Oh please let me in I want to be a politician, it's all so exciting - I'm a man with a mission! You'll love my mock-sincerity I've practiced it for years, my sombre-faced delivery will have you all in tears, you'll love my lies and promises I've honed them to perfection, now all I need to do is win the General Election!
You voters will be much too thick to spot that I'm a total prick, a cad a knave a two-faced twat in masquerade with Jester's hat, a man of desperate ambition incapable of all contrition, wrought of spin and doubletalk, a man with tongue shaped like a fork. How sad for you to have no choice, you'll have to listen to my voice while I persuade you black is white and bad is good and other shite, pontificating on my stage immune from your quite righteous rage to see your country so mismanaged, plundered destitute and damaged!
The problem is my Guiding Light, my Messianic Inner Sprite, which speaks to me in many tongues and tactfully ignores the bungs from Chief Execs of Corporations anxious to secure quotations; business is the way to go and nobody need ever know how much I'm putting by for MEE to go on some unholy spree when in the end I get found out and nobody's in any doubt I never should have held the reins, I never ever had the brains to run a bath much less a nation - was I just an aberration?
I think I'll blame my Inner Voice which never gave me any choice. I had to take the path I chose to save you from a lethal dose of dreadful boring Tory stuff which might have left you up the duff instead of cheering all the way for Mighty Tone who saved the day! You chewed on my slick manifesto, seasoned well with Tesco's pesto, feeding on my empty words (I might as well have fed you turds), you thought I was the new Messiah come to take you that much higher? NEVER trust a politician - specially one who's on a mission!
Saddam was just a stepping stone to take me closer to my throne, the one the Gods reserved for MEE in all my dubious finery, the one CherEE did order for me just to show she did adore me, the very thing to show the world a man who's banner was unfurled to keep the people in their place with impish grin fixed on his face, arms raised aloft to celebrate the wiping of the nation's slate.
A job well done, a moral crown, a scribe to write the whole thing down in memory of Mighty Tone, his gauntlet thrown, his trumpet blown, a thing of MDF and paint, inscribed with letters oh so quaint - "King Tony - Ruler of the Planet" (with all the instincts of a gannet).
(Steady with that jewelled chalice - Tony's ready for his Palace!)
I came I saw I conquered all with my half-witted wrecking ball, I governed with far-sighted vision, ducked the arrows of derision, held you all quite mesmerised while I dispensed the same old lies, planned it all before I left and made the voters feel bereft: "What will we do without our Tone?" Don't worry chaps I've left a bone for you to chew on when I'm gone - the credit crunch is my swansong.
Now I can charge a hefty fee to give a little bit of MEE to social climbers everywhere who'll never know I didn't care except for MEE and my CherEE, (freeloading was her destinEE). We'll have it all when I retire, a different house in every Shire, a mansion in the USA hand-built by fans of "Tony's Way", a yacht to cruise the Caribbean, soaking up the people's paean:
"Oh Wondrous Tone, give us a sign, we'll wait for years and stand in line for one last chance to hear your voice, all those of us who had no choice, your willing sacrificial lambs will see you in the promised land, where paper money grows on trees and no sign of a credit squeeze, where empty promises are kept and never mind the National Debt, where every ill will have its cure and we will breathe in air so pure our hearts will stop in admiration for KingTone who saved our nation!"