13th May 2015
Hello my little pink flip-flop,
I had the most wonderful idea for you, my cherubim. I was sitting pondering yesterday what new tactics you will be able to come up with to distract people from the bigger picture whilst you slowly sell off the NHS and strip everyone’s rights away. You know how you and old Rupert have somehow managed to get everyone to hate, well, just about everyone? Well, during the election there was this highly un-PC and quite offensive epithet being bandied around: the ‘Leftard’. (At the time it did occur to me that actually, ‘Rightard’ would work much better, but that would never do.)
Anyway, everyone already hates anyone who can’t find a job, is terminally ill or who is desperately trying to claim the lavish overpayments of benefits that they’ve paid into for their entire lives, so who next?
Obviously it can’t be the corporations because we love them, or those lovely fox hunters, because we love them too, but why not, wait for it, the lefties? I mean, not those awful Labour voters because we already hate them, but the left-handed people? (You probably know them as sinistral because you is right well ejookated like.)
Anyway, you somehow managed to get lots of folk highly suspicious of disabled folk and literally spitting at those who can’t afford to eat, so I thought maybe lefties could be despised for having left-oriented brains, often having quite poor handwriting and of course, cruelty to cute animals. Except not foxes because we hate those little bastards. No, I mean cruelty to Corgi puppies and Foxhounds. It could be front page news with a small page 7 retraction a few weeks later, by which time the damage would be done.
Mwahaha, darling. It’s a cunning plan. Even more cunning than a fox with a bushy tail.
Congrats on the timely despatch of the pretenders to your throne, because let’s face it, you are a king amongst men. Gone is the Cleggbot, and that dreary Millipede. Tell me, will you have any problems transporting the original Clegg cadaver from your filing cabinet to a more convenient location? Will you be able to reuse the Cleggbot and change his programming a bit so that he can be a butler?
Anyway, your fabulous victory. I saw the TV footage of you getting out of the Jag at Buck house. It took me back to those old Colgate adverts, the sun shining off your perfect teeth. I would have been there in person, but I’ve been struggling to fight my way through the huge crowds of Eastern Europeans who have swamped my lovely, erstwhile quiet suburb. I can’t wait for your referendum on the whole EU thingy, to be honest I don’t really understand it all as I’m only a girl, but I’d GLADLY give up my human rights as long as they, umm, stop working so hard for so little pay and stop contributing loads to the economy.
Anyway, that doesn’t matter, they ain’t from round here, so send them all back! Better still maybe we could cut England out of the middle bit and float it away a bit, then we can stay all lovely and Anglo Saxon with our German/Greek Royal Family and not have to think about those angry Scots and those funny Welsh people. Also, could you please sort out Cif and Snickers bars, and what was wrong with Opal Fruits?
So be a love and get it sorted out quickly. Maybe we can discuss it over dinner, and a bit of afters, if you know what I mean?
Tatty bye for now
7th May 2015
My majestic, magnificent, masterful, manly man!
Happy Election Day! I’m on tenterhooks, darling. What is going to happen? (Please forgive my over-exuberance, I’m a little drunk.)
You see, (and this is why I haven’t written to you since the last budget) I was so determined to take advantage of the lovely gesture that Giddy made of taking a penny off beer, that I have spent the last few months consuming a thousand pints and can now proudly say that, because of George Osborne, I am now ten pounds richer! (Ignoring, of course, the £2,500+ in tax credits he took away from me, but I forgave him long ago for that. We’re all in this together, remember.)
Mind you, I probably shouldn’t have downed that last pint in one go just before heading to the booths. I think I may have thrown up on my local Tory candidate. Oops.
Anyway, I’m just going to email this as my printer doesn’t work because I know you’ll eventually get to see it and you’ll know that I’m still behind you all the way, hoping you’ll break a leg. And if, in a million to one chance, you’re no longer in Number 10 come tomorrow, you will forward me your new address won’t you darling? But you will be victorious, darling. I know you will.
How fitting that it’s VE Day tomorrow. In time to come they’ll name today VD Day!