My Jolly Secret Diary, part 22, by DC.

I am beginning to suspect people have been reading this, my Secret Diary, with a complete disregard for my absolute right to privacy. So, if you are looking at this document on my private, personal iPad, whomsoever you may happen to be, rest assured that I shall get my friends with the impressive office in a certain Gloucestershire town (but I'm carefully not saying which!) to find out who you are. I have quietly given them the go-ahead to look at every computer in this wonderful free country of ours, except mine, obviously. I'm sure they will get on with that just as soon as they have finished checking all the pictures they took with all the webcams they accessed. And of course, they will be careful to delete any pictures of underage girlies they may have accidentally taken, as soon as they have all examined them carefully.

I recently found that there was a jolly clever article about how nobody had the sense to challenge our narrative at election time, and the way we pretended everything was Labour's fault, even when it was actually the fault of some members of our administration like poor, silly little Clegg, or something over which we had no control at all. Blaming Labour for the banking collapses, Bernie Madoff, inflation and all the other things they had no control of was a brilliant master-stroke of presentation, which yours truly is proud of. (Of course, Lynton thinks it was him, but only I know just how clever I am.) I will have to get this Bernal fellow removed from the internet, the way I did with all the "promises, vows, and pledges" people imagine I made.

The picture of the secret building in Cheltenham Gloucestershire has reminded me that this Bernal chap is also part of a secret cabal, "academics" they call themselves, as if that meant they know more than me. They are writing ridiculous "open letters" about how I make the law which suggest that I should waste Parliamentary time with discussions of all the important things that are done in that building. This idea that I, the Prime Minister, can't make up a law all on my own, is deeply unpatriotic, and I think I will have these "academics" sacked and deported. They must think they have rights!

The Dear Leader's Diary - Episode 21

Well, here we are! Another week of our wonderful United Kingdom's new-found democracy, rewarding all hard-working families and not those other people, is almost at a close. An awful lot of lazy slackers are saying I wouldn't have won the election by a huge majority of four, if Rupert Murdoch's newspapers had not all, completely independently, given me their support. The fact is, of course, that I have never even met Mr Murdoch. But the Vote-OK group, chaired by Lord Astor (Samantha's lovely step-father) made it their business to go out and campaign for me in several key seats, where thousands of hunt workers have had ten years without their rightful jobs.  

Horrid TV interviewers keep asking me if hunting foxes and watching them be ripped to shreds is my favourite sport, as if they hadn't even heard of West Villa, or is it Aston Ham? Of course, I outfoxed them, by cleverly answering a different question, and saying I hadn't been on a horse in years! It's not difficult to get these people to stop asking the wrong questions, as most of them have never been near Eton. As the survey above, in a tabloid newspaper that Mr Murdoch doesn't own yet, shows, 20% want fox hunting back, and that's nearly as many as voted to get me back. The Queen's Speech will include the removal of the evil Labour ban on huntin' and I'm sure she will purr when she sees it!

David Cameron's Secret Diary - 20

I am once again totally bloody pumped by how much fun all this is, now that we can do what we jolly well like to the country without that silly child, Clegg, slowing us down and arguing about everything. Not that we ever let him get his way, of course, though he quite often thought he had.

Didn't we have fun, George and I, choosing which jobs we would give to the oiks who hadn't been to Eton and Oxford! What were their parents thinking of? Your children will never get anywhere, if you don't buy them a better education than the peasants get. We lowered education standards for the unwashed hard-working people in our previous government by letting Gove be in charge of it.

I think people will be impressed by how rapidly Gove messes up the Justice ministry as well. We didn't give him the job because we thought he could do it, but because we wanted to make him wear ridiculous clothes!

Only the other day, I quite rightly said Lord JCB was being jolly sensible in saying we should get out of Europe as fast as possible, and he gave our Party lots of dosh. And now, all my super friends in the CBI are saying, quite rightly, that it's vital we should stay in. They are jolly sensible, and I would like them to give the Party huge amounts of moolah to help us deliver. Britain deserves the best government money can buy!

There seems to be a dreadfully negative attitude amongst many of the hoi polloi, lately. A lot of them seem to think that in spite of the huge 24% of the voters enthusiastically supporting us, the tiny 76% who were against us have some sort of right to try to get us removed from our rightful place. And that is why I am going to take away human rights from these foolish sub-humans. We can't tolerate that sort of thing! Goodness me, if we go letting any old Tom, Richard, or Harry say things online, we will soon be in a shocking mess. I must make up some sort of internet censorship system for GCHQ to use against these anarchist extremists. I'm very clever, so it will only take five minutes.

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?