Viewing all items for tag Bush

The Boy From Mars

I was dreaming last night that I was travelling across America in a flying saucer.

I was taking a break in a bar in the middle of nowhere when Heather Locklear wandered in and headed straight towards me. She looked tired and was obviously quite drunk. ‘Hey, you’re the Boy From Mars, aren’t you? Can you lend me twenty dollars and fifty cents? I’ve got to drive for miles to get to see my lover OJ Simpson before they send him to hell.’

‘Is it really important to you?’ I asked.

‘Well, he’s offered to instruct me in getting away with murder.’

I laughed.

‘It’s not funny, Mars-Boy,’ she hissed. ‘You might think OJ ridiculous but abstract evil does not choose the form in which it emerges in the particular.’ (I think she was secretly plagiarising something she had read about Hitler and the Nazis.)

‘Anyway, what’s the fifty cents for?’ I asked.

‘Oh, that’s to buy lipstick for my pig.’ With that, she fell over and was carried outside by a priest who put her in an ambulance and drove her away.

Chuckling to myself, I finished my breakfast of grits and coffee before getting in my spaceship to continue my journey.

Later, as I was going through Hollywood, I turned on the radio for company; Harry Shearer was singing: ‘President Bush is a moron; we’re all doomed.’ It was a good song.

I got up this morning about seven-thirty feeling very refreshed and was able to write down the exact details of my dream with the mental precision I always have on first waking.

Camp David

Gordon Brown didn’t quite tick the ‘George Bush is my best friend’ box when he met the US president yesterday. But it seems that we can all rest easy that the relationship between the two leaders is a strong and mutually respectful one.

In my opinion, the biggest issue is one of trust. How much can each of the two men ultimately rely on the other’s support in the years ahead – well, the next 18 months, anyway?

It appears that nothing much has changed in the USA/UK axis-of-harmony since Blair’s departure, and neither, I suspect, was it expected to. And don’t be side-tracked by the apparent change in rhetoric; the message is essentially the same: We’re with you all the way, Mr President.
(What the hell are you talking about? – Politics Ed.)

What I want to know is: where was Camp David? I often watch items on the news such as the recent meeting between GB and GB in the hope of catching a quick glimpse of this infamous character. Alas, I have never spotted him.

Who is Camp David and what is he like? How did he earn his colourful soubriquet? Does he march limp-wristedly around the White House in tight clothing serving fruity cocktails to important guests? I would dearly love to know. I bet he drinks Guinness.

Saturday Gas

I had to bundle the man from Transco out of the door – quite roughly – to prevent him from turning off my gas supply this morning.

I awoke to the sour odour of a gaseous leak that was drifting from the kitchen. As it turns out, it was merely a loose connection on the intake pipe that lies quietly in the dust and cobwebs behind my ancient cooker. It only needed a quick, firm twist with my favourite adjustable spanner and – voila! …the connection was retightened and the leak sealed.

That didn’t satisfy the Gorky-moustachioed Mr Transco and his keen intentions, however. Using all his Transco powers – including his little, beady pig-eyes (he resembled George Bush in a strange way), his rancid halitosis and his extravagant body odour – he tried for a full minute or more to reach the meter under the stairs. He was desperate to disconnect my supply. Bodily struggling with him, he was hissing over and over: ‘It’s the law, it’s my job, it’s my sworn bloody duty to King and Country – ‘

I thought that he wanted to dance with me because he wouldn’t let go, but neither would I. During our odd embrace, I was slightly disorientated. I noticed that he had an obvious physical deformity: one of his arms was perceptibly shorter than the other. This is nothing to be ashamed of; we all have at least one arm shorter than the other, don’t we.

My observation didn’t stop me from swinging him around (he was quite small) and eventually pushing him out of the door. Sitting in his little van, he revved his engine and then sped off. I’m sure he’ll report me to some special authority or other. Idiot.

Bush vs Words 2

“Free societies are hopeful societies. And free societies will be allies against these hateful few who have no conscience, who kill at the whim of a hat.” —Washington, D.C., Sept. 17, 2004

“The problem with the French is that they don’t have a word for entrepreneur.” —George W. Bush discussing the decline of the French economy with British Prime Minister Tony Blair

And here’s a quote from dimwit Jade Goody of Big Brother fame – I just couldn’t resist: “They were trying to use me as an escape goat.”

Brilliant! She’s gonna get her own category, methinks. Jadeisms. He he – watch out, Dubya, there’s a new kid on the block!