Saturday, June 21, 2003

Anyway, I was down at Westminster today. Yeah, I have been sleeping with Tony Blair for several months now. It's just sex, no love, but of course for some six months now his doctors have realised his entire body is just locked into East Coast time and won't be shifted. And since the time in 1985 where we were saved from Ronald Raygun launching thermonuclear death against the USSR only by some quick thinking and sucking from George Bush Senior it has been policy in the Western World for all political leaders to have some means of sexual relief when they need it. George W. Bush has Lassie, after she retired from making the films, though due to quarantine laws would have to make do with David Blunkett's guide dog should he ever come over here.

So, I tend to arrive at around 11:00 am. Typically the Premier of our country is walking around in his star-spangled jock-strap rather quickly. I either dress up as George the Big Butch Cowboy or Margaret the Stern Headmistress, depending how agitated he is. He's the bottom if I'm George, if I'm Margaret we have a S/M session first (I tie him up, agree a 'safe' word then after the nipple clamps go on tell him I think 'safe' words are for little girls) and then he's still the bottom afterwards. I don't mind all this but sometimes he's unable to come unless he has a Diana impersonator in the room or an Iraqi orphan telling him how grateful she is that he's ridden her country of the evil barbarous regime of Saddam.

When he's spent I leave quietly through the garden exit. I don't get paid but when my time is up I'll get a knighthood, a third-rate university library named after me and a wish. And so in the Queens Speech next Autumn you will hear that a Bill will be passed to make it legal to libel Lord Archer of Milton Keynes in anyway you want, the stupid knobheaded lying fucker.

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