On the throne.
One of my great pleasures in life is issuing life or death decrees while on my morning throne. One day, when the Caliphate is finally established, and it is written in my holy book that it will be so, I will get the parish council to shell out for a proper one, bedecked in jewels – saphires, emeralds and smelling of holy herbs like gold and Frankenstein.
An infidel writer has approached me and begged that I deign to share my innermost thoughts and feelings with the shires beyond our heavily armed borders. He said everything I say and do is comedy gold. What a compliment!
Lunch.
I have returned from my state hospital hobbling with my foot in bandages after a shooting accident. The maid annoyed me by refusing a reasonable request and so I took a potshot at her. I’ll have to wipe my own arse from now on (sigh). You just can’t get the staff anymore. The doctor said that if I shoot myself in the foot just one more time then no one will take me seriously anymore. I’d get someone in to fix the bullet holes in the toilet door but they are all either in jail, the hospital or in my police force.
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