Gosh, in all the excitement of getting rid of the Liberal Democrats, who were holding us back from realising our dreams for this wonderful nation, I realise I have failed to make sure you all know as much about me as you should.
I spent the first three years of my life in humble houses in Kensington and Chelsea before my family moved to an old rectory near Newbury, in Βerkshire. Ιn spite of being born with deformed legs, my father practically invented the idea of keeping ones' money safe in other countries, to stop it trickling down to the poor, who would only buy alcohol with it. When I was seven, my family sent me to a jolly nice prep school, so that I wouldn't become too emotionally attached to them.
And then, just like everyone else, I went to Eton. My biggest mention in the Eton school magazine came when I sprained my ankle dancing to bagpipes, on a school trip to Rome. Well, I'm sure we've all been there. Anyone who says anything about cannabis at this point is going to make me a bit cross. Nobody has any evidence.
Then, Oxford invited me to join them. Naturally, as I had simply oodles of loot, like all the other students, I was invited to join the Bullingdon Club. Many people have failed to understand that this was a charitable organisation, where we would help the poor to understand the value of money by burning £50 notes in front of them when they were pretending to be homeless. I refuse to discuss whether I took drugs at Oxford. I may have had the occasional drink, but rarely more than five bottles of Champagne a day. This sensible approach ensured I was not brain damaged. I don't remember smashing up any restaurants.
As so often happens, an anonymous person at Buckingham Palace advised the Conservative Party that I was "a truly remarkable young man", and now I have shown everyone that anyone at all can be a success. Why more of our young people, "hoodies" as they are called, don't simply do as I have done is a mystery to me.