.  Unfortunately, the over-stimulating of the sector causes it to balloon out of control making it no longer affordable for anyone, so he loses everything.

Meanwhile, Mummy Cakes is employed by a company who gets all their funding from one of Daddy’s friends. As it’s a lot harder to get money now, and to maximise profit, Mummy’s job has been outsourced to someone in India at a tenth of the cost so now Mummy is out of a job.

Fortunately, though, for everybody, there is a great big fund – which has also been paid into by Mummy and all of her friends, as well as providing wages and support for her family, some of her similarly out-of-work friends, as well as the disabled who are unable to work – and this fund gets used to make sure Daddy Bank’s job is secure and the life that he has become accustomed to doesn’t change. All that’s needed is that Mummy and all of her friends have to make certain sacrifices – not big ones, just little luxuries like Pop Tarts and rent.

But Mummy should be happy because even though Daddy isn’t directly helping anybody else, he is still far more important than she, doing a far more important job than she: making sure that the banks have enough money, so that one day they can feel better about lending money again, which would refill the fund and just make everything better.

See, I’m sure if you told it something like that, people would finally understand. So when the “mess left behind by Labour” line stops working, you can always use my little parable.

Happy to help, my little Pied Piper.

Katy Anchant

16th April 2013



16th April 2013

My little choir boy,

It is with a heavy heart that I write to you today, my darling. And although sadness and indignation at the barbarism wrought upon innocent Americans yesterday also haunts my mood, there is something slightly closer to home that I wanted to talk to you about today. I want to talk about Iain.

It is for his future that I worry about, my darling, because should the polls continue as they are and he be out of a job in a couple of years, I believe he may fall foul of his own welfare reforms. With the changes to disability benefits, I do realise how the provision for mental illness has been replaced with an emphasis on the ability to walk further than 50 metres, but I think even under the new criteria, IDS may unfortunately be found not ‘fit for work’.  You see, I have been watching closely, and although his physical abilities seem to not be impaired, I do believe he may be suffering from a rather serious mental condition known as ‘Pseudologia Fantastica’ otherwise known as ‘pathological lying’.

The history of his symptoms can be traced right the way back to his reinstatement in the cabinet but have got exponentially worse in recent weeks. The first of these instances I already wrote to you about – his assertion that he was “not cutting benefits.” I perhaps thought that that would ring a few alarm bells in Parliament, at the least it would move someone to tap him on the shoulder and say “Sir, actually yes, we are actually cutting benefits. We’re cutting just about every single benefit known to man,” but it seems not, as very soon afterwards he was at it again.  He claimed there’d been a huge rise in new Disability Living Allowance claims because people wanted to avoid the new medical assessments when in fact new claims went DOWN;  his next assertion was that the huge rise in benefit spending (down to the massive rise in housing costs) was down to people choosing to stay on benefits when 9 out of 10 new claims for housing benefit are from people already IN work;  he said that a third of Incapacity Benefit claimants had dropped their claims rather than undergo a medical when official figures showed that to be a complete lie; and then he claimed that the benefit cap had already spurred 8,000 to find work, when the report he was quoting from specifically stated that that number was NOT indicative of those affected by the cap.*

While I know this mental illness doesn’t seem so serious, (in fact it’s been mostly advantageous for you) I do believe it is evidence of a deeper instability and I know how much you worry about his shiny little head.

If my health allows, I would love to pop down tomorrow to the funeral to catch a glimpse of your magnificent splendiferous brow. It’s a damn good job the ding-donging has been silenced considering the recent run up the charts for the famous Oz tune. I am so ashamed, darling, but after hearing it for the umpteenth time, from my rather uncouth yobbo friends, I did end up buying it. PLEASE forgive me. It’s just a great song, and I’m sure some other old lady who actually was a right cow HAS died recently (probably a pleb), so it could be about someone else entirely, right?

Katy Anchant

*Font reduction necessary to make room for the rather inordinate number of lies.  Plus, you know, I didn’t want to have to print a whole book out.  I’m trying to save the world here after all, one sheet of paper at a time, and ink is expensive.  And you haven’t sent me a compliment slip yet, so really it’s your fault that the font is so small.  Phone me, mmkay?

13th April 2013


13th April 2013

My little munchkin,

What ghastly goings on today! Protests left, right and centre.

But, darling, I know it’s all going to work out fine for you. And do you know why? Because today’s civil unrest will be tomorrow’s media fodder for more bashing of the “social misfit bottom feeding dregs”. When it all descends into chaos, no doubt helped along by one or two criminal elements, (and a few M&S’s and Greggs’s getting looted for sausage rolls and pasties) everyone’ll forget what all the protests were about in the first place! The protests against the spending of £20bn on nuclear weapons at the same time as the punishing cuts on the poor, and the efforts outside the millionaire houses of IDS and Lord Freud – protesting for the hundreds of thousands of people forced into poverty, the thousands that will be made homeless and the 17,000 blind people who will be forced to move out because of the “bedroom tax” – will be overshadowed by tomorrow morning’s front page pictures of the burning of dear Maggie’s effigy (including perhaps an accidental smouldering Union Flag attached to it), surrounded by a baying mob, at which point the whole thing can just be chalked up to the hate-fuelled “unemployable dross”. Yay!

It’s also pouring with rain as I type this. Let’s hope it keeps up, eh. You see, even the weather’s on your side, my Great and Powerful one.

Katy Anchant