Friday, March 07, 2003

In a surprising turn of events this weekend Tony Blair made an impassioned speech against his back bench rebels in Parliament before storming off with his nose in the air.

"You lot make me sick!" he yelled at the top of his voice, swinging the mace around his head and lashing out towards beautiful, bouncy Diane Abbott. "Bloody pacifists! Always whinging about the war and how we mustn't harm all those innocent Iraqis! I put it to you simply that you're all just yellow-bellied cowards!"

At this point John Prescott was heard to grumble in agreement. Or at least his own portly yellow-belly grumbled in agreement. Then again it might have been flatulence.

"Well sod you then!" screamed Tony reaching fever pitch by now. "If nobody else wants to support me in my campaign to kill Saddam, I'll do it myself!"

With which heroic speech he launched himself out of his chair and straight through the main Common's window.

Mr Blair's private jet was last seen heading towards Baghdad in a stole of tears, a forty-mega-tonne nuclear warhead strapped to the nose cone and a determined Tony Blair at the joystick. Before he vanished over the white cliffs of Dover Tony left one final message in sky writing. It read simply, "I love you George! Give my regards to Broadway."

The Ballad of Fleetwood

Oh Fleetwood this London's a wonderful sight, it's chocka with traffic all day and all night.
There's women here basking in Yves St Lauren, And vast office complexes blocking the sun.
There's Arabic writing down dark subway walls, And beggars and junkies and women with balls,
So I'm going back home where the parking is free, To the place where the sewerage sweeps down to the sea.