Maximillian Douglas-Villiers
29 Oct 2011 1 Comment
in Maximillian Douglas-Villiers, Opinions
The Mambo has scored quite a coup in securing the services of the scourge of the proletariat, Maximillian Douglas-Villiers. He will be writing an occasional column for us, giving his own take on recent events.
Blasted nuisance, this Eurozone bailout if you ask me. Looks like the Dagos, Frogs, Huns and all the other LSD-loving flower power pinko-bohemian-nonce-Marxists in the EU have finally got their act together and saved themselves. All this rot about them having to shaft their own people to do so has caused me no end of irritation this week. One of my stablehands fancies himself as a bit of an economist and when he suggested they were papering over the cracks of the European financial system I had to take a firm hand and give him a severe thrashing. I won’t have such insolence, dash it all. They may all be Reds on the continent but the the likes of Sarkozy and Merkel are my kind of Reds. Blue ones.
I was quite looking forward to the Europeans impoverishing themselves though. All those fine young continental fillys would have had to turn to prostitution and I would have had a whale of a time on my frequent tips to Paris and Milan.
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This week the old ball and chain was off promoting her latest syrupy novel in in some godforsaken communist outpost on the West Coast of the old empire. You know, San Francisco or somewhere. I’d just finished giving one of the chambermaid’s a good seeing-to when I heard on the radio about someone else who had also been on the receiving end of a good rogering himself recently. Colonel Gaddafi. Naturally I’m as pleased as punch he’s been given the bum’s rush as I might finally be able to get my hands on some of that oil, but it could also get a bit hairy for yours truly. I was instrumental in making the bally pirate more palatable to my chums in Whitehall and Downing Street a few years ago. Remember, when he was one of us. In fact it was me who leant on the LSE to get that dashed uncouth son of his that PhD. Naturally I was amply rewarded for efforts and contribution to Anglo-Libyan relations, although I found that Ukranian nurse of Gaddafi’s a sour-faced disappointment, frankly.
I only hope no awkward questions come up in the next few months over the whole imbroglio. Necessary work no doubt, but those brutes at the NTC might not see it that way. No one reads this blog though so no danger of this confession ever coming back to haunt me, but neverthless maybe I shouldn’t be so indiscreet. Be like Liam Fox, so my valet says. And you’ll never get caught.
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Beastly northerners. Loath them all, especially the poor ones. Never been further than Watford myself, even when I was tight as an owl and out in the Rolls Royce, and I can’t say I’ve ever met one knowingly, but I hear that they are foul. And that ghastly accent. Time was when the bastards knew their place and kept their heads down. But they keep appearing everywhere on the TV and wireless. Some band from the North, the Rosing Stones I think, keep appearing everywhere. I haven’t the foggiest who they are or what they are saying but one of them, a long-haired one by the name of Brown, is a loathsome oik. He started lecturing a Daily Mail journalist about their support for Hitler. Well I have a bit of news for you Mr Brown, all of the good sort did, apart from Churchill. He just liked Franco and Mussolini.
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I consider myself a tolerant, enlightened decent sort of chap. But I am not a damned communist. It appears that our beloved Royal Family are though. Women monarchs? And blasted Fenians? The world’s gone mad. The next logical step is the blood of the bourgeoisie, upstanding fellows like me, flowing down the streets of our fair capital, blast it!
I’m glad that the Royal Family is front page news though. It’s a good distraction. The peasants are so easily fooled aren’t they. Royal gossip and that damned talent show seem to be all the toys they need to keep quiet. Bread and Circuses indeed.
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