The Office Christmas Party 0-2006

The Office Xmas Party was found dead this morning in a bus shelter with a half-eaten kebab in its hand. It is believed to have died last night after over 2000 years of drinking cheap wine and brightly-coloured cocktails, making multiple copies of its hairy hindparts on the office photocopier and trying to get off with that middle manager in Human Resources finally took its toll.

The Office Xmas Party started its long and hedonistic life in Bethlehem when shepherds and wise men first got together to discuss office politics, have a likeness of their posterior fashioned in clay tablet and then tell that new angel that they’re “really lovely, no really…”

In its youth, the Office Xmas Party was extremely popular with under-serfs, and junior scribes across the land. Much mead was consumed and illustrated manuscripts of apprentice monks’ rear ends are now displayed in the finest museums across the globe.

But it was with the dawn of the industrial age in the 19th century that saw the Office Xmas Party reach the zenith of its popularity. The Guild of Urchins, The Honourable Brethren of Chimney Sweeps and the Associated Pick-Pockets, amongst many corporations, looked forward to their annual works do when they would drunkenly spread scurrilous rumours about their fellow urchins, chimney sweeps and pick-pockets and claim that Master Fotherington in the Clerks office had offered them a sight of his sweetmeats.

In its senior years, however, the Office Xmas Party became tiresome: drunkenly insisting staff exchange presents with people they managed to ignore for the rest of the year, clink glasses with the boss who promised them promotion then gave the job to that talentless idiot from accounts and play pin the tail on the sales chart, spin the stapler and post room knock.

Towards the end of its last night, the Office Xmas Party finally plucked up the courage to tell its new, 21-year-old manager exactly what he thought of him and his new plans for the department, and was immediately fired. Thinking it was just a joke the Office Xmas Party continued to drink, finally staggering away from the building just before midnight, repeatedly muttering “the bastards” under its breath.

The Office Xmas Party had asked to be cremated, but due to its massive intake of alcohol, senior management rejected this request on health and safety grounds. The Office Xmas Party will instead be buried on the third floor of the Marketing Department, in a broom cupboard.

The Office Xmas Party is survived by the New Year’s Eve Party, the Birthday Party and the Wake for the Office Xmas Party which starts at lunchtime in the Secretarial Department where it is expected that staff will drink cheap wine, brightly-coloured cocktails, photocopy their arses and try to get off with that middle manager in Human Resources.

Those Who Knew Them: Augusto Pinochet 1915-2006

The following piece was commissioned from an old friend of the late General Pinochet, who knew the former Chilean dictator from shortly before his rise to power in 1973. Sadly the author wishes to remain anonymous. We shall refer to him simply as "Mr X". Those wishing to write to Mr X are advised to contact him via "The Agency", Langley, Virginia.

People say a lot of things about Augusto Pinochet these days. Most of the things they say are bad. All I can tell you is that people have forgotten what Chile was like back in the day. Before the General came to power, Chile was going to heck in a jet-powered handbasket - rampant inflation, class warfare. And strikes?! There were strikes every goshdarn day! And I should know, me and the boys organised at least a half of 'em. Yep, back in '73 Chile was more than ripe for a strong leader to pluck. And that strong leader was Augusto Pinochet.

Sure, people say it was wrong to bring down the Allende government, but he was a Marxist for darn's sake! Now sure, sure, he was democratically elected but, you know, there's democracies and there's democracies. I mean, these days, we like all democracies, no matter what evil-eyed, West-hating freak is in charge. Back in the day, though, we knew what sort of democracies we wanted and they sure as shinola weren't run by commies. No, what America, north and south, needed was a guy in a spiffy uniform who didn't mind offing a few thousand mother-loving socialists in order to make sure the trains ran on time.

Augusto Pinochet was a strong man who knew his mind. He believed in freedom: freedom for people to support him, freedom for people not to be tortured as long as they supported him, freedom for people to remain breathing as long as they didn't speak out against him. And he had a good heart too, in fact so good a heart that it could be guaranteed to fail him just about every time he faced a serious inquiry from those pinko "democratically-elected" leaders that replaced him or those no-good Euro-types. That's what I call a pro!

How to sum up a man like that? People say you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs. All I can tell you is that General Augusto Pinochet was one heck of an omelette maker. He didn't just break those eggs, he disappeared 'em off the face of the Earth and had you locked up if you even dared to ask where they'd gotten to. Heck of a guy.

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 Chelsea Tractor 1941-2006

This morning middle-class mums across West London eager to drop their youngest off at prep school before making the dash to Harvey Nicks for coffee and a natter - not to mention the vast majority of automobile-owning North Americans and Jeremy Clarkson - were united in mourning the untimely death of the Chelsea Tractor, "4x4", "SUV" or "4WD", the powerful beasts that once roamed roads across the globe and which, for many, came to epitomise strength, versatility and total disregard for the environment.

First sighted in the wild in the early 1940s and known at the time as "Jeeps", Chelsea Tractors were initially seen by the vast majority as untameable creatures, always given to scrambling up hillsides and along twisting jungle paths and frequently involved in scenes of battle, whether they be in Central Europe in the dying days of the Second World War or outside Loretta Switt's trailer in M*A*S*H that time Alan Alda accidentally drove over her foot.

Some of the first attempts to tame the Jeep were made in Britain. A careful programme of cross-breeding resulted in the production of the "Land Rover", a sturdy (if usually slow) creature which spent its time skittering up mountainsides and down into valleys from the Scottish Highlands to the Cornish Coast, usually with a sheep or two in the back and often a lonely shepherd in a mounting state of excitement in the front.

By the late 1960s and early 70s, the rugged 4x4s had become a familiar sight across the countryside, with some of the braver individuals even being sighted on the outskirts of towns and cities. A confident furture for the species seemed certain. But then came the oil crisis of 1973. With their favourite food stuff (top grade petroleum) growing scarce, many predicted the powerful, if sometimes ungainly, animals could go the way of the Dodo. However, thanks to careful nurturing, they were able to survive in isolated rural pockets, living off a diet of red diesel and the odd drop of four-star.

With the species' very survival under threat, top scientists at car manufacturers in America, Europe and Japan began selective breeding programmes. By the mid 1980's these programmes had borne fruit and the first Chelsea Tractors were able to be released into a new, safe environment - the city. Soon Chelsea Tractors were swarming over smog-filled traffic routes in urban centres the world over, braving hazards from speed bumps up to 5 centimetres high all the way to potholes up to 2 centimetres deep in their quest to carry little Julian from the front drive to soccer practice.

With the explosion of the species it could not be long before predators began to gather. Soon groups of environmental activists, teenagers eager for a cause and politicians eager to sweep up the green vote were seen gathering near the Chelsea Tractors' watering holes (or, as the locals know them "petrol" or "gas" "stations") and sniffing the air, before passing out due to all the fumes. Before long they took to setting up traps for the turbo-powered behemoths in the form of congestion charges and poisoning their food supply with green taxes.

By the mid-noughties, the Chelsea Tractor began to vanish from our streets. By the end there were only a few, unreliable sightings of the creatures - sometimes outside the palatial crib of an LA rapper, sometimes making the weary journey to Knightsbridge for the sales.

The Chelsea Tractor will be buried under a mountain of high petrol prices and increased environmental awareness. It is survived by an increasing number of erratic cyclists, scooters, bendy buses, the Smart car and trees.

40 Trident Missile Warheads 1990-2006

40 of Britain’s Trident Missile Warheads were found dead this morning at Faslane naval base in Scotland. Police believe they took their own lives before receiving a death sentence this afternoon from Prime Minister Tony Blair as he announces the white paper on replacing Britain’s nuclear deterrent.

The Trident Missile Warheads were born in 1990. Despite massive public interest in the infant warheads, they were kept from the public gaze by their reclusive parents, British Nuclear Fuels and the Ministry of Defence in a PR coup said to have inspired Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes.

Acutely aware of the threat the warheads posed to peace, the British government spent billions of pounds of taxpayers’ money on a secure underground silo near Loch Lomond for the warheads. They were allowed out on educational trips across the Atlantic, but only under armed guard aboard Vanguard class submarines.

Ever under the vigilant gaze of their attendants, the young warheads quickly became frustrated at not being allowed to roam unhindered or to achieve their optimum speed of 12,000 mph ... despite repeated requests to the Royal Navy from Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond and James May, not to mention some of the tabloids' more bellicose feature writers. Eventually the Warhead's frustration turned to anger and they began to spend much of their time with the Vanguards muttering “what you looking at?” to Russian subs, Argentinean fishing smacks and amorous whales.

With the collapse of the Soviet threat in the 90s, many started to feel that Britain no longer needed an expensive nuclear deterrent, and anyway, that job was done far more cheaply by allowing Sellafield to keep leaking radioactive isotopes into the Irish Sea. With calls for decommissioning growing, the Trident Missile Warheads became increasingly withdrawn. Depression sank in as they realised that, despite their ability to make the sky light up brighter than a thousand suns, they would spend the rest of their lives in darkness.

The warheads will be buried in a lead-lined casket at a top secret service attended by close friends and family including George Bush, Tony Blair and Dr Strangelove.

They are survived by Russian, American, North Korean, Israeli, Indian, Pakistani and Iranian warheads, and hundreds of little warheads back at Faslane asking "When's Daddy coming home?"

More Winning Ways

The members of the As A Dodo team are delighted to announce further success at The Best Satire Awards, after scooping November's awards for Best New Site, Best Headline (Bono's Integrity 1960-2006) and Best Political Satire (The Eighth Amendment to the United States Constitution 1789-2006).

We are even happier to announce that As A Dodo is up for Best New Site of 2006, Best Headline of 2006 and Best Celebrity Satire of 2006. As ever we would humbly beseech our readers to vote for us, vote for us early and vote for us often by clicking on the appropriate links. Many thanks for all your ballot stuffing work.

Those Who Knew Them: Milton Friedman 1912-2006

We at www.asadodo.com wish to apologise for the tardiness of this tribute to Nobel-winning economist, Milton Friedman, who died last week. Unfortunately Geraint Swann, the economist we contacted with a view to producing an obituary, was engaged in a series of television appearances and unable to deliver his comments until today.

"Why was Milton Friedman famous?", you may ask. It's a very good question. After all, he didn't appear on television very often. He certainly didn't host any top-rated, vaguely business-related programmes on BBC2. And he didn't look good in a school-marmish way on Newsnight. So what was the point of him? Well, he was deeply involved in the development of two of the most vital items in the economic toolkit today. The first, the spanner or monkey wrench in the toolkit, if you will - the item with which governments were to grab their economies by the nuts and twist - was monetarism. The second - the screwdriver with which the layperson can probe deep into the economic toaster in the hope of loosening some crumbs of knowledge - was the oversimplistic analogy.

So what is monetarism? Well, let me make an oversimplistic analogy. Imagine the economy is like a balloon and the money supply is like the air inside it. Monetary theory says that if you keep blowing into the balloon then it will keep inflating and ultimately burst. Now you may be thinking, "But surely the economy is nothing at all like a balloon, surely its like lots of people exchanging goods and services both here and abroad", and you'd be right. But that has never stopped an economist. Milton's great genius was to flog his balloon theory to political leaders and right-wing dictators across the globe. The fact that the price was massive unemployment and the destruction of industry didn't matter at all. For economists it's the theory that matters, not the practice, and Milton was one of the greatest economists of all.

These days, of course, monetarism - like Milton - is seen as a bit old-fashioned. Instead of Professor Friedman's strict prescriptions, most economists reckon that to run things properly you need a bit of monetary control and a bit of Keynesian pump-priming but most of all the ability to be on your horse and out of town before anyone realises just how badly you've cocked everything up.

The As A Dodo team add: Milton Friedman died on 16 November 2006. It is understood that his brain decided that the blood supply (B₀)to his body was resulting in undesirable and necessary economic effects such as walking around and breathing. Accordingly steps were taken to reduce B₀. The success of this programme was obvious, the incidental failure of several vital organs and total loss of life being simply the proper effects of the invisible hand of the market and a sacrifice necessary for the proper functioning of the bodily system as a whole.

A memorial service for Milton Friedman will be held by the society of British TV economists in the Dragon's Den Studios on Tuesday. In memory of the great man, lunch will not be free.