Day Seventeen of de Cousin of all Barnies: Received food parcel from Auntie Edna. Hobnobs all crushed. Damn dis war!
Morale amongst Republican Guard low after one thousand killed in incident over missing toilet rolls. Sent Dopple-Saddam onto streets to raise spirits and shoot some civilians. Dopple-Saddam proved very popular. Too popular in fact. Had him shot.
Power to Presidential Bunker lost earlier. Used wax from Minister for Disinformation's ears as makeshift candles.
Allah remind us where we buried the chemical weapons!
Day Eighteen of de Grandfather of all Wet Willies: Sneaky little Yankee rascals stuck their heads into Baghdad den disappeared again. Not sure where they've gone. Possibly hiding behind de novelty souvenir shop on General de Gaul Street.
Minister for Disinformation looking worried. Apparently we only have fifteen television masts left and our supply of pilchards is running out.
Favourite cousin, Chemical Ali, killed in mortar attack. Mum always said he'd come unstuck after he killed 100,000 Kurds. Serves him right. The bastard still owes me a fiver.
Allah taunt our enemies by flicking 'V's.
Day Nineteen of de Mother-in-law of all Pile Ons: Presidential Palace stormed by US troops! Cheeky foreign reporters kept going on about gold-plated toilets and mercury bidets. Claimed they were signs of brutal dictator. Apparently I live in luxury whilst people around me live in poverty. Hey! I got de idea from Queen of England for Allah's big bell end's sake! And Donald Rumpfeeler when he took me on tour of American trailer parks.
Some Yankee devil troops reprimanded for hoisting Star Spangled Banner in Baghdad and upsetting de locals. Cheeky buggers! Should be hoisting de white flag. Preferably covered with blood!
De war effort isn't looking promising. Basra fallen to British troops. Noticed on de telly their tanks were flying de Welsh flag. That didn't upset anybody. Nobody knew what it was.
Am thinking of shaving off tash and putting on burkha. Toiletries running low. Might pop down shops...in Marseilles. Presidential dunnies starting to backlog.
Allah be buggered. I'm out of here!
As the demise of Baghdad continues, President George Wanker Bush is flying into Northern Ireland to meet with Tony Blair. (Who said pigs would never fly?) The spineless little shit. Why won't the stuck-up arrogant little chimp actually come to Britain?
Oh yeah...sure...he's guaranteed an uproarious welcome in Ireland...especially seeing as they've well and truly cordoned off the anti-war protesters. After all, Clinton received one so why shouldn't he? But us Brits...well, we're not so keen on the stuff-shirted little turd despite our hallowed leader Uncle Tony's besotted demeanour.
There is, of course, an irony in this, Dubya and Blair now having created their own Northern Ireland guerilla war in the Middle East, just as the real Northern Ireland is starting to sort itself out.
However, possibly, for once, Bush is making the right decision...at least as far as the Brits disassociation from this war mongering twat is concerned.
According to a survey I read somewhere, the good people of Texas are also trying to distance themselves from the manic midget. Despite being born in Texas, Dubya's parents came from elsewhere...on which basis he isn't truly a Texan.
Sorry chaps...it won't wash with us any more than the fact that John Prescott came from his mother's sphincter (according to the midwife, his mother's front bottom rejected him outright). Loathe as I am to admit it Prescott's a Brit and Bush is a cunt.