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A Letter From Chancellor Exchequer


You were darned right about my office for budgetary responsibility.  Those bounders at OBR agreed with you that their stuffy old way of assessing whether or not my (sorry – the UK) economy was lumbering into a triple dip recession did not properly connect with the (great unwashed) proletariat and the smart holistic way was to measure numbers at Radlettparties.  I had to fend off a few impertinent questions arranging the live link from your drive camera to the treasury office – that Vince Cable can be a stiff old trout sometimes!  Danny Alexander’s missus was a deal more compliant about us sneaking away on the Saturday night than Mrs. O but i promised her she would not have to play footsie at the mansion house dinner with that oversexed Bozzer this year and that did the trick.  I can tell you dickie the team at the treasury opened a crate of the amber nectar with a great deal of apprehension as we turned on the live link to your drive to see whether my economy had REALLY avoided the dreaded threesome – i mean triple dip recession.


Having been caught on global tv shedding a tear for our dear departed gruppenfuhrer iron lady last week i was badly in need of some good cheer and by george (get the pun) the team at Radlettparties certainly delivered that!  As the cars could be seen backing up that famous Theobald Street we could sense that history was in the making.  It was better than watching a conservative candidate take Alex Salmond’s seat in a by-election.  I can tell you a humble minister’s salary doesn’t stretch some of the magnificent steeds queuing up for whatever goes on in that big yellow house of yours.  We all thought the bright red Maserati was a nice touch.  We’ll keep the number plate from Cleggy – you know how he likes to run checks on any personal wealth that rivals his own £20m pile in cloisters.


I now know how president Obama felt in the white house ops room as the Osama raid unfolded.  The team’s cheers got ever louder as your attendees crept closer to the magic ton.  You could probably hear the cheers from Radlett as you passed the symbolic 100.  I was reminded of Michael Portillo’s ‘sordid little experiment at charterhouse’ when Danny Alexander jumped over and gave me a big wet kiss.  I still wonder where he learned to do a jig like that – charterhouse perhaps.  I got straight onto the pm to share the good news.  Sam took the call and sounded bored by the snoring in the background.  She perked up when she heard that Radlettparties had officially endorsed that the recession is over.  Numbers are back to pre-recession levels.  God is in his heaven and my job is safe.  Thank you Radlettparties for again altering the course of history.  I’m off to sleep it off on the couch – Mrs O would never believe the stink of drink was the result of me putting the country’s economic wellbeing first.  Keep up the good work team and please report to me any of ‘the party opposite’ that attend – ideally with sufficient video footage for conservative party headquarters to work their usual magic on their smear campaigns.  It’s about time we got our own back for the dreadful way that nice Mr and Mrs Hamilton were treated for their mischievous little dalliances.


Ever yours, George


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