MERRY CHRISTMAS

A brainwave! I have hit on a plan that will at the same time show my serious credentials as Prime Minister in waiting and my ability to tackle the financial crisis. I have decided to ban all Foreign Office Christmas parties!!! I will then get that scruffy individual in News Department to leak this hardnosed decision to the press, and hey presto, I will be man of the hour, if not the era. I expect all the toadies in my Private Office will be sniffy, as December is the time they traditionally range out and drink other people's booze. But I am resolute. The Lying Scotsman will be so jealous when he hears that I have once again upstaged him.
Pass the Advocaat!!

CAREER CHANGE

When I was younger (so much younger than today) I wanted to be a bus conductor. I have changed my mind. I was browsing through the very interesting articles in some back copies of Playboy magazine, when I came across this photo. I now want to be a tattoo artist.

Katie Price is such an intellectual heavyweight and her books are a great holiday read. I have recommended them to all the toadies in my Private Office, though they simply snigger and look embarrassed.

PRESIDENT B LIAR

Oh no! He's back. The papers are saying that the snake Bliar is to be the next President of Europe. I will have to ask one of the minions in King Charles Street exactly what this means, but I am sure no good can come of it. He will doubtless find countless reasons to visit London and we will have to fawn and toady to him. The Lying Scotsman won't like it one bit. That German woman with the proud bosum, Angela, doesn't like Bliar either. But silly little Sarkozy seems to be encouraging him, for reasons no one can explain. Just Frog mischief I guess. As usual, it's all one big Euro-mess. Could Bliar possibly become Pope as well, one wonders?

THE LYING SCOTSMAN

Well, thank god it is over. Another party conference, another ghastly experience. When I saw myself on TV trying to smile while The Lying Scotsman was churning out the usual garbage, I was nearly sick.

And what on earth was that business with his wife all about? So awful, so American. Don't get me wrong,Sarah is a real sweetie and I wouldn't mind rummaging around in her red box, but it is a typically low trick from the Lying Scotsman to trot her out before the public. If he really wanted to get some media attention she should have shown a bit more flesh, like the photo above. That way we wouldn't have lost the support of The Sun.

He is desperate, and it shows. He knows he is not up to the job, but can't bear to have someone truly talented, like me, do it for him. It is only a matter of time until he will once again be tossing cabers back at the croft, or whatever the jocks do for fun during the 11 months winter they have to endure.

MOUSTACHE

There is no getting away from it, my moustache is clearly visible in this photo. Whoopeee!!

TODAY PROGRAMME

I hate John Humphries. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I really hate John Humphries. I went on his "flagship" radio programme with the perfectly reasonable objective of presenting myself as a future Prime Minister (ie not at all like the Prime Ditherer we have now).

All was going swimmingly. I had spent the previous evening reading back copies of the Economist (though was rather distracted by my wife, Louise, scraping away in the background on her ghastly fiddle) and was thoroughly prepared for the usual rough and tumble of political debate. Being such a brilliant thinker, I can hold my own in any forum.

But then the worm Humphries came out with the killer question. If the Prime Ditherer's economic recovery plan was so fucking brilliant (I paraphrase) why was the pound falling off the map? Doh, I should have thought it was fucking obvious. But I couldn't come out with the real reason on national radio. Of course the plan is crap. It was dreamt up by the one eyed wanker and his seedy Scottish glove puppet in the Treasury.

How I wanted to spill the beans. But it is not the time. I stonewalled cleverly by saying I was not going to enter into a running commentary on the pound. Humphries wasn't asking me to, of course, and was momentarily thrown by my brilliant gambit. But the poisonous Welsh streak in him came to the fore and he kept going back to the jugular. I thought of putting the phone down, or feigning heart attack, but in the end I saw it through. Humphries 1, Millerband 0, I fear.

What a horrible experience. I thought we always had that unpleasant jock, John Reid, to the handle the Today programme, but I now understand he is no longer in government. We always used to wheel him out to do the difficult stuff on Iraq. Perhaps he could do the snow job on the economy. I'll mention it in Cabinet. Meanwhile, if the Today programme asks for another interview I shall tell them to phone my brother Glen, or the Prime Ditherer himself. He created this mess, so let him defend his lunatic policies!! Save the world indeed!

GLEN MILLERBAND

My little brother, Glen, seems to be becoming famous in his own right. Perhaps I will have to find a space for him in my government, when I eventually take over (though I have never quite forgiven him for that incident with the cucumber on my 13th birthday). Unlike me, he is featured prominently in today's Times, having made an oh-so-fucking worthy speech about all that climate change bollocks. This is how the article starts:

" Glen Millerband, the Energy and Climate Change Secretary, appeared to be on a collision course with Britain's big power companies last night as he called for sweeping reforms to the industry, including greater state control and a retreat from the free market orthodoxy of the past two decades [Comment: God, I am bored witless already. DM].

In one of his first big speeches since his appointment as head of a new Department of Energy and Climate Change [Comment: I make big speeches all the time, though you would hardly know it from reading The Times. DM]. Mr Millerband signalled a departure in UK energy policy by suggesting that a more muscular approach would be needed from government to tackle the challenges of fighting climate change, curbing fuel poverty and securing long-term energy supplies".

I suppose the "more muscular approach" hinges on the new EU regulation banning good old fashioned light bulbs, in favour of those ghastly low energy things that no one can read by. I'm also not sure how building new runways at Heathrow and Stanstead will tie in with it all. The fact is, as I said at Cabinet the other day, all this climate change stuff is far from proven. No one in government really believes it, especially the Prime Ditherer. If we did we would take some form of serious action, like, er, well, um, banning something. But we don't, so roll on those long, hot summers. My Cabinet colleagues shuffled around a bit, but I could tell they all agreed with me (knowing as they do that I am the most brilliant thinker among them).

When I got back to the Foreign Office I summoned my Chief Toady (aka Principal Private Secretary) and told him how I had grabbed the bull by the bollocks at Cabinet. Surely you mean by the horns, Foreign Secretary, he tittered. You grab your bull where you want and I'll grab mine where I want, I shot back with a steely
glare.

If I might point out, the Chief Toady went on, that Climate Change is now a major priority for the Foreign Office, one that is enabling us to fill jobs all over the world, and in so doing spend lots of tax payers' lolly. This was all news to me, but I didn't let on. I just sent him off for some coffee and a digestive. I can't understand why the Foreign Office has become involved in climate change. It has bugger all to do with diplomacy. But perhaps I should ring Glen and tell him to get his kids of my lawn (before I have it paved over as a car park!).