The despair Of The British nation.

Tuesday, 30 June 2009

In The Fuhrer’s "Mind"?


Jim’s Musings And Fears.




It seemed ages since he had found time to use the wooden steed and dress in his favourite outfit. Now, as the summer recess approached he had escaped the constant and cloying presence of Mincy, everywhere he went. It was becoming no longer a joy that snake was back, drooling all over his protégé. His grooming was paying dividends; the androgynous spouse was accepting his behaviour in return for wedges of dosh. Then suddenly all that hard work sees those two whispering in corners, exchanging notes like a pair of star struck school kiddies. "Why oh why did I bring him back!", he mused.
As for the state of the nation. What is wrong with people? Why is the economy in such a mess when my brilliance, deviance and printing presses are flat out? The worst quarterly decline in output since 1958, for fuck’s sake. We had only just dropped rationing, Coventry was still flattened by my alter ego and people lived in slums. Still no change there then.
He slowed his rocking; a small tear fell from his eye. He knew his blustering and loss of control over the economy was bad but Cameron’s attacks were painful. The truth is so much more hurtful than spin and obfuscation. Then there is this election clock countdown thingy. OK 16% of The EU vote was bad but our plans to give the keys to Jose Manuel, as soon as The Irish are bamboozled, are well advanced but that bloody clock stays in my mind.
The rocking speeded up as he tried to block the Norwich election from his mind along with that countdown clock. Unnoticed two figures had appeared quietly by the steel, gas proof door.
“He’s back down here then” hissed the tall angular one. “I knew he would be”, said the chubby, smug one. “Well, Bunty,” the snake flickered, “At least we know no one else sees this carry on”.
Bunty, stung by the manner of the cobra’s address, thought of the fact that the whole cabinet knew but kept this knowledge to himself.
As he mused he was caught off guard. “I can here you pair of love struck arseholes” screamed the roly poly figure, crashing to the ground. It lay on its back, thrashing its naked legs in the air, unable to stand, the toweling stranding him like a beetle on its back. “I’m still in charge, me, me, me, Prime Minister, First Lord of This and That”, it shouted, the voice and jaw working in opposition to each other as the rage grew and grew. “You streak of snake venom filled piss, Fondlebum and you tub of Hattersley lard, Testes Brain, I’ll show the pair of you. Scorched earth, you’ve seen nothing yet. I’ll take you all with me, just you see.”
The Butler came rushing in, rolled him on his front then helped him into a weird, Hogwarts like child’s seat, a gift from the deluded author. On the table were other gifts. A nail kit from a BBC reporter, a poison pen from an old woman colleague, indeed one of many, cartons of pills. It was from one of these the figure took a handful and stuffed them into his mouth.
As the chewing subsided he waved the butler away and beckoned the two men to approach him. In a hoarse whisper, the men had to stoop to hear, he spluttered, “It all went wrong in America. My secrets became their secrets; they made me buy those dodgy mortgages they forced Smoothie to go to war. It all began in America.” He slumped into the chair as the pills hit. They covered him with a blanket and tiptoed out, not a word was exchanged.



2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Bunty Balls has a certain "ring" to it!

Anonymous said...

An excellent bit of entertainment. I'm surprised at so few comments!