The Dear Leader's Diary - Episode 19

I'm getting jolly fed up with all the lazy doctors and nurses! Look, it's perfectly simple. Do as I say. Work seven days a week for less money, or start complaining. And if you do complain, I will say you are no good, and some of my friends will be given your work to do. Their companies will get more money from the taxpayer than we give the NHS, obviously. But they have to make a profit, unlike you lazy lot, so their shareholders will be happy, and their directors will be able to give money to my party, to keep us in power. And it will be your fault. So there. Enough said, that's that sorted out, and I will move on the the next thing that I have to make work perfectly.

[What the enemy says.]

Next, I am going to get the Queen to read out a list of the things I am going to do to everyone else. After she has purred her way through that, and all the MPs have said how clever I am, and voted in favour of the Plan, we can roll up our sleeves, get bloody pumped, and charge into action against Europe.

My friend Lord Bamford, who has given my party about seven million pounds (a trivial amount for important chaps like us two, but quite helpful) has told me to get us out of Europe pronto. It turns out, he's down to his last three billion pounds, thanks to European Red Tape getting in the way, and forcing him to have silly safety measures slowing his factories down. Now, why on earth should we let Brussels beaurocrats slow down the wealth creation of dear Lord Bamford? He's got so much more than even I have, and some of that must surely be doing a wonderful job of trickling down from whatever country he keeps it in!

An observation about prime ministers' eyes.

Don't worry, your Dear Leader will be back soon. I just want to bring back a blast from the past, about prime ministers, that I first mentioned in 2008.

Prime ministers all have strange eyes.

There were, obviously, prime ministers before Grocer Heath, but I start with him because I found this picture disturbing. Ignore, if you can, the stupid slogan behind him. His right eye is looking straight at you, but his left eye is looking at something above you, and a bit to your right.

Sorry if I frightened your children, but we have to examine this one. She's attempting to look cute, with that tilt of the head, but it doesn't hide the disturbing eyes. Again, the right eye is looking at you. That left eye is doing the same as Grocer's, checking the thing hovering over your right shoulder. You may be in more danger than you think... 

Don't look round now!

Here we see John Major, a man with a very strange upper lip, squinting. He's trying to hide the way his right eye isn't actually looking at you, unlike his left eye.

You may be tempted to wonder whether Mrs Currie saw both of his eyes wide open, but that way lies madness. And a court case if you say too much.

Besides, the next picture is a shocker...

It is hard to convince oneself that this man is sane. I'm not even going to try. He was a Tory at Oxford, and has told big lies to start a war. Which of those eyes do you think is looking at you? 

Still, if you want an example of how to get even wealthier while messing the country up, you would have a long way to go to find a better one.

Yes, I do know that Gordon Brown is blind in his left eye, due to an injury playing rugby. I'm sure I should be very slightly sympathetic about it, as he never made a fuss about it. But it's just a game, rugby, right?

[I live in Wales, and I would like to make it quite clear that that was a joke. Rugby is extremely serious and important, as everyone knows.]

And that brings us to the current incumbent. He looks at the camera with his left eye, while the right gazes into the distance, in search of more of your property to privatise. Notice, too, that he is doing his sex-doll mouth expression.

He has two other settings for his mouth: the one where he pretends to have no lips at all, and the one where he puts his tongue between his lips. 

In the first of these three, he is in the middle of telling us that he has lowered the national debt from £8 billion to £1.5 trillion, for which we are expected to thank him. In the second, he is trying to remember which football club he is supposed to pretend to support, and in the third, he is waiting for a carefully vetted supporter to finish asking the question they have been given to read out.

No, I don't like any of the people on this page. 

How did you guess?

The Dear Leader's Diary - Epistle 18

I've had a simply super weekend, chillaxing with the right sort of people, the odd case of champagne, and I'm bloody pumped! All the things I am going to announce this week to my adoring citizens are lined up ready, and I will be able to make long, eloquent sound-bites about them. I really am made to rule this

country, apart from Scotland, where my little friend Nicola is happy to help. 

She wants another referendum and lots of extra powers, but basically, she melts when she sees me, and I can just walk all over her. All it takes is just the right pressure in a hand-shake, and I'm rather well known for that. I use the one that makes the Queen purr, and Nicola just smiles and issues another series of demands that she must surely realise I won't remember after I have had them removed from the internet. I'm surprised nobody has noticed that I can do that!

Politics is easy! I was made for it.

Later today, I will be speaking to some doctors in a place called the Wet Midlands, and tell them that I will let George give the NHS "at least £8 billion a

year by 2020". I'm still always amazed that something like that gets accepted without any argument. It doesn't mean they will get £8 billion in any of the years up to 2020, and after another five years everyone will have forgotten there was a National Health Service, anyway.

Well, there will be, but it will be safe in our hands long before then. As long as I keep assuring people it isn't being privatised, I can hand chunks of it over to my friends for much less than it is worth, plus the proper level of donations to the Conservative Party, and we can all make massive profits from it. People are not even going to notice that even if we do give it £8 billion, or any other even bigger amount, from the taxpayers, it will all just go straight to the shareholders. And that's how a health service should work!

I shall tell them that there is nothing that embodies the spirit of One Nation coming together - nothing that working people depend on more - than the NHS, and get the usual enthusiastic applause from the audience the local party branch has provided for me. A good day's work, and I shall be entitled to chillax with some more Bollinger. 

The Dear Leader's Diary - 17

It makes me bloody pumped up with pride, when I think how tremendously wonderful I am. All on my own, with no help from the media, I got everyone in the country to vote for me, apart from a tiny group of about 76% who were unable to understand how brilliant I am.

In completely unrelated 
news, apparently Rupert Murdoch, the very important media magnate that I am not influenced by in any way, says that my new cabinet appointments are "surprisingly good", in his completely independent opinion. He's quite right, of course. 

And here's a super example! Little Nicky Morgan has proved that she is a far better minister than that oik, Gove. Sacking failing head teachers, and at the same time cutting the budgets of council schools, can't fail to improve education for all the children of hard working families who can afford our excellent academies. Quite sensibly, she didn't waste time finding out what the actual statistics are, but immediately told Andrew Marr in no uncertain way, that what we have done to education is the only sensible way to procede. After all, any hard working family that wants the best for its children will send them to Eton.

Michael Gove has been working jolly hard, sleeves rolled up, and bloody pumped as well, which makes me like him even more, since he was made Justice Secretary and Lord Chancellor by me, last weekend.  Instead of saying something bad people would latch onto, like "scrapping the Human Rights Act", he very sensibly said, "We’ll be seeking to ensure that human rights are enhanced and preserved by modernising and reforming the framework of rights in this country". Gove and I both feel the Human Rights Act and the judgements of the Strasbourg Court on things like prisoner voting have actually been harmful to the cause of human rights in this country. And that's what matters! Getting people to think we are modernising and reforming, nice, positive words that the plebs will be convinced by. Fortunately, nobody has noticed they will have almost no rights left unless they can afford to go to court. 

The Dear Leader's Diary - 16

Much to my surprise, my iPad can do more than just play the amazing game, Fruit Ninja! I have worked out a way to make it display books as well. Who says I know nothing about computers? I have found a fascinating book, called "Whipping Up A Storm", full of fascinating anecdotes by an old friend of George's. And he's even managed to get a picture of himself on the cover. 

I'm not sure what that white powder is, or why it's on a book cover though. I'll have to ask one of the little people who assist me by remembering things for me. And who rolls their banknotes up like that? One can carry far more of them if they are kept flat. And the £50 notes burn much better in front of "homeless" people if you keep your bundle of them flat, as well.

I may need to give George some advice about choosing his friends more carefully. I'm sure he won't mind, as he has always taken my advice about things, like never being too obviously sloshed or stoned or whatever the current idiom is. It's well known that I can make friends at every level, even high up newspaper people.

And I stand by my friends, like Mr Coulson, right up until they get dragged off to jail. Then I get everything connecting to me edited off the internet, and all is well.