We're Calling It "Blair-Plus"

"Hello Prime Minister," Michael and Ken would say to me when they came round to my house when I was a boy, "you're going to be the most famous man in the country when you grow up!"

Compare that to the other kids in school. When they were asked "what do you want to be when you grow up?" they had to use their imaginations. I already knew!

But they never told me what the job would mean. They didn't tell me I would have to take the hit for all their maneuverings over the last forty years. And they didn't tell me I would have to share the puppet strings with a lapdog.

Well, as it turns out, I don't mind having Little Nicky sitting on my lap. It relaxes me, so that the hassle doesn't get to me, and I'm able to do what Ken and Michael tell me to do. And, boy, what an agenda they have for me.

They're calling it "Blair-Plus," and let me tell you what it is. Its only the end of the British Parliament, that's all. We're going to take every last semblance of power away from these idiot MPs, and give it to third sector corporatised charities and NGOs instead. This is the final stage of corporatisation - we're bringing it right out into the open. Mussolini would look at me wide eyed with awe, were he alive today.

I don't mind admitting that this is the reality of the "Big Society." What are you lot of plebs going to do about it anyway? Sit in a corner and whine? I soon sorted out those 1922 geriatrics!

Everything, and I mean everything, is going to be about profit. Because profit is the driver that keeps you lot running around that hamster wheel; too busy and distracted to see a way off. Oh, and theft. Profit and theft. That's £450 million you thought would be sitting in those savings accounts for a rainy day. I'm having it.

Look, there's nothing you can do about it!

This has been planned for years. Did you never wonder why Ken took Tony to the Bilderberg meeting, but never me? It's because I have been groomed for this since the day I was born. I am untouchable, you hear me? That's why I hid behind George during his budget speech. None of the brown stuff will stick to me.

My friends with a common purpose have been working for years to set up an army of brown shirts to protect me, fully trained leaders, straight out of prison. And now I'm going to give them the vote.

At the same time, Nicky is being allowed to run with his electoral reform ideas. "Fewer MPs" is being used as the excuse to redraw the constituency boundaries yet again, based very much on demographic data we're gathering on you all.

You'll notice we're doing everything we can to disarm you all. First it was handguns, then dangerous dogs and knives, next its shotguns. We send out our operatives and manchurian candidates so that we can fill the news with events which will appall and cause fear. And you, you suckers, you scream at us to fix it for you. And fix it I will. I mean, there is no farming left in Britain, so there's really no legitimate reason left to possess a shotgun, is there?

The only thing that really disgusts me is all the schmoosing I have to do with filthy journalists. I suppose that's the price to be paid for the propoganda that'll keep the Big Society on track.