What a wonderful month, Dear Diary. My love and affection for Obi seems reciprocated. I really have saved the world and my spin machine is at full throttle. Dearest Dolly, loving Mandy and my very faithful bum chum, my spiritual "Bride" has given me an Easter to remember. I begged him to bring down that Etonian Cabal and he has. OK, I told him to spice it up and he overdid the Tabasco but the seeds are sown. All this immediate furore was expected. After Liam Liarpantsonfirecappuccino has finished they will all believe The Camerons and Co., are all obsessive control freaks. Bit off the piste over the Ivan stuff but hell, I have an election to fiddle. A bit of nasty innuendo is worth stacks of good old Labour core support. They love me sticking it to The Toffs. Hell, they have no idea I have a Butler, that the richest man in Westminster is another old shirt tail wiper and Labour lover.
So, as I put the light out, phone The Beard to say goodnight, I can settle to a dreamless, warm slumber. I am content to offer my "Bride" for an apparent sacrifice. He knows I'll divert millions into his peerage and EU job. Mandy still adores me and I am a wonderful, warm, honest and well protected man. I do so love all this power. Guy Fawkes, never heard of him. Night night my poor, subjugated proletariat. I'll keep the red flag flying here.
Oh, bugger, I need to change my nappy!