Democracy in Pakistan 1947 - 1953 - 1958 - 1971 - 1977 - 1985 - 1988 - 1999 - 2002 - 2007

Democracy in Pakistan has died yet another death following the introduction by squeaky-clean President/General (or General/President depending on which week it is) Musharraf of martial law on the basis that the country was "in the grip of militant violence and an unruly judiciary", which same unruly judiciary just happened to be about to rule on the legality of the good General's October election victory.

Democracy in Pakistan was born in 1947, the fragile child of the British Empire's favourite method of bringing peace and harmony to their former colonies, partition, as the newly-formed states of India and Pakistan happily went their separate ways with barely a care in the world, merrily agreeing that they should share Kashmir ... preferably as a potential nuclear battleground for decades to come.

Following religious riots, martial law was imposed in Pakistan for the first time in 1953 and proved so popular that it was quickly introduced as a major module at law schools across the country. Following a breather of a couple of years while the army recharged its batteries (particularly the ones they liked to attach to opposition politicians' testicles), Democracy in Pakistan was back in the dock again in 1958. By an astonishing coincidence, it was during this time that Pakistan's relations with the West were cemented as it entered into an anti-Soviet pact with those paragons of democracy: Iran, Iraq and Turkey.

In 1977, part-time Terry-Thomas impersonator and full-time General, Muhammad Zia-al-Haq, took up the reins of power in a "bloodless" coup (so-called because Prime Minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, was hanged rather than shot for the audacious crime of having won a parliamentary election). But when, in 1988, that "magnificent" man in his flying machine tumbled out of the sky in circumstances more mysterious than Glenn Miller's disappearance over the English Channel or the popularity of Big Brother, Zia's dictatorship was over and Pakistan entered a golden 11-year period of civilian rule with Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif both leading the country twice and both removed from office on charges of corruption.

It was in 1999 that General Pervez Musharraf decided he was the people's champion - whether they wanted him to champion them or not - and stepped forward to take over the country ... completely coincidentally just as President Sharif was about to fire him from his job. For the next eight years his shiny military boots graced the Chief Executive's desk. Fortunately the General was keen to prove his democratic credentials and held an election in 2002. Not only did this election show all the probity of Western elections (provided the Western elections one is talking about happen to be the Presidential ones in Florida in 2000⁽¹⁾), it also served to keep the Pakistani Supreme Court from getting too het up about trivial details like the rule of law and the constitution. With his credentials thus proven to all and sundry, particularly in the White House and Downing Street, General President Capo di Tutti Capi Musharraf was swiftly ushered into the noble company fighting for democracy, alongside Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and other such fine nations.

Despite his penchant for riding roughshod over the rule of law (normally in a tank) and extending Mr Sharif's exile, General Musharraf remained eager to prove himself at least on nodding terms with the notions of democratic behaviour, and promised to step down as head of the army on the 15th of November 2005 and hold a general election⁽²⁾ in January 2008. Democrats around the world took comfort in the fact both that the General had apparently shown himself to be on their side, or if not that at least that the fingers normally poised near the nuclear button would be crossed behind the General's back for a few months. Sadly, such comfort was but brief: for on 3 November 2007 the constitution and hundreds of opposition politicians, members of the Supreme Court and anyone who looked at the General "a bit funny" were arrested. Troops took up positions on the streets and television and radio stations were taken off the air including, to the relief of TV lovers, BBC World. So with Imran Khan and his collection of nuclear cricket bats under house arrest, General President Musharraf was safe once more from the condemnation of democratic governments the world over, and the "deep disappointment" of the Bush administration.

Democracy in Pakistan will be buried at the 24/7 Drive-Thru Chapel of Democratic Rest. The service will be conducted by the Right Reverend President General Musharraf and the congregation will sing whatever song he tells them to.

⁽¹⁾ in fact it is widely rumoured that more poor African-Americans got to vote in the Pakistani election than did in Florida.
⁽²⁾ ie an election which would end up electing a general ... called Musharraf.

The US Troop Surge's Tour of Iraq 2007-2008

The streets of Baghdad were today filled with emptiness as the people of that shining jewel 'mid the Mesopotamian sands chose to commemorate the ending of the US Troop Surge's Tour of Iraq by not going out in case they got blown up by a celebrating insurgent or decorated with bits of their own anatomy by happy and contented members of a rival tribal group.

It was on January 10th 2007 that President Bush announced The Surge's birth to a joyful nation. The President's child was a bonny and bouncing baby, whose mere presence - the President assured America - was enough to bring a powerful desire for peace and democracy (not to mention a deep wish to run away from the 30,000 heavily armed new troops) to any "evildoer".

Though still very young, Mr Bush's baby was sent away in February 2007 to gain an education in the ways of nascent democracy - taking in extra tuition on the ways of Explosively Formed Penetrator warheads - on a grand tour of Northern Iraq. Led by its new tour guide, General David Petraeus⁽¹⁾, The Surge was shown the many sights of the ancient streets of Baghdad, from the delights of its famous illuminations⁽²⁾ to the charms of its many insurgents, always eager to greet a foreign soldier with a smile on their face and a bomb near their heart.

Despite the many highlights of its tour, the root of The Surge's ultimate disappointment was to be found in the fact the chief object of its journey - a successful democratic government in Iraq - was closed for the summer and not expected to open for at least several decades. Unable to see the shining beacon of democracy promised to it by Mr Bush, The Surge instead had to content itself with amassing a large supply of souvenir mortar rounds, bullets and Improvised Explosive Devices readily provided by local militia groups. Bored, tired and missing home, The Surge began to complain about the length of its tour and wonder aloud about the whole purpose of its trip.

Unable to show his tour group any sign of functioning government, General Petraeus was forced to put a brave face on things, gamely telling anyone who asked him that he was sure that democracy would soon be up and running in Iraq, whilst at the same time announcing that The Surge's tour of Iraq would soon be brought to an end.

The US Troop Surge in Iraq will be quietly buried in mid-2008 at St Rumsfeld's Church of the Holy Jesus What Kind of A Mess Has This Doofus Left Behind?! It was predeceased by the British Military Presence in Basra and is survived by an Iraqi Government unable to find its arse with both hands.

⁽¹⁾ a man easily distinguishable from previous tour guides provided to the US Army in Iraq by the fact that he doesn't believe Al Fallujah is that guy down the block who runs the falafel stand.
⁽²⁾ usually, given the unreliability of the electricity supply, a couple of candles and the odd bomb explosion.

Gordon Brown's Honeymoon Period 2007-2007

Gordon Brown’s Honeymoon Period – that glorious summer of sunny smiles and political harmony marked by a nation’s delirious acceptance of their new unelected Prime Minister⁽¹⁾ – has passed away.

It was in the balmy days of June 2007 that Gordon Brown and the British people were united in political matrimony, Gordon having offered a shoulder for the nation to cry on as it tried to recover from the discovery that former husband Tony Blair had been having a long and passionate affair with George W Bush ... as well as having offered the use of a double-barrelled shotgun with which to do away with its errant spouse (thus fulfilling Mr Blair's confident prediction to his friends that Gordon would only ever get together with the British people over his dead body).

So it was that on the joyous day of the nuptials, men, women and children across the country gathered together to celebrate the union between themselves and Gordon Brown in an outpouring of emotion on a level not seen since a secret cabal of florists⁽²⁾ took out a contract on Diana, Princess of Wales to boost its profit margins.

At first all seemed well with the relationship. Mr Brown proved a dutiful - if unexciting - spouse, never happier than when plodding off to work to deal with inundation, foot and mouth, terrorist attacks or any other of the signs of impending apocalypse which had decided to pop by to wish him and the nation all the best in their new marriage. Yet beneath the surface all was not as it seemed. As the months went by the nation began to tire of Mr Brown's ceaseless dedication to his work, not to mention his constant calls for bans on gambling, reductions in drinking hours, the reclassification of cannabis and his secret meetings with spiritualists in order to channel the thoughts of The Daily Mail's Melanie Phillips. Soon the nation found itself looking elsewhere for a bit of fun and it began to think again of beginning an affair of its own with that well-scrubbed if rather vacant David Cameron chap who had popped round the other week to offer to install some solar panels on the roof.

Sensing a growing distance between himself and his spouse the Prime Minister decided to endear himself to the populace once more. Sadly he chose to do so by paying tribute to former prime minister Margaret Thatcher and slipping £120 to new mums to "buy something nice for the kiddies". It was not enough to close up the rift that had developed between Mr Brown and the nation that had once been willing to lie down and think of "Britishness" for him.

So as the nation sullenly ignored him over the toast at the breakfast table, Gordon Brown’s Honeymoon Period was over… I MEAN OVER! and a door slammed on the greatest political love-story since Alastair Campbell last caught sight of Tony in his Y-fronts.

Gordon Brown’s Honeymoon Period will be buried at the Trades Union Congress. The service will be conducted by the broadsheets, the tabloids and Newsnight (in an item dominated by quirky graphics, unsuitable music and a few images of Alan Yentob nodding intercut at random). It is survived by Gordon Brown’s Awkward Silences, Gordon Brown’s Moodiness and Gordon Brown’s Decision To Return Home To Live With His Mother For A Wee While.

⁽¹⁾ due mostly to their relief at being delivered – how ever undemocratically – from the yoke of Tony Blair.
⁽²⁾ led, we are advised by our Egyptian correspondent, by the Duke of Edinburgh.

British Military Presence in Basra 2003-2007

The British Military Presence in Basra, part of that joint mission with the United States to extract oil from bring peace and democracy to the benighted country of Iraq, has been zipped up in a body bag as troops withdrew relocated to the airport – marking the end of a foreign adventure with all the mishap-free success of M. Hulot's Holiday.

The British Military Presence in Basra was first established in 1917 as our brave Tommies secured the Anglo-Persian Oil Company’s interests in neighbouring Persia freed the region from the evil clutches of the Ottoman Empire, and formed the modern state of Iraq from three rival ethnic groups – the Kurds, the Shi’as and the Sunnis – who have, ever since, co-existed peacefully with their new neighbours.

Granting independence to Iraq in 1932 the British retained a military presence in the region because large deposits of oil had been discovered there, re-invading the country in 1941 to stop Germany from stealing the oil and just “minding it for the Iraqis” for a short while as part of the struggle against the evils of Hitler. Despite British heroism in defence of the oil 17 years later an ungrateful Iraqi Army overthrew the Anglophile puppet government monarchy and set about using their new-found freedom and economic independence to terrorise their population all by themselves.

And so, for a while, Britain withdrew altogether from Iraq. In 1991, however, the latest of Baghdad's loyal friends of the West despots, Saddam Hussein, had set his sights on Kuwait’s oil fields and American and British troops again invaded to restore peace and democracy. While the Americans stopped short of Baghdad, our brave boys conquered Basra and soon felt at home there amidst its ancient streets and traditional Officer’s Club and NAAFI (est. 1917). Withdrawing from the city after a regimental sherry and bridge evening got out of hand, British troops were powerless to intervene as the Republican Guard slaughtered Shi’as in their thousands.

Following the discovery of weapons of mass destruction a dodgy thesis written by a Canadian student a fictional link between the Saddam regime and Al Qaeda, the Allies were welcomed back into Iraq as heroic liberators in 2003, as Tony Blair decided to make his mark in history and to be judged by God back Donald Rumsfeld's George W. Bush’s daring plan to overthrow Saddam Hussein and free Iraq’s giant oil reserves.

Although it was our American allies who were to bear the brunt of Iraqi ingratitude for bombing their country back to the Stone Age liberating their oil them from the nightmare of Saddam Hussein’s Ba’ath Party, even in Basra mutterings of discontent were heard. Soon these mutterings grew into a more audible collective tut and British troops found they were no longer welcome in the city’s clubs and late-night kebab houses, unless accompanied by a large amount of bombing and rifle-fire from local insurgents.

So it was this week that the “pre-planned” decision to withdraw all British troops to the city’s airport was taken amidst much criticism from the Americans whose decision to “surge” more troops into Baghdad earlier in the year had so successfully pushed the insurgents into the rest of the country and enabled the Iraqi government to take a well deserved holiday.

Denying accusations that they were abandoning Basra to the Iraqi Army – an organisation with all the effectiveness of Warmington-on-Sea's Home Guard (but with better weapons) and all the loyalty to its leadership of a member of the Tory party, the Queen’s Own Light Baggage Handlers Brigade and 2 Para Confiscation of Water Bottles and Nail Files Battalion quickly established control of Basra airport and began merrily wishing happy tourists and business travellers “a good one-way flight out of Basra”.

And so it was that with the US accusing the UK of abandoning Basra and the UK accusing the US’s policy in Iraq of being “fatally flawed”, the last post was sounded and the owners of Basra’s clubs and late-night kebab houses breathed a sigh of relief.

The British Military Presence in Basra will be buried very quietly. The service will be conducted by the CEO of British Petroleum. It is not expected that our American allies will attend. It is survived by The British Military Presence in Afghanistan and The British Military Presence in Aldershot – both of which have been causing much hardship and unhappiness to locals since the 19th century.

Alberto "Mr Memory" Gonzales 1955-2007

Today the vaudeville stage is missing one of its greatest stars. Yes, America, bow your collective head in tribute to Alberto "Mr Memory" Gonzales - the simple Attorney General of the United States from Texas who entertained a mighty nation with his astounding feats of non-existent memory.

Born (possibly, it was always so hard for Mr Gonzales to recollect) in or about San Antonio, Texas, and raised - serendipitously one might say - in the town of Humble, Alberto Gonzales's youth would be familiar to many of the great stars of vaudeville: he was brought up in poverty, one of seven children, and his forebears had come to the land of the free as immigrants. Indeed, it seems that Mr Gonzales inherited his great skills of memory from those forebears, grandma and grandpa having somehow forgotten ever to fill in the necessary forms to make their stay in the United States legal.

Where other vaudevillians found themselves on the stage from childhood, however, young Alberto preferred a more conventional path, heading first to the United States Air Force and then into a career in the law. Indeed, this comic genius might have been lost to the dry and dusty legal world had it not been for a chance encounter with the young George W. Bush who, like Alberto, had been called to the bar in his youth (though, unlike Alberto, he had been called there to pony up for several more beers and bourbon chasers). The future president asked Alberto his name and when he responded with the words "Andrew ... no, Alfonso ... no ... it's ... it's ... what would you like it to be?" Mr Bush knew he had his man.

Over the following years, Alberto was always to be found at Mr Bush's side ... whether as general counsel during Mr Bush's governorship of Texas or as chief White House counsel following Mr Bush's accession to the Presidency itself. Yet the young lawyer always found time to hone his comic routines and practise his feats of no memory: soon he was impressing and entertaining all at the Governor's mansion forgetting to mention Mr Bush's drink-driving conviction whilst getting him excused from jury duty. After this impressive feat he would go on to astound his audience by forgetting the unforgettable: his duty to examine in detail the pleas for clemency of the 150 men and women executed during Mr Bush's gubernatorial tenure.

The Texas stage was clearly not enough for so great a talent and soon "The Great Fredo" as Mr Bush knew him, was joining the newly-elected⁽¹⁾ President in Washington where - as White House counsel and later Attorney General - he would stand in the centre of the political stage and forget everything from the provisions of the Geneva Convention to the meaning of habeas corpus, on each occasion rushing up to Mr Bush afterwards and triumphantly demanding, "Am I right, Sir?"

There was nothing that Alberto could not forget: he forgot the provisions of the Constitution, he forgot the separation of powers, he forgot that wiretapping was illegal, as Attorney General he forgot that his first duty was to the People and the Constitution and not to the President. Yet all this was as nothing compared to his final, greatest performance. In a bravura series of appearances before the Senate in relation to his dismissal of eight US Attorneys he achieved feats of memory unseen since Ronald "The Great Ronaldo" Reagan was questioned about the Iran-Contra affair. Alberto forgot who had authorised the dismissals, he forgot he had said it was his idea, he forgot the documents said it was the White House's idea, he forgot that attorneys had been fired for not being "Loyal Bushies", he forgot whether he had had any role in the dismissals at all, and he forgot forgetting whether he had had any role in the dismissals. On 74 occasions Alberto was asked questions by the Senate and on 74 occasions he was able to say he could not remember or did not know the answer in the first place. There had been no equivalent performance by a vaudevillian since the Marx Brothers quit the stage.

The strain of such an act tolled on Alberto, as it was bound to. His memory was now almost completely gone and he was forced to quit the stage forever, leaving us with his last words: "I want to spend more time with ... you know ... those folks I share a surname with ... my ... my ... er family, yes, that's it ... ... Where am I?"

Alberto "Mr Memory" Gonzales will be buried at ... er ... er ... I know I wrote it down somewhere ... look is it okay if I get back to you on this? He will long be remembered ... or maybe not.

⁽¹⁾ ironic quotation marks omitted for reasons of space.

America's Withdrawal from the Bush Administration 2006 - 2007

As A Dodo must today report the grave news that the Withdrawal by America from the Bush Administration is almost at an end and that the last helicopters have been seen pulling away from the White House in scenes not witnessed since the end of the Vietnam War.

It was in the middle of the first decade of the 21st century that it became apparent to many Americans that the country's strategy in relation to the Bush Administration had gone awry. Though vast amounts of money and large numbers of young troops had been expended on keeping the Bush Administration in power and supporting its aims, the Administration itself - poorly led and indifferent to allegations of internal corruption and a casual disregard for either the rule of law, the provisions of the Constitution or the terms of the Geneva convention - seemed incapable of achieving America's desires and ill-suited to its stated aim of defending democracy.

There had been many previous calls for withdrawal but these had always been ignored - largely because so many of them came from Sean Penn - but by 2006 the atmosphere had changed and the demands that America step back from the Bush Administration were being heard from many people who were not members of the popular music or motion picture industries.

It was with the defeat of Republican Troops under General Rove at the Battle of Capitol Hill in November 2006 and the taking of Congress by the troops of the DemoCong, that it became clear that America had now decided to step back from the Bush Administration. It was not long before Republican Congressmen and Congresswomen were to be seen packing up all their belongings in the nearest available pork barrel and preparing to flee. All the time, the Administration itself was suffering heavier and heavier losses: once important figures such as Donald Rumsfeld, Lewis "Scooter" Libby, Dan Bartlett, Harriet Miers and Sara Taylor all fell by the wayside, while others such as Attorney General Alberto Gonzales were left fatally wounded. Even senior Republican figures such as respected Virginia Senator John Warner now advocated withdrawal.

The rush to quit the Bush Administration became rapid, with politicians of all hues frantically battling with each other as they sought to make their way to the helicopters and put as much distance between themselves and the President's policies as they could. Finally there was only President George W Bush himself, left standing on the roof of the White House as friends, aides and officials, among them even such old allies as General Rove, leapt to the last helicopter and humiliatingly fled the scene. Mr Bush was heard desperately begging for America to come to his assistance and warning of "a new Vietnam" and the takeover of Washington by DemoCong troops under Ho Chi Clinton and Barack Vo Nguyen Obama, just before his voice was drowned out by the sound of the helicopter blades.

A nation will mourn the Bush Administration ... sadly no-one is yet sure which nation it will be.

⁽¹⁾ inasmuch as getting Iraqi insurgents to stop bombing Baghdad and start blowing up other bits of Iraq instead can be said to be a success.

Bush's Brain 1946-2007

Thousands of mourners have gathered in the Pennsylvania Avenue twilight before the White House to hold a candlelit vigil in memory of President George W Bush's Brain, which passed away following complications arising from its transplantation in 1994 into the head of Mr Bush's campaign manager, hip-hop MC and life-model for the Staypuft Marshmallow Man, Karl Rove.

When the two men first met, after the young Rove was sent by the ever-patrician George Bush Senior to carry some car keys to the young Dubya, few could have suspected the fateful operation that would one day be carried out. Yet George Junior's lobes had already had a powerful impact on Mr Rove, who was later to describe how he was bowled over by the cerebral matter's charisma and swagger, as well as Mr Bush's tight, tight flight jacket and calf-hugging cowboy boots.

Over the following years Bush and Rove were to work together to support Mr Bush's remarkable brain - Mr Rove trying to bring its message to the world by guiding George W. through the machinations of politics, Mr Bush keeping it fresh with a selection of stimulants and preserving it (along with his stomach, liver and most of his other organs) in large amounts of alcohol. By 1994, however, it was becoming plain that - perhaps due to a lack of oxygen supply caused by the tight boots, flight jacket and crotch-enhancing harness straps Mr Bush favoured for public-speaking engagements - Bush's Brain was failing. Desperate to avoid the loss of such a vital organ, the decision was taken to extract The Brain from its former host and place it inside Mr Rove.

The effect of the operation was immediate. Not only was Mr Rove now in possession of grey matter raised in centuries-long tradition of political service and connected to half the Presidents of the United States but George Bush himself was transformed from a Connecticut-born, Yale-educated, scion of one of America's most blue-blooded families, descended from passengers of The Mayflower itself into a good-ole-boy Texan so down-to-earth he wouldn't even be able to spell the word "privilege" without the aid of a dictionary. Following a few lessons in how to say "I want your vote" in Spanish Bush's Body was ready for political campaigning and, safe in its well-padded new home, Bush's Brain was in the perfect position to assist it.

Thus it was that George Bush made it to political office, aided by Bush's Body's willingness - like Peter Sellers's Chauncey Gardener in Being There - to shake voters' hands for hours on end and smile gormlessly into the middle-distance while delivering meaningless platitudes about hope, and Bush's Brain's willingness to mislead the public and traduce the opposition by asking questions such as "would you be more or less likely to vote for Governor Richards if you knew her staff is [sic] dominated by lesbians?"

By 1999 the Presidency itself was beckoning. With Bush's Brain happy to look on as racist innuendo was used to smear Republican opponents and Bush's Body happy to sit on Dick Cheney's knee and say "gottle of geer" while the Vice-Presidential candidate drank from a glass of sulphur, the assumption of the leadership of the free world was inevitable. With the Presidency in hand and Republican control of Congress in place, Bush's Brain had achieved its dreams.

Yet as anyone who has studied the history of brain transplants⁽¹⁾ will know, no brain transplant can ever be carried out without risking infection of the organ by the virus known to medics as "black-hearted evil" ... and such seems to have been the fate of Bush's Brain. While jovially wandering the corridors of power during the day, by night The Brain was seen savaging Democrats as woolly-minded milquetoasts waving terrorists into the heart of America, throwing CIA agents from the cliffs of secrecy and howling victory cries as it quietly buried the careers of "insufficiently-loyal" US Attorneys under cover of darkness.

Even The Brain's campaigning genius was fading. After one last flowering in 2004, when it managed to cast as a war hero a man whose military service during the Vietnam War saw him heroically protecting the bars and golf courses of Texas from attack by Vietcong disguised as bartenders and caddies, The Brain seemed ever more feeble. Following the foundering of attempts to reform pensions and immigration, doctors were called in to examine Bush's Brain, only to discover that the faithful organ had decided to skip town ahead of a posse of citizens angry about the war in Iraq and their lame duck President died with the passing of the dream of a permanent Republican majority in 2006.

Bush's Brain will be buried at the Unreformed Disunited Church of the Unholy Campaign Manager. Bush's Body will preside and the reading will be whatever Vice-President Cheney chooses.

⁽¹⁾ a subject dealt with at length in seminal medical texts Young Frankenstein, They Saved Hitler's Brain and The Simpsons.

The Special Relationship 1776-2007

The Special Relationship, that beautiful alliance between Britain and the United States that saw the British give America unswerving support in times of conflict in return for America giving Britain Dick Van Dyke's cormickiully acksarntid Cockernee chimernee sweep in Mary Poppins, has - we are advised by International Development Secretary, Douglas Alexander and Foreign Office Minister Lord Maloch-Brown - passed away.

The Special Relationship between Britain and America was born following the break-up of the Old Relationship between the two countries, after America grew tired of Britain always trying to cadge money off it and decided to throw Britain and all its things out ... including that bloody awful tea it insisted on drinking.

Due to the acrimonious nature of the split it was not, for many decades, apparent that something Special had been born. Indeed it wasn’t until World War Two that Winston Churchill - himself the fruit of the union between a Briton and an American - first realised that Britain was completely stuffed without the support of the most powerful country in the world made for America and the Special Relationship flowered anew, based on Britain being forced to flog off everything it owned to afford financially-crippling lend-lease arrangements the free, trusting and open sharing of ideas and resources that saw the two countries – united as one – defeat the Nazis⁽¹⁾.

Following such a successful beginning, it was little surprise that the love between the pair continued, ehen as America grew richer and stronger (and quite a lot fatter) and the United Kingdom became poorer and weaker (and also quite a lot fatter). America loved Britain's history and relics (particularly the royal family) and Britain worshipped America's enormous power and wealth appetite for happiness and adventure (and food).

Beneath the surface, however, all was not well and there were rumours of both countries dallying with others. Britain was frequently seduced by the continental allure and Gauloises-wreathed intellectual mysteriousness of France, but constantly rebuffed by a France deeply suspicious that Britain saw her only as the nearest ‘available’ country and was much more turned on by France's cheap booze, cheap fags and cheap summer homes than by her passionate interest in developing a Gauloises-wreathed critique of the later films of Jerry Lewis. Meanwhile, the United States began to cruise around the globe looking for a no-strings-attached good time but frequently ending up with a much bigger bang for its buck than it expected – as a series of 'one-night stands with no expectations and no hassle' led to it waking again and again in the middle of a massive hangover and a long-term abusive relationship.

Ironically, it was as America embarked on yet another such relationship - its heart having been smitten by oil the sensual beauty of Iraq - that there was a late-flowering in The Special Relationship as a love-struck Tony Blair, eager to secure himself a place in history and a lucrative post-premiership lecture tour in the States stand shoulder-to-shoulder with George Bush, persuaded Britain to snuggle up to its old flame, even joining America in a sado-masochistic menage-a-trois with its Iraqi lover.

Sadly, while the countries' leaders remained in love with each other, Britain and America themselves were becoming less keen on the idea of spending all their time in bed together and The Special Relationship began to break down. With the sweeping of Tony Blair from power and the hobbling of George Bush's Presidency, the Relationship - despite protestations from Gordon Brown and David Milliband that it was alive and well and planning to try for a baby in the autumn… Fall… no, autumn!... whatever - expired.

The Special Relationship will be buried at St Vegas's Little Chapel of the Drive-In Divorce. The American members of the congregation will sing Neil Sedaka’s Breaking Up is Hard to Do with a big grin on their faces while the British will sing Ken Dodd’s Happiness with tears streaming down their cheeks. Afterwards the joint CD collection will be ceremoniously divided with George Bush keeping the Best of Huey Lewis and the News single and Gordon Brown clutching a copy of the Arctic Monkey’s first album… whatever it’s called…

⁽¹⁾ with perhaps just a teensy bit of help from the 10,000,000 Russians who died in the war and their comrades.

Tony Blair's Premiership 1997-2007

The streets of Britain were today filled with weeping hordes as a great portion of humanity gathered to greet the passing of the Premiership of Tony Blair with tears of unalloyed joy.

To understand the Premiership, one must first understand its parents. Its father was a Labour Party desperate to return to power after the bruising humiliation of defeat in 1992 by John Major's Conservatives (a group who had the economic know-how of George IV, the political savoir-faire of Neville Chamberlain and the deep moral sense of Aleister Crowley). Like so many beings of a certain age, the Party decided that the best way to prove its continuing virility was to abandon its long-term partner, Socialism, and take up with younger lovers, in this case two bright young MPs - Gordon Brown and Tony Blair.

Soon the Party was shucking off its cloth cap, sticking its whippet in a bag with a couple of bricks and locking itself away with Tony one night, Gordon the next, to make mad passionate love to the free market and globalisation. It was following one of these wild nights with the Party that Tony met Gordon in Islington's "Granita" restaurant to announce that he was expecting the party leadership. Luckily for all, Gordon took the news stoically, pausing only to stab his hand with a fork in frustration and extract a solemn pledge from Tony that he would one day hand over the leadership to him, before congratulating his rival for the Labour Party's love whilst keeping his fingers crossed behind his back.

And who was the Party's new paramour? Anthony Charles Lynton Blair had the assets to turn any ageing Party's head: he was young, he had a nice smile and he had an extraordinary ability to fully and honestly believe what he was saying at any given moment - an ability he showed from an early age, casting himself as a through-and-through Englishman despite having been born and educated in Scotland⁽¹⁾, not to mention watching Jackie Milburn play for Newcastle United from the, completely fictional at the time, seats behind the goal at St James, stowing away on the utterly non-existent Newcastle-Barbados plane service and - most impressively of all - standing four-square behind the 1983 Labour manifesto's call for nuclear disarmament and for the country to quit the EEC while privately informing his selection conference that he disagreed with both policies.

By the time of his maiden speech he was informing the Commons and the nation that he believed in socialism because it stood for "cooperation, not confrontation; for fellowship, not fear. It stands for equality" - words which can happily stand in the Hall of Historically Ironic Speeches alongside Margaret Thatcher's quotation of St Francis's Prayer in 1979, "Where there is discord, may we bring harmony. Where there is error, may we bring truth. Where there is doubt, may we bring faith. And where there is despair, may we bring hope" not to mention General John Sedgwick's "They couldn't hit an elephant at this dist...".

Utterly infatuated by the youthful Blair, the Party cast aside all that it once believed in, whether it be promises to raise income tax and restore trade union rights, pledges to pursue nuclear disarmament or even its long-held desire to "secure for the workers by hand or by brain the full fruits of their industry and the most equitable distribution thereof that may be possible upon the basis of the common ownership of the means of production, distribution, and exchange, and the best obtainable system of popular administration and control of each industry or service" (a desire which was in any event so wordy that the Party usually managed to forget what it was going on about half way through reading it), all in the burning need to be seen as "New".

And so, having reduced his lover to a besotted devotee, ready to do anything its new leader wanted for the slightest chance of successfully getting up an election, and aided by a Conservative party which, under John Major, evinced all the togetherness and discipline of a member of the Yugoslav Federation, Tony Blair found himself ready to give birth to his Premiership.

The Premiership was born on 2nd May 1997. Like the Roman people, exhausted by the cruel and incompetent rule of Tiberius, gleefully saluting their new emperor Caligula, so the British people, exhausted by the cruelty of the Thatcherites and incompetence of the Majorites, gleefully saluted their new Prime Minister as, flanked by his loyal Praetorian guard of spin doctors, he swept into Number 10 Downing Street.

Young and bold, the Premiership moved with a reckless pace, acting swiftly on its greatest priorities - such as evicting Downing Street cat Humphrey from its long-time home for fear of aggravating Cherie's allergies. Sadly, the Premiership's greatest enemy - the very same Gordon Brown who had given it his blessing in Granita - was already acting with even greater swiftness, choosing to prove his own New Labour credentials by throwing away years of party tradition and centuries of governmental responsibility by privatising the Bank of England.

Though briefly distracted by the need to produce the appropriate strained expression and catch in the voice around the time of the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, the Premiership was soon to strike back at Chancellor Brown. While the brooding figure at Number 11 contented himself with taking benefits away from single mothers, the wholesale privatisation of both the nation's assets and almost all public-sector investment, and restricting pension increases to 75p, Mr Blair was embarking on a series of wide-ranging reforms, introducing devolution, removing peers from the House of Lords, passing the Freedom of Information Act and creating the post of Mayor of London. All were hailed as great successes. Unfortunately the Premiership itself was later to regret each and every one of them, even trying to nobble the mayoral vote by putting up a joke candidate, former Health Secretary and full-time Santa impersonator Frank Dobson. Happily, the Premiership had other strings to its bow. Unhappily one of them was the Millennium Dome, a folly on an (this being prior to the attempts to win the World Cup 2006 for England, the Olympic funding farce and, indeed, the Iraq war) unimaginable scale, which sought to commemorate the past thousand years by putting a big tent on some disused wasteland and filling it with exhibits so staggeringly tacky they could have been "lovingly handcrafted" for the Franklin Mint.

By the end of its first term, however, the Premiership was able to boast one unalloyed success⁽²⁾: the Northern Irish peace process. At last there was an achievement Mr Blair felt able to call completely his own, even despite the fact much of the spade work had actually been done by Mr Major.

Buoyed by this knowledge, the memory of the dark days under John Major and housing prices rising faster than a city trader's bonus, Tony Blair's Premiership was swept back to power in 2001.

With Mr Brown once more seeking to demonstrate his mastery of domestic politics, this time by giving oodles of cash to educational and health bodies whose idea of fiscal planning was to drop all their new money into a big hole in the ground in the hope it might grow into a money tree, Mr Blair knew he would have to look elsewhere to make an impression.

Having already discovered the enormous kudos that could be won by blowing places up following his intervention in the Yugoslav conflict, he was delighted to find that the new President of the United States of America was intent on destabilising as much of the globe as possible, by tearing up any treaties he could find and sending troops to anywhere Dick Cheney told him to Halliburton could find reconstruction work democracy needed spreading⁽³⁾. Soon Bush and Blair were bringing the benefits of all their skills to bear on Iraq, seeking to convince the world that it constituted an imminent threat to peoples across the globe - despite there being absolutely no credible evidence to back them up - and, when the world refused to agree with them, going ahead and blowing Iraq up anyway.

Not only did the Iraq war have the effect of giving Mr Blair the opportunity to pose with tanks and try to sound Churchillian, the hatred and suspicion it stirred up, combined with the activities of groups such as Al Qaeda, also gave him - along with a succession of Home Secretaries all of whom regarded Genghis Khan as a namby-pamby liberal - the opportunity to bring in more and more repressive legislation and restrict further and further the freedom of the individual. With more and more ASBOs, instant fines, powers of detention without charge, supervision orders, soon the prisons were filled to overflowing.

Despite all this and more⁽⁴⁾ the Premiership somehow succeeded in returning to power once more in 2005. However, none who looked upon it could doubt that it was wounded, even as they noted that the majority of the wounds were self-inflicted. Worse was yet to come when it became clear that, in accordance with immemorial practice, the Government had been merrily sending major party donors towards the ermine outfitters and seats in the House of Lords with all the speed and urgency normally associated with one's bladder suddenly realising that it contains eight pints of Special Brew and it's a long journey to the lavatories. Thus it was that the Premiership saw Mr Blair become the first Prime Minister to be interviewed by police whilst in office, even as eternal rival Gordon Brown at last plucked up courage to insist that Mr Blair set a timetable for his departure.

So it was that, despite a sincere desire to do good, Tony Blair's Premiership passed away, Mr Blair having found himself in charge of a country where the rich have got much richer, widening the gap between themselves and the poor to an unbridgeable gulf; where our children are increasingly segregated by race and/or religion from the moment they enter their schools, at which they may well be taught that the world is mere thousands of years old and the theory of evolution is a lie; where our streets are littered with CCTV cameras and our every detail is recorded on computer; where the poor cannot afford a home and the young cannot afford an education; where Muslims feel themselves vilified by their fellow Britons and other Britons feel fear of their Muslim compatriots; where destitute refugees seeking succour are reviled as spongers and denied the basics of existence; where our prisons are bursting while a hysterical media whips up fear of crime in the streets; and where our armed forces are sent to die on foreign fields in a hopeless cause.

The remains of Tony Blair's Premiership will tour the globe over the next seven weeks, before being buried on 27th June at St Gordon's Church of the Best Served Cold. Buried alongside it will be the corpse of its pet bulldog, John Prescott. It is survived by a country which is more confrontational and less co-operative; for fear, not fellowship and is far, far less equal than it should be.


⁽¹⁾ This is the reverse of the ability of certain university students to insist that they are Irish - running around in heavy sweaters, swilling pints of Guinness, listening to folk music and going on endlessly about "the craic" and "me da''" - despite having been no nearer to Ireland than an accidental trip to Kilburn after failing to get off at Finchley Road on the tube.
⁽²⁾ or two if you count the brilliant way Mr Blair made sure the smoking ban didn't apply to Bernie Ecclestone's Formula One championship.
⁽³⁾ unless the place democracy need spreading was North Korea, China, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Burma, Oman, Qatar, Florida &c &c
⁽⁴⁾ top-up fees, the David Kelly affair, Foundation hospitals to name just a few

Congress's Timetable for Withdrawal from Iraq 26 April 2007 - 1 May 2007

Four years to the day after he, somewhat prematurely, donned his best GI Joe fighter-pilot outfit to report the death of the War with Iraq (we must confess that at the time of his announcement the President was As A Dodo's Washington correspondent. Having thus contributed to our already dubious reputation for accuracy (for an example of which see eg here) and having developed a habit of leaving copies of the Gideon bible in our bedside tables and improving homilies about the dangers of alcohol all over As A Dodo Towers on every visit, we regret that we had no alternative but to fire him), President George W Bush has now confirmed the death of Congress's Timetable for Withdrawal from Iraq.

The Timetable was born in the final days of April 2007, when a Congress eager to be seen to be doing something about the war with Iraq (and even more eager to have a multi-billion dollar bargaining chip to back up its negotiations with the President) insisted on attaching a timetable for withdrawal to a bill providing funding for the continued US presence in that benighted part of the globe.

From its first moments it was plain that the Timetable could not hope to survive beyond a few days. The merest glance at its delicate frame revealed it to be not merely a transparent attempt to gain political capital but also a bid to humiliate the President, the Timetable containing as it did not merely detailed plans for withdrawal from Iraq but also a requirement that Mr Bush attend double English lessons in the morning and Geography lessons in the afternoon (the latter presumably aimed at persuading him that - contrary to the assertions of Vice-President Cheney - Iraq could not be confused either with Al Qaeda's former base of operations in Afghanistan or the home of the 9/11 suicide bombers in Saudi Arabia).

Indeed, so lacking in strength was the Timetable that it took it some five days to struggle the mile from Congress to the White House. By the time it arrived, the President made it plain that he had no alternative but to put it out of its misery, consigning it to oblivion with a stab of a pen which he let be known (in an in-no-way utterly distasteful manner) had been given to him by the father of a marine killed in Iraq two years ago.

Seeking - like Brutus on the steps of the forum - to justify his actions, the President announced that the bill had sought to "substitute the opinions of politicians for the judgements of military commanders" - an action which he wholly condemned (unless the politicians in question were Paul "I could be so good for you, baby" Wolfowitz or Donald "I see no torture" Rumsfeld) - as well as "setting a timetable for chaos and confusion" that would "demoralise the Iraqi people and encourage killers across the Middle East", which tasks the President's administration already had well in hand.

Thus it was that the Timetable passed away. It will be buried quietly this weekend at the Church of St Mike Dukakis the Politically Hopeless. The Reverend Hillary Clinton will read from the Book of "What Me? Vote for the War? 'Fraid You've Got the Wrong Person, Squire. I was Tying my Shoelaces at the Time" and the hymn will be Number 582 "There is a Baghdad Far Away Without a City Wall, Reliable Electricity or Working Plumbing".

Lewis "Scooter" Libby's Political Usefulness 1981-2007

Lewis "Scooter" Libby’s Political Usefulness as assistant to President Bush and Chief of Staff to Dick Cheney was legally terminated yesterday when it was found guilty on four counts of obstruction of justice and perjury in the cover-up of the leaking of the name of a CIA operative, and one count of being named after a character in The Muppets.

Scooter Libby’s Political Usefulness was born in 1981, the offspring of a legal career defending dodgy businessmen and military-industrial corporations and a job offer from his friendly old Yale professor, Paul Wolfowitz, who always likes to help out someone in need, provided that someone is already a hugely successful, go-getting, higher-rate-tax-payer and not some welfare-guzzling schmo who might actually be in, er, need.

The Usefulness quickly proved its worth at the State Department, specialising in East Asian and Pacific affairs, before moving to the Pentagon in 1989, as Principal Deputy Under-Secretary Of Defense For Strategy And Resources And Making Up Stuff About Foreign Countries As An Excuse To Start A War With Them.

By the end of the century, The Usefulness had become part of George W Bush’s core security team, along with Donald Rumsfeld, Condoleezza Rice, and Mr Wolfowitz – a network of neo-conservatives known as “The Vulcans”, completely devoid of human emotion, able to kill a liberal with their “death grip” but, strangely, singularly unsuccessful in achieving a mind-meld with the President.

In 2001, The Usefulness was made Vice-President Dick Cheney’s Chief of Staff becoming so close to the Vice President that it was known as “Dick Cheney’s Dick Cheney”. At the same time, it also became an assistant to Mr Bush (“Dick Cheney’s Dick”) and national security adviser, shaping policy on Afghanistan, Iraq, North Korea and other countries neocons thought the US could easily whup in a fight that posed a threat to world peace.

It was during the build-up to the invasion of Iraq that the seeds of The Usefulness's demise were sown, when former US ambassador Joseph Wilson publicly cast doubt on the President’s insistence that Saddam Hussein had the ability to develop nuclear weapons. Why Mr Wilson should have cast such doubt no one can say, perhaps it was out of envy of Mr Bush, perhaps a deep and abiding hatred of freedom or perhaps even because Saddam Hussein was not developing nuclear weapons. Nonetheless it was at this time that The Usefulness's nemesis arrived, in the guise of some shadowy figure - who may or may not have loved hunting quail and septuagenarian lawyers - authorised the leaking of the fact Mr Wilson’s wife, Victoria Plame, was a CIA operative and – far, far worse – the owner of several Joni Mitchell albums, details which were both capable of putting her life in danger and ending her career.

With the hunt for this shadowy figure on in Capitol Hill and among the press and indictments being threatened, The Usefulness entered its last moments, nobly allowing itself to be cast into the path of the ravenous pursuing lawyers, who set upon it with glee. Even as it was being devoured the Usefulness strove to protect those who had cast it aside, unwilling to call on its former masters even to speak in its favour. Found guilty of covering-up the Plame leak, The Usefulness was useful no more. It blinked its last and died yesterday in Courtroom 17.

Scooter Libby’s Political Usefulness will be buried at the Lee Majors Church of the Fall Guy. It is survived by Dick Cheney, Karl Rove, Richard Armitage, Paul Wolfowitz and a pardon from George Bush just before he leaves office in January, 2009.

Bush and Blair 2001-2007

Comedy fans are mourning the death of one of the world's funniest double acts, Bush and Blair, following today's shock announcement by British Prime Minister Tony Blair that he has decided to withdraw from his comic partnership with the USA's President George Bush and will no longer be joining him on the set of the latest in their series of hilarious "Road To" movies, "The Road To A New Vietnam".

It was in 2001 that Tony Blair decided to replace his former sidekick Bill "Slick Willie" Clinton after Clinton's comic persona as a loveable lothario - and catchphrase "I did not have sexual relations with that woman" - began to prove box-office death in America's post-millennial moral climate. Initially Blair had hoped to hook up with Clinton's old straight man, Al Gore, but was to opt instead for the guy behind the tongue-tied goof routine that stole American hearts and votes during the 2000 Presidential Election.

Almost immediately Bush and Blair began preparations for their hilariously titled - and now notorious - "Bringing Democracy" World Tour, Blair spending each day working on the wonderfully ludicrous "I'm a Pretty Straight Kinda Guy" routine that had won him the laughter of audiences across the United Kingdom, while Dubya perfected everything from his "Kenny Boy Lay? - Never Met Him In My Life" skit to the death-defying piece of physical comedy that was "Chewing A Pretzel".

With Bush and Blair's comic characters in place, Dubya playing a knuckle-dragging jock and Blair the smooth-talking poodle that insisted on following him everywhere he went, Bush's long-time manager Dick Cheney spotted the box-office potential in the sequence of scripts that would become the pair's "Road To" movies. Soon they were laughing on "The Road to Democracy", sweeping along the dusty "Road to Afghanistan Liberation" and crying on "The Road to Iraqi Freedom" (known in Britain under the title "The Road to Electoral Suicide").

It was during the filming of the last of these three movies that rumours of a split first began to surface. Crew members reported the sounds of heated arguments emerging from the pair's trailer and more and more often the once inseparable duo were seen to arrive and leave the set apart. The cause, some claim, was the latest script optioned for the pair by Mr Cheney, "The Road To Iran" (also known as "The Road to Armageddon"). Whatever the basis for the dispute, it was increasingly clear that relations between the two men had begun to sour. Indeed it came as little surprise when, on Tuesday night, Mr Blair announced that he would be pulling out of the duo's latest lraq tour, "The Big Troop Surge", to concentrate on other projects.

The comedy duo that was Bush and Blair will be remembered fondly by its fans, both of whom can be found in a secure wing of The Charge of the Light Brigade Hospital for the Militarily Insane.

Bush and Blair are now working on their solo projects: Tony Blair's "Legacy Tour" (fans should be aware that the tour has now been considerably shortened) and George Bush's "Who Gives A Crap? I Ain't Standing For Election Again" stand-up appearances in Washington's premier comedy venue, the White House.

Rapid Global Warming 1979-2007

The death of Rapid Global Warming was received with scenes of joyous celebration around the world after it was announced that President George W Bush - inspired by the brilliant work of Montgomery T Burns and Professor Ogden Wernstrom - had authorised a crack squad of highly-trained giant mirrors to assassinate it by cutting off its vital supply of light from the sun.

Rapid Global Warming was born in 1979 to a long line of Warmings which have ruled the planet since time immemorial. The youngest Warming quickly set to work in the family business and soon made its parents proud as it increased the rate of land temperature twice as fast as ocean temperatures. Setting a pace faster than any predecessor since that embarrassing incident with the barbie led to the Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum, many critics alleged that it was only able to maintain itself by mainlining fossil fuels in quantities that would make even Keith Richards wobble slightly and go, “Wow!”

Throughout the 80s and 90s, Rapid Global Warming was engaged in a long battle against opponents such as The Greens, riding rough-shod over claims that its fossil fuel intake would lead to the destruction of the planet and breaking into their house at night while they were sleeping, to leave their TV, stereo and PC on standby and leave their fridge door open.

It was in the early twenty-first century that the first blow against Rapid Global Warming was struck, when the US government, realising that invading foreign countries for oil is a lot more trouble than it’s worth, rushed to staunch its haemorrhaging popularity by launching a sneak attack using the most-sophisticated sun-blocking technology since the invention of the knotted handkerchief. Crippled by the most cunning plan in space since the cool-headed and logical thinking which gave birth to President Reagan’s Star Wars laser-missile defence plan, Rapid Global Warming quickly fell into decline. It finally passed away at the weekend at its family home, with all the windows open and the radiators on full blast.

Rapid Global Warming will be cremated on top of a giant oil well at St Bush’s Church of Last-Ditch Idiotic Ideas. It is survived by the US government’s plan to save us all by launching giant mirrors into space to block sunlight from reaching the Earth, and an increased use of fossil fuels and nuclear power to meet the giant surge in demand for electricity as we try to see just where the hell we’re going and what the f**k we’re doing during the long, dark days of the coming Ice Age.

Iraq Study Group 15 March 2006 - 6 December 2006

The Iraq Study Group, the bipartisan panel commissioned to suggest policy recommendation on the Iraqi conflict, was gunned down in cold blood in Washington DC on Thursday.

Headed by former Secretary of State James Baker, the ISG was first appointed in March of this year to analyse and investigate the surprising lack of success in bringing peace, democracy and freedom to Iraq following the US-led decision to bomb the crap out of it in the name of peace, democracy and freedom.

In September, Baker claimed there was no “magic bullet” to resolve the Iraqi conflict, displaying a sensitive command of the English language and a wholesome lack of irony that confirmed he was the right man to head the commission.

After nine months of extensive investigation and vigorous political debate, the ISG revealed its 79 recommendations for resolving the conflict in Iraq including: cut and run, run away, give up, blame it on someone else, and start a war with another country to distract attention from the godawful mess we're in.

Just minutes after releasing its ground-breaking formula for peace, an assailant known only as “The President” calmly strolled up to the presidential podium in full view of the world’s media assembled at the White House and began pumping bullets into the body of the ISG - shouting that Iran and Syria could only sit down at the table if they made some decisions which lead to “peace, not conflict”.

He then blasted the ISG in the phased withdrawal of US troops before claiming that he would seriously consider the report as he fired the fatal shot, snarling, “Seriously consider this, asshole!”

To add to the tragedy, caught up in the crossfire was a small British poodle - "Tony Blair of 10 Downing Street" according to the tag on its collar - which had run to join the ISG members.

President Bush addressed the nation last night, condemning the brutal assassination of the ISG, which he blamed on al-Qaida insurgents, and calling for the immediate invasion of their headquarters in Antarctica, but definitely not North Korea or Iran or anywhere else with nuclear weapons.

The Iraq Study Group will be buried beneath the Joint Chiefs of Staff military report into the situation in Iraq. It is survived by civil war and the George W Bush Bible Study Group.

The Turkey 10,000,000 BC - the last Thursday in November 2006 AD

The Turkey, the bird that has - since the collapse of the bald eagle population and the ascendancy of the Bush dynasty - come to symbolise the United States in so many ways, was assassinated yesterday (the last Thursday in November) on a vast array of dining tables across the North American continent. Police say they were powerless to prevent the turkeycide, despite having prior knowledge of the plot.

The Turkey was born into the family Meleagris gallopavo ten million years ago and quickly established itself throughout considerable parts of North America. But it wasn’t until the latter part of its long life that The Turkey first made its mark upon American society, when it established a trading relationship with Native Americans. They provided The Turkey with somewhere extremely warm to roost and The Turkey returned the favour by providing them with food, flights for arrows and feathers for headdresses.

It was with the arrival of the Pilgrim Fathers in 1620 that The Turkey began its meteoric rise to stardom. A year later, the surviving pilgrims celebrated a successful harvest with their new friend The Turkey and gave thanks that they were no longer living in England – a tradition which millions of grateful Americans continue to this day.

In 1863, Abraham Lincoln honoured The Turkey’s popularity with its own annual public holiday called Thanksgiving, where families gathered together to offer thanks to The Turkey for being such a great pal and going so well with candied yams. This was far from the last Presidential honour the bird was to receive.

In 1947 Harry S Truman instituted the practice of giving The Turkey a presidential pardon, a tradition for which Richard Nixon was later to be extremely grateful.

In 1969, The Turkey became the first bird on the Moon, sharing a meal with Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin. However, Aldrin has never forgiven NASA for selecting Armstrong to open his foil food first, while Armstrong has never lived down his famous slip of the tongue, “Houston, The Turkey has landed.”

In 2000 The Turkey had its finest hour when it was elected 43rd President of the United States. But the once popular bird soon began to lose its loyal following when it stopped talking turkey and became mired in a series of political scandals which many believe led to yesterday's brutal slaying of The Turkey by a lone assailant and 300 million accomplices.

The Turkey was cremated in a slow and moving ceremony, spoilt only by a large family row about who knocked over the gravy boat. In attendance were its close friends stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, succotash and pumpkin pie.

The Turkey is survived by the music of Paris Hilton and the movies of Rob Schneider.

Tony Blair Pretending 1953-2006

Tony Blair Pretending died last Friday during an interview with Al-Jazeera when the Prime Minister agreed with Sir David Frost that the Iraq war had “so far been pretty much of a disaster”.

Tony Blair Pretending was born in Edinburgh in 1953 and quickly established itself, watching from the seats behind the goal at St James' Park as Jackie Milburn played for Newcastle United - despite being only four-years-old, never having gone to a football match at the time and there being no seats in the stand in the late 50's. Just ten years later, Tony Blair Pretending was stowing away on a flight from Newcastle to the Bahamas – completely unhindered by the fact that no such flight ever existed between those two airports and the fact Tony Blair himself was being educated in Scotland at the time. After Fettes College, Tony Blair Pretending went up to Oxford where it studied law and became the new Mick Jagger, God’s gift to women and the greatest rock musician ever to have lived.

It was with its involvement in politics that Tony Blair Pretending (and its friends Alastair Campbell and Peter Mandelson) began to come into its own as it first convinced the Labour Party that Mr Blair was a CND-loving, Europe-hating, card-carrying socialist. Later it was to convince the whole country that it was a "pretty straight kind of guy" who would right all Britain's wrongs by a complete break with Thatcherism, having already led Gordon Brown to believe he would become the next leader of the Labour Party after Tony Blair, before persuading the future Chancellor that yes it was his turn to pay for lunch and no that wasn’t a silver fork sticking in his back.

Given its enormous talents (scoring the winning goal in '66, discovering the structure of DNA and making love to the young Clara Bow in the 1920's among them), it came as no surprise when Tony Blair Pretending assumed its rightful position on the world stage. By 1997 it had formed a “special relationship”with America's President Clinton, repeatedly assuring him of Tony Blair's true and unwavering love, before going on to say exactly the same to President Bush after the year 2000. By the early noughties Tony Blair Pretending achieved its greatest ever flight of fantasy, persuading the British people that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction and thereby justifying its support for the invasion of Iraq. When later challenged on this point, Tony Blair Pretending was able to point out that, in any event, it had consulted God on the matter during one of its regular briefings with God at Number Ten, and that God had given His full backing.

Tony Blair Pretending succumbed to a massive and fatal truth attack on Friday and was buried at the Church of St Billy the Liar. The service was conducted by Monsignor Jeffrey Archer and was attended by friends and colleagues from around the world, including Jesus, Elvis, Harvey the six-foot rabbit, Santa and the Tooth Fairy.

Miraculously, on the third day, Tony Blair Pretending rose from the grave and appeared to its disciples on the road to electing Gordon Brown, where it proved it was very much alive by insisting it had never met Sir David Frost in its life, let alone been interviewed by him.

Donald Rumsfeld's Political Career 1957-2006

The Political Career of Donald Henry Rumsfeld died last night, shortly after a large group of Washington villagers carrying pitchforks and torches arrived outside the White House demanding that President Bush "destroy the monster".

Donald Rumsfeld's Political Career began in 1957 when the young Donald, fresh from Naval service took up a post as Administrative Assistant to a Republican Congressman. Even at the tender age of 25, Donnie's political skills were already burgeoning, as could be seen by the fact his boss was voted out of office just one year later. Undeterred, Donnie went on to other political staff roles before being elected to the House of Representatives in 1962, a position which - unlike the armies he would one day take charge of - he was able to hold untroubled for 7 years.

It was in 1969, however, that the Political Career came into its own when - following an accident in which Donald was fatally injured by the explosion of his own over-inflated ego - Rumsfeld was reconstructed in a secret lab in the Chicago School of Economics. The creature that emerged from that laboratory was hailed as a new Adam by its neo-Conservative creators, a sin against nature by its opponents and "A ruthless little bastard, you can be sure of that" by its new employer, President Nixon.

When, five years later, President Nixon was forced out of the White House as one of the USA's most reviled leaders since King George, it came as little surprise that Mr Rumsfeld's unique talents were recognised by another great statesman, President Gerald Ford. It was under President Ford - who may have been distracted by attempts to walk and chew gum, or perhaps a passing puppy dog, at the time - that Mr Rumsfeld became the youngest ever Secretary of Defense. In 1977 the Ford awarded Mr Rumsfeld the Presidential Medal of Honour. By 1978 Mr Ford had lost an election.

In the next few years Donald Rumsfeld's Political Career became largely dormant, satisfying its unnatural urges by supplying Saddam Hussein with weaponry and intelligence under President Reagan and selling nuclear equipment to North Korea in accord with the wishes of the Clinton administration.

In the year 2000 Mr Rumsfeld was selected for service by George W Bush. By 2001 he was in charge of the Defence Department once more, readying America's armed forces for the new millennium. His success in transforming the military - in the face of opposition from the dinosaurs at the Pentagon - into a new "light and nimble" force was seen in 2003 when the invasion and pacification of Iraq was carried out by Sergeant Dwight Shergenhauer armed only with a spoon. Sadly Mr Rumsfeld's prediction that the people of Iraq would all spontaneously lay down their arms and burst into hymns of praise for George W Bush and the American way were ruined by the liberal media, the ungrateful families of dead servicemen and those same dinosaur generals at the Pentagon.

With the war - through no fault of Mr Rumsfeld's - becoming increasingly unpopular, The Political Career was seen stalking the battlements of the Defence Department, committing random appalling acts such as using a machine to sign letters of condolence, torturing the English language during press conferences and Senate hearings and remaining in its post after the Abu Ghraib scandal. With opinion among the public and Washington villagers turning against it, The Political Career was ultimately to end its days by plunging from the roof of the Defence Department. Those first at the scene - Dick Cheney, Karl Rove and George W Bush - all confirm that the death was definitely suicide.

Donald Rumsfeld's Political Career will be buried in a series of lucrative company directorships. It is survived by the knowledge that, with Mr Rumsfeld no longer in charge of America's military, the Rapture is just that little bit further away.

Republican Control of the House 1994-2006

The White House and friends of President Bush's administration were in mourning today following the death of the Republican Party's Control of the House of Representatives, which passed away after contracting a long and destructive illness during an ill-advised foreign business trip to Iraq.

The Republicans' Control was born in 1994, to the surprise of many, no one more so than President Bill Clinton, who was immediately forced to deny he was the father.

Under the guiding hand of Speaker Newt Gingrich (but not in a creepy, Mark Foley guiding hand way), The Republicans' Control quickly found its feet and began bullying Democrat initiatives in the House, picking on the poor and the huddled masses and, in 2000, winning the White House for its sidekick, George W Bush.

After 9/11, The Republicans' Control began its work in earnest with the introduction of the Patriot Act, which required all US citizens to check their civil liberties at the door. Although 2001 was a busy year, The Republicans' Control did find time for an overseas vacation in Afghanistan, where it hoped to be reunited with an old family friend, Osama bin Laden.

However, a never-ending series of political and financial scandals left The Republicans' Control weakened and gasping for breath and President Bush’s approval ratings dropped to a dangerous level. Desperate Neocons began an infusion of billions of dollars in a futile bid to stop the decline but to no avail, as Americans began to question The Republicans' Control’s determination to remain in the region despite not having a clear exit programme.

Sadly, a last-minute attempt at foot-in-mouth resuscitation by America’s leading stand-up comedian, John Kerry, failed to revive its health and The Republicans' Control was read the last rites, as it made its peace with God and other prominent backers of the party.

It suffered a series of fatal attacks on Tuesday this week, losing control of South Baghdad, North Baghdad, East and West Baghdad and most of Iraq, while Oliver North, the Republican challenger for the southern state of Nicaragua, lost again to Daniel Ortega.

The Republican’s Control of the House of Representatives will be buried somewhere in the wee small hours of Fox News bulletins. It is survived by Hillary Clinton's Campaign Warchest, a lame-duck President and The Race for the Senate, which is currently going down to the wire ... along with Karl Rove and Donald Rumsfeld.

The Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty 1968-2006

The Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty was reduced to a pile of radioactive dust today in a moving ceremony held in North Korea, having passed away suddenly this morning in an explosion brighter than the sun and louder even than the noise George Bush made when he heard about Mark Foley’s emails. The ceremony, whose charming centrepiece was the exploding of a nuclear weapon, was carried out underground, a move necessitated by the fact the North Korean government had already laid waste to most of the country's surface and quite a few of its people.

Born on July 1st, 1968, the Treaty decreed that only the five permanent members of the United Nations Security Council - The USA, Russia, China, Britain and France - would be permitted to possess nuclear weapons. Its astonishing success during its lifetime can be seen from the fact that no other state ever came into possession of such devastating weapons, unless you count India, Israel, Pakistan, any country ever visited by a disgruntled former Soviet nuclear scientist in desperate need of cash to pay off his gambling debts, or Fox News. Many experts believe The Treaty was in poor health for most of its short, 38-year life, though it soldiered on manfully, ignoring persistent nagging problems such as the many countries who refused to sign up to join it despite a suspicious tendency to glow in the dark and produce a surprising number of three-eyed fish.

The funeral was marred by heckling from representatives of the United States who condemned the funeral as “a provocative act”, while senior Republicans proposed reducing global stockpiles of nuclear weapons by launching a pre-emptive strike on Iran, or failing that on Canada for its unilateral production of uranium-enriched Celine Dion albums and its hostile mispronounciation of "aboot". Despite this, few allowed their enjoyment of proceedings to be dimmed, with several nuclear bunker salesmen seen rubbing their hands with glee and dancing jigs with shotgun manufacturers and End Timers getting ready for the Rapture.

The NNPT is survived by irradiated cockroaches and wheelchair-bound Germanic scientists with a weird resemblance to Peter Sellers crying out, "Mein Fuhrer!"

Cherie Blair's WAGhood 1997-2006

The news that Cherie Blair's time as a leading member of the England WAGs (Wives And Girlfriends) has passed away after nine-and-a-half years has come as an enormous shock to expensive hairdressers and style consultants across Britain and an enormous relief to Labour Party supporters and Downing Street officials.

Cherie Blair's WAGhood was born in May 1997 when, with her husband elevated to the Premiership, humble Cherie Blair - the straightforward young woman who once told a reporter she could have grown up to be a simple Liverpudlian shopgirl - joined the ranks of "Wives And Girlfriends" of the international scene's most famous players.

Though often criticised for finding herself in the light of media stardom only due to her proximity to her silky-skilled husband, there can be little doubt that as a WAG Cherie brought something unique to the celebrity firmament, even if that unique something was merely a tendency to shoot her mouth off at extremely unfortunate moments. Certainly, things began well for Cherie's WAGhood - with her husband's electrifying pace of reform and exquisite bill-passing skills receiving praise abroad as well as at home, Mrs Blair soon found herself jetting first class around the globe, staying in the most luxurious locations and being pictured in the most glamorous nightspots in the most expensive of designer creations.

While Tony spent his days juggling balls with top-flight international players such as Silvio "I Own The Referee" Berlusconi and George "Bomb Your Legs Off" Bush, Cherie spent them indulging her hobby of being a lawyer, giggling with her style consultants and £275 a go hairdressers, or indulging in house-buying trips with Australian conmen. Her evenings were spent on Tony's arm, wining and dining with the country's leading celebrities, actors, artists, popstars and also Sir Cliff Richard.

It may be trite to assert that such a blessed life could not be long-lived but it was nonetheless true of Cherie's WAGhood. With her husband's pace and flair being sapped by the years, frequent conflicts with midfield maestro Gordon Brown, and tabloid rumours of an affair with George Bush, Cherie was soon facing the prospect of her WAGhood, like his career, being relegated to the bench. Attempts to carve out her own career in charity work were frustrated by the fact a major beneficiary so often seemed to be Cherie herself, while attempts to carve out a career as a respected judge were frustrated by her tendency to indulge in Mayan rebirthing ceremonies to readjust her energy flow. The final blow was to come when Tony suffered a dreadful injury following a tackle from behind by several members of his own team, led by Gordon Brown. Facing isolation and loss of her WAG privileges, Cherie's WAGhood spontaneously combusted.


The funeral ceremony was held in Manchester on Tuesday. As the WAGhood's small urn was placed in its niche before an honour guard of Hopi ear candle sellers and an audience who had been forced to pay £300 a head for the privilege of attending, Cherie herself was overcome by her emotions. That these emotions were chiefly malice and rage became evident as she had to be dragged from the graveside, screaming "F***ing Brown. I'll rip the lying Scottish get's f***ing throat out".

Cherie Blair's WAGhood is survived by a massive mortgage, a series of highly profitable "charity" lectures and Samantha Cameron.