In a seemingly last ditch effort to remain head of the British Labour Party and victorious in the up coming election, the Prime Minister's advisory team, located in the basement of Number 10, have decided they must endeavor to erase the Blair image as 'George Bush's poodle' and present a figure of virtual virility and staunch indifference toward the United States in general, and to George Bush in particular, by having Blair father a love child by Laura Bush.
An unnamed royal official told Reuters news agency, that the Queen was overheard to inquire of the Prime Minister at their Tuesday meeting, "Is Mrs. Bush aware of this plan." Blair assured the Queen that Mrs. Bush would not be a problem, as she was presently embroiled in a debate about oil drilling in the Alaska wilderness, a measure that would supply fuel for S.U.V. use in America. About the wilderness area, Mrs. Bush was quoted as saying, "Who gives a forklift? Nobody lives up there anyway."
Aghast, the Queen pressed further. "Can't you just have another child of your own?" The Prime Minister topped off, been there, done that, four years ago with Leo, but his team felt they had to add a little pepper to the pie, silk to the pajamas, gin to the tonic, sex to the head of state, avoiding a predicted Labour Party loss to a Conservative Party victory.
"Don't you fear that this may provoke President Bush to decide to search for weapons of mass destruction in the United Kingdom?"
"As I see it, your Majesty," Blair preemed, pushing his suspenders out with his thumbs, "I am the United Kingdom's weapon of mass destruction, but Bush owes me and the vice president okayed it." Blair stomped his feet twice, threw a hand overhead and yelled, "OLE."
The Queen reflected that at least this might just remove the spotlight from her Nazi dressing grandson.
When told of the situation, Laura Bush was overheard to reply, "Why, it would be nice to have a kid with an English accent around here in Crawford, Texas."
And in the United Kingdom, from the windswept fields of the Cotswolds, to the breezy moors of Scotland, the hills and glens were alive with the echoing sounds of, "OLE."