|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It is with much relief my good friend David Cameron launched a consultation on criminalising all squatting in residential buildings. On 1 November, just five days after the consultation ended, the government made a helpful amendment to the legal aid bill. The homeless who have made accommodation in my hundreds of empty houses will summarily evicted. The new law will help, not unscrupulous landlords as has been suggested by loony left, but the rightfully rich to evict tenants where there is no written contract, by declaring them squatters and calling the police. I never give my tenants a written contract: my word is my bond. It is also to my expected relief that the government will take a leisurely approach to banking reform. It will wait until 2019 to implement the draconian measures proposed by my once dinner party guest John Vickers. The date is distant enough to allow the chipping away until the proposal becomes ineffective. David is a top politico he creates an impression of action whilst being as ineffective as possible against the upper orders. The poor should be and will be harried by draconian laws and paranoid policing. And it is in this spirit of ‘All in it together’ that we can be proud of our nation.
Schools will close for a day. Lower class British schools are there to teach poor children how to think and behave towards there betters. The very thought that the lower orders ought to have critical thinking skills is Terrorism in name. Better they learn enough to read my tabloid newspaper ‘LORD SUN’ and accept every word as truth than have them question who is owns the rag and what agenda I have? Why, if this continues we will have change, and that can never be allowed. My businesses might have had to close, but I have hired Serco, the security company, to supply me with low paid, uneducated sheeepeople to scab. What a wonderful species Scabs are: loyal and unthinking, just like the good British solider who fights wars for me under the fictional identity of ’My Country’ Any organization that brings the country to a halt must be accused as an enemy. The Royal Wedding of Prince William Kate Middleton is of course a different matter entirely. The wonderful couple are loved by the whole country. BBC coverage alone of the truly romantic and patriotic event proves this. Whereas, filthy strikers are hated by all, and BBC coverage alone again proves this. Those who deny this fact are traitors. Carpet! Are there you are Carpet, bring me a huge brandy and send in those Polish girls from Tilbury. The ones that Serco border officers let in. Now, Carpet, go kneel at my former servants grave in the woods and say twelve Our Fathers and twenty nine Hail Marys.
My employee John (Eggy) Humphreys did a rather good critique of the Welfare State don't you suppose. I do not wish to be presumptuous, but may I say, soon to be Sir Eggy did a rather marvellous job at convincing the potato eaters that it is all their fault and has nothing whatsoever to do with us. Aneuin Bevan, communist you know, and a wonderful friend of mine, used to call him Nye. Never met him. Had this pie in the sky idea of a 'safety net' so that the some of the populace could not fall into destitution. I will not go into the ugly awfulness, but some go without ponies! I have no idea why. I had seven good running coal mines until my dear friend Margret T convinced me that Wall Street calls. Unrestricted finance is good business. The poor would not be poor if they invested. The outdated idea of national citizenship is gone. We live in a global village now. Nations are a thing of the past, mind you to keep the coal eaters in their place it is healthy that they fight amongst each other. One village against the other, one town against the other, cities and nations fighting and squabbling while we own the very earth the rabble walk on. I do not enjoin with sports, only when a fight then I direct my satellite to watch them all killing each other. What a wonderful world as my once hired wog used to sing. The very concept of equality keeps the masses alive, it is stupid, but handy if one wishes to control populaces'. I spoke to the Pope. He said, "God, while talking to the Devil, looked at suffering humanity said I'll give them Religion. The Devil said, "I'll administer it"
Where is my Butler? Chillings! No he was killed with the cook. I did hire another - Stephen Fry. Fry, bring me a large bottle of brandy and that new girl, em, Cole, reminds me of home, yes Cheryl Ann Cole. Thank you Fry.
One point three billion, three half crowns, six tuppances and several loose shillings! A rouge trader indeed! I brought the lad up myself to deal in the way I did. Now he has disgruntled. Foiled me not! The black bartered, I will speak to the highest judge in the land, Goosejaw Jones and my friend in MI7, MI6 are no bloody good, they did the initial background check on the nigger. Highly intelligent they said he was. Yes, very, so intelligent he has done Lord Rabbits Bank out of all that cash. I’ll have to sell that Caribbean Island, no better, my coal mine in Wales, four lower orders trapped. I could get some money from the stupid tax ants. But wait, I am thinking too far ahead. First get that shit. Has he family? A daughter perhaps? Someone he loves? Rendition them and kidnap him bring them to a safe cell and beat them to death with my bare hands! Oh why does God treat me like this? Do I not give money to the Pope? “Are you all right sir?” Oh, Carpet, there you are my good servant. Yes, em, bring me a large brandy and a telephone; I have many calls to make.
Lord Rabbit says that the Dale Farm Gipsy camp is a disgrace to English civilisation. Why? Because these people upset reliable communities where ever they go. A decent pub can turn into a battleground once the so called Traveller walks in. The traveller or gipsy is a long established cohort whose origins are India, (India Dock Road if you ask myself) and who has an almost religious belief that they can settle anywhere. They once tried to settle on my 50,000 acres of land. I sent in my land keepers with shotguns, normally used for rabbits and pheasants, but on this worrying occasion were used to shoot and kill the lot of them. We buried the independent vermin on my land without a sign that they had ever existed. And that is the fate of any lower order that has the notion that he or she is our equal. Equality is a bye word for all liberal minded perverts. We have to rid the world of the infirm, the dwarves, the blind and deaf. Have you tried to talk to a deaf lower order? It is so bothersome. And ask directions from a blind lower and a dead end. England will be better off without these misfits. The lower class have some use. They fight the wars for the upper orders. Whereas, these gypsy types are the sort who take no orders. They live as nomads; as an animal, sniffing for food where ever its nose leads it. Such is the condition of “Travellers”: these fairground freaks whose only input to decent life is just that - psychopathic freaks. That is why the Dale Farm should go. They are blight on our good countryside. An orderly farm produces sheep, cows and vegetables for us all to sustain our good bodies. What do ‘Traveller’ or ‘Gypsies’ produce? Nothing, except violence and selfish tribal customs that have no place in our orderly world. What! How dare they buck the system that I and my good law making friends have made? So, down with Dale Farm and up with a cull. Jordan! (She is my new friend. She is spirited gal who is with the notion that she will become one of us. I have invested some monies to her new magazine, of which I will earn a tidy profit is she is successful. She is the ideal success to lower order gals. I tell her so, every time she bends over my enormous endowment.) Ah, there you are Jordan. Brandy if you will.
I and my very rich friends inside and outside of Government have decided to allow the Libyan lower orders some of their money. My once dear friend Col. Gadafii deposited 20 billion in Rabbit Bank International alone. He has billions more in the banks run by my family and friends. The reason for our decision is not altogether altruist. We must keep up the pretence that we are delighted that the dear Col. has been overthrown. When he is ’killed’ we will not show his body, it will be swiftly ‘buried’ it in the desert in an unknown location lest it become a Mecca for terrorists. The money allowed will go to Libyan reconstruction. Rabbit Construction will, of course, get the prize pick of all contracts. The first thing will be to restore infrastructure, then build luxury hotels where I and my friends can oversee the building of new palaces which will be the modest abodes of our hand picked new Libyan government. Concessions will have to be made to the Libyan masses. Most will be employed as cheap labour for my factories. One of which will process artificial potato peelings. Unions will be banned ‘temporarily’ until the new government has time to set up democratic elections made up of parties so alike you could not pass a potato peeling between them. Bribes in the form of new Mosques will be offered to Islamic religious leaders for their cooperation in re-interpreting the Koran so that Islamic law is more suited to the taste of the Western Capitalist Community. The vast oil fields will be administered, behind closed doors, by UK and US oil companies, with Libyan names like Libyan Liberation Oil as a front. My own Rabbit Oil will be set off shore, but with pipes angled to siphon off oil un-metred and un-traffied. To keep the population under control we will vaccinate the whole population with a drug of which property is a slow realising chemical that slows up thought processes. Together with this we will create a thousand new TV channels that will broadcast never-ending Soap and Sports that will keep the Libyan minds so occupied that they will not have the time to wonder what I and my rich friends are doing. This method has been used successfully in the West for generations; it is called - The Amusement Effect. I can safely say that we, the ruling class will have the pick of the best looking Libyan women and men. We do not have to go look for them, but unlike yesteryear, we cannot have nation wide Beauty contests, that would upset our feminist friends, and Libya must appear to be a modern country, no, now the flittering process is called - The Next Top Model. So, sleep well in your cold homes this winter. The majority of you will survive and continue to pay top price for gas and electric, while some will die. A wonderful method of keeping the population down -What! Broom! A large brandy and cigar methinks.
Col Muammar Gaddafi. He is no longer my friend. I was a dear friend to him for forty years. We have enjoyed so much wealth together. I have told him so many times that he ought to look after the lower orders. Give them something. All my employees I pay one penny over minimum wage. Whoever of my many government associates made law a minimum wage will forever be deplored, yet, a mini money has to be given. Potato peelings are enough. Treat the lower orders as if they had rights, then before long they would demand a share in land and wealth. That would never do. However, I am in rejoice. The Libyan lower orders are in seeming victory. I have already sent my wealthy ambassador to talk to the rebel leadership. He will promise that they will, with the support of me and others of my ilk, govern. With those who we choose, we will then move in and take over the oilfields and control the country. Yes, and how boring, we will set up ’Democratic elections’. The contracts for the rebuilding of the infrastructure of the country will be awarded to my companies and, and, once again, we the filthy rich will reap the rewards. Of course, we will have rallies and pick the Libyan hero’s so the people can hero worship and believe all we tell them. And life will go on as normal for me. Oh, do not worry; I will not be caught by a Hacking scandal, or as a tyrant. No. You see, I remain within the bounds of the law. My greed is self-controlled.
Why me? I employ 52, 000,000,000 lower class surfs globally. I can’t keep up with them all. This is the most humiliating day of my life. Bought here to the commission to answer for what moral crimes? The three Jap girls upstairs will testify in my defence. Here is they are Chantal, Champagne and Cnut. Chantal: “I love Lord Rabbet. He helped me get out of sex trafficking and got me a job as a boiler room stoker. I love stoking. Champagne: Lord Rabbit paid my family two bucks to bring me out of my hole. Now I stop him from slamming the table and help him with shaving cream. Cnut: Why if it was not for Lord Rabbit, who knows how low I would have sunk. He brought me off my knees. And there you have it. Testimony from some of the finest drop level arsehole suckers on the Planet. I have closed down my newspaper News of the Globe as a shining example of a man in torment. I will open another newspaper which will bring solace to all I have shamed. It will be an ethical print that brings joy to all readers who agree to have CCTV in their bedrooms. Vengeance I look not to. My arch enemy Nazi Sex who planned my downfall is now great friend. I have sent him a semtex letter inviting him to join me on a world tour of laughing at tears. As for my son, the bumbling idiot, I leave only one message - thanks a lot.
The parliamentary investigation was such a humbling experience for me. As you witnessed I was struck dumb at times by the insulting questions. Questions that would be more suited to a Stalinist show trial. I employ only honest investigative journalists, none of whom has ever been involved in hacking. Except two who were rogue reporters and hacked innocent people without the consent of their editors, who like me and my brave son would never have granted permission. We inadvertently paid for the rogue reporters legal fees. Not to hush them up as some left wing Marxist extremists have suggested but merely as a gesture of Christian charity. I believe in the teachings of Jesus and can only follow in his almighty footsteps by helping the poor. Witchila Redspite, one of my editors might have been misquoted when she said that she had paid the police for information. What she really said was, "I donated money to a police charity fund." The very idea that I or any of my staff would try to corrupt a British policeman is beyond the imagination of any of our readers. As for Andy Cashbank, it is clear that he is a man of integrity. Otherwise he would have never been employed by the British Prime Minster. And it is to his credit that he resigned from his government post. My former employees can always be reinstated. The Bongo Times in Nigeria is looking for phone operators now. As all of you could all see, I am nothing more than a bumbling old man who has dedicated his life to free and open societies all around the world. That I had to go into number 10 by the back door is testament to my frail condition. I could not climb the high steps at the front. The good old British public are fully behind me. Otherwise they would not continue to buy my other newspaper The Sol in their millions. This is the mother of all witch hunts by Commies to tarnish my good name. I hope that you will forgive some few of my staff who have displayed their commitment to the enhancement of values that all of my readers secretly seek.
Listening is an important quality. I listen to people. Carefully to every salacious word. We live in an open society. The more open it is the better. I, myself, am always open, my dear I keep my editorial office door agape and allow my staff to crawl in whenever they are ordered. I have an open cigar box that Prince Phliby have often dug our fingers into over a bottle of open Fracs de Pocket. Why my dear wife, Lady Duchess Baroness Queen Rabbit is at Rabbit castle now lowering the drawbridge to the peasants so that they can openly trade within the walls at which cost to myself for allowing them I might add. Ha! HA. Broom! He is my new servant, after I got rid of Chillings, he is in the dungeon along with Sweater. Humm. Now where was I? Oh yes - openness. The very foundation of an open society is as my good friend Karl Popper said, "Hack and be Hacked" Ha, he did not say that of course, I could not possibly put that cock-up into his mouth. No indeed, he might sue me for Libel. could he? No, he is dead. Can the dead sue? Broom! Where is that incompetent wastrel? Send up Scrollsoot, my lawyer, he might look into that. Careful old chap, don't what any newspaper printing something libellous against me. I'm eight four you know. Now where was I? Pills, where are my pills? BROOM. Send my nurse too - Curve Cuntwideski. Dammed Polish. Cheap mind you, but robbers; have to keep my eye on them. Brandy, a yes a good slurrup of brandy will sort out any ill. Ill will, have I made my will, yes, left all to my son Fairdeweather Swank Bank Rabbit. Where was I?
|
|
Basildoneye © 2001 All Rights Reserved |
I
most utterly agree with my friend Chief Secretary to the Treasury Denial
Alexander that the public sector strike next week will cost my country five
hundred million pounds and also cause me to sack many union members. 
