Day 1

Breakfast

I am livid. The local brownie pack has taken over the park and they are selling lemonade and  homemade cakes.  The sixth form from the local school has started a rock festival in the village square and they are having a love-in. The tree huggers have stopped my workers from building my shopping center and have even cleared the pigeon shit off the war memorials. Don’t they know what danger they are in ? Thugs with sticks could come and beat them over the head or set fire to their tents. Now that’s an idea!

Elevenses: Some bitch was whining in the local free newspaper (which up until now I thought I controlled) that my political party abused the last electoral process by bussing in mental defectives, the clinically insane and old people with senile dementia to vote. What is this stupid cow complaining about ? They have a right to vote just like everyone else. All we did was give them a little help and showed them where to write the cross on the ballot paper.  If the villagers stopped having sex with their relatives then none of this would have happened.

Afternoon Chai. I have met with the local vicars and they have demanded that I finally deliver the religious government that I promised them in exchange for the votes of their congregation some ten years ago when I was in jail on totally unfounded animal molestation charges.

Dinner time. 

I have issued a decree that the new shopping center idea be abandoned and that instead a barracks should be built  - a memorial to the last bastion of the revolution against that old soak whose name I shall not ever mention. That’ll show ‘em! With that I have proved that I am a flexible and a listening politician. Mrs T. is livid and has gone to bed with one of her headaches.

Supper: I have discovered who is behind the protests! It is an international conspiracy of Jewish bankers and their speculators. It’s enough to drive one to drink. I know it’s wrong and sinful but in such times, as leader of the village, I feel that sometimes I have the right to a glass of the hard stuff.

Five minutes later 

Shit! The bottle is empty. Mrs T has been tippling again. I have banned the sale of alcohol after dark and the local off licence is closed.  How am I going to cure my shakes now?