Friday 14 June 2013

Day 3

Breakfast. 

”I am confused,” I declared as I tucked in to my breakfast. Mrs T nodded and smiled one of her Mona Lisa smiles.

“Why is the entire population of my county walking around looking like the homosexual infidel pop group The Village People ?”

No answer. Just a sigh.

“My people are all walking around in building site hard hats and wearing tool belts,” I declared. “And they are wearing surgical masks. One is a worker and one is a doctor. The two uniforms don’t even match. Is this some sort of new mix and match fashion?”

“Yes and they are inspired by you dear,” she said.

Lunchtime. 

I have told my newly formed TV News Watchdog to fine all these new TV stations for showing the disturbing pictures of my policemen beating the crap out of demonstrators to young people.   These journalists have corrupted the development of our youth and now they must pay. I have issued a decree to my newly founded defense research team to find a way of destroying the infidel satellites that are responsible for this blasphemy. My station, SEE-NN, showed my penguin documentary as instructed so they are exempt from any fine.

Afternoon Chai.

Bwa-haha! My influence reaches out far beyond my county’s borders. Even the all-powerful infidels at the BeeBeeSee in the far away county of Ingerlanshire are running chicken-shit. My press officers have advised them that if they mention even once the full name of that cultural center in the village square then I will order the arrest of their crews and cut off their man-parts, as is advised in our religion. Actually I think the BeeBeeSee’s reporters lost their man parts a long time ago.

Dinner Time. 

I dined on deliciously boiled puppies served with garlic. I have spent the last two hours talking to the protesters’ negotiators, whom I appointed, and who (I am so clever) have nothing to do with the protests themselves and who had sat at home watching it all on TV. I have promised them a referendum in which the entire population of the village (but not the shire) will vote only yes on the following question:

Should the nameless crappy cultural center (which everyone should forget) be knocked down and the village square be turned into a beautiful military barracks ?

What’s not to like ?

Bedtime.

An infidel journalist has compared me to Adolf Hitler.  There are huge differences between Adolf Hitler and myself.

1) Adolf Hitler wrote Mein Kampf in his prison cell. I wrote a poem about sheep.

2) Afterwards, Hitler founded the extremist  Nazi party.  I founded my liberal party, the APK.

3) Hitler only gassed the Jews. I gas everyone.

4) Hitler’s brown shirts brutalized opponents. My men brutalize everyone.

5)Hitler built a network of excellent roads. My shire only has pot holes.

Journalists are idiots. They will say anything for a story.

Publisher’s note: Stay tuned for another thrilling episode!

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