12th May 2014
My darling David,
I have a confession.
Sometimes, when there’s no-one about, I like to Google myself. Of course, I would always do you first, before me, you know that, my love, but when I finally did Google myself, I can’t tell you how pleased I was when the first thing that came up were my letters to you.
It kind of makes it all worth it, to know that up there on that worldwide web thingy, conserved for all time, is my love for you, completely covered in your masterful strokes, political thrusts and famous debates.
I realise right now you’re a little worried that perhaps you won’t be around for a second term in office, what with Milliband trying to convince people that Labour had nothing to do with HS2 or ATOS or cutting people’s benefits, and if you vote for him everybody will suddenly have more money; and also UKIP, convincing people that if you don’t vote for them, some Bulgarian will murder them in their sleep before taking their job. But fret not, my love, because up there, in that big web archive in the sky, is evidence that there’s only one thing you really need to do to win the next election: lie!
Just like you did in the last election, my darling.
You promised all sorts of things, like you wouldn’t cut the NHS, (“we’ll cut the deficit, not the NHS” you said), you wouldn’t raise VAT, (of course you then raised it to a record 20%), you would do something about the government’s massive overspending that apparently landed us all in this mess in the first place (and then you end up borrowing more in three years than Labour did in thirteen), you wouldn’t cut student funding (and then axed the educational maintenance allowance), you would take care of the disabled (you said, and I must quote this because it is pretty hilarious in retrospect: “the disabled, far from being a soft target and an easy touch for a Government, are a group of vulnerable people who should be the last people to be disadvantaged when changes are made to our welfare.” Yes, you actually said that, my love. And then you go and introduce the Bedroom Tax which targeted 660,000 people, two-thirds of which were disabled). And I could go on, but I think you see my point: it doesn’t matter what you promise before an election because once you’re in, you can do whatever you jolly-well like.
So, just go for your life, my lovely. Promise more doctors, promise more affordable housing, promise less spending on the enforcement of the use of the word “pleb”, promise a referendum on whether we should have a public flogging of Iain Duncan Smith, promise free bacon rolls for Jobseekers. Just go all over the top and flamboyant, my love.
Happy to help, my favourite PM.
P.S. I know I was just thinking off the top of my head there, but actually that flogging thing isn’t a half bad idea….