Three wishes

Catching up with the sphere this morning after a few days' shore leave so to speak, I have become immensely depressed.

Cammo has withdrawn his cast-iron guarantee. Understandable. Pragmatic. Nevertheless depressing, especially as the professional whiners are going to be out in force until the election and beyond, keening stupid words like 'betrayal'.

Without consulting our elected representatives, Commissar Postman has given his former colleagues (and thousands of other state-employed jobsworths) legal powers to enter my home by force and help themselves to my property.

Miliblink is likely soon to be the EU's foreign affairs poncer-about, as his reward for being a nasty little hypocritical Labour arsehole with communism in his blood who hasn't the gonads to rid this country (but why should he care?) of the dangerous bastard Brown. He is being promoted to a permanently-lucrative Eurojob in which his Internationalist-Socialist instincts can be put into more practical effect, among like-minded colleagues, than Britain's constitution (on life support but still with us) permits.

As the Lefty eco-boondoggle continues its five star tour of Europe's red carpeted palaces, the western political elite has agreed to increase its payments to the international blackmailer community. Well, they can hardly refuse. Having told us that the world will die of asphyxia unless their own peasants comply with their 'carbon emissions' extortion racket, they can hardly protest when they are out-gamed by other nations just because they oppress their peoples by less subtle means than those of our own dear leaders. I daresay all the cheque recipients will make short diversions to their offshore bankers on their way home.

So, three wishes, then, to cheer myself up and help me summon the energy to carry on fighting the good fight.

1. That I live long enough to see the ecowankers -- lying politicians, compilers of false data and bought-and-paid-for prophets of doom -- being led in procession to the stocks by L Ron Gore and the Stern Doctor, there to shiver in thin, scratchy sackcloth shifts as the heavy snow settles on heads blackened by the ashes of their criminally dishonest, baseless reports.

2 That I live long enough to see the European Union crack straight down the middle and the unemployed Brussels bureaucracy living in cardboard boxes on the streets of Prague and London, begging from scornful Eurosceptic people who spit on them as they pass by hissing, 'Get a proper job.' But no, not in our capitals. Let them sod off to Paris and Berlin.

3. That I live long enough to see the utter destruction of the devil-ship Labour Party and all who sail in her. Oh - and may Captain Brown go down with his ship to the bottom of the deepest canyon at the bottom of the deepest ocean.

Only number three has any chance of coming true. Well, partially. Still, the other two make for lovely dreams.