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...a blog by Richard Flowers

Friday, February 16, 2007

Day 2236: Valentine's Day Massacre

Wednesday:


a.m.[*1]

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p.m.[*2]

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[*1] apr├Ęs manger

[*2] yum yum yum, in some translations


Romance was also in the air for Mr Millipede today, when he received this LOVE LETTER from Mr Frank Failed, the former Minister for the Unthinkable in Pursuit of the Inedible.

"Oh Millipede, how I love you…" writes Mr Failed "… Mr Frown is besmirched by a decade in power, toiling in the workshops of that vile Lord Blairimort, he cannot have kept his hands clean, and verily, t'was the fiend Frown what did nobble me when I said let us sell off the NHS.

"Oh, Millipede, thou are not so base and undeserving as that dreadful Frown, who has done nothing all these years except sulk and run the most successful British economy in a hundred years. You have done nothing and less, but at least you did so without sulking. Or treading on my dainty toes. Come buy a pension insurance scheme with me!

"Frown may be a man of great achievement, high office and worthy CV, but does not the great book of history tell us yea 'tis the crappy little underdog what steals the great man's bone and pisseth it away. Verily, oh Millipede, art thou not that pissant underdog? Oh love of mine, thou art!

"Debt, sweet Millipede, debt in abundance and yea more debt upon debt and indeed our fortune lying in the hands of the governor of the Bank of England, what reckless gambler he, and what fool did knowingly thrust the levers of macro-economic manipulation from him: Frown, I name thee with my Scorn! Oh Millipede who has not yet had the time to Balls up in any way mighty or otherwise – saving only your pitiful performances on Questionable Time and that pathetic 'tache – Millipede, come to us and make new our mistakes all over again.

"Look ye at the NHS, what I did think we could get a fiver for down Camden Market, and yet into which Frown, loath'd Frown, has poured all that the nation could raise and then some. Oh, would but there were some challenger – that meaneth you, Millipede, so stoppeth looking shifty – someone that would slay this Dragon, bell this cat, rid me of this turbulent pest…

"Millipede Millipdede, thou art the man, and I am thine all thine.

"And no, Lord Blairimort didn't put me up to it!"

Awww, isn't that sweet?

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