house of windsor phone call…

Phone rings.

“Hello, Tony Blair speaking.”

“Yeah, Tony, Liz. How you doing?”

“Your majesty, what a pleasant surprise. How can I help you?”

“Always to the point, aren’t you? Look, I’m nearly 80 years old. Couldn’t you at least pretend to talk about the weather?”

“I’m sorry Ma’am, hasn’t the weather been vile lately?”

“Who cares about the weather, Tony, we’re most worried about your playmate, that George boy, you know, the american.”

“George Bush?”

“Yes, that’s him. We’ve heard he’s planning on denying planning on nuking the Iranians who’re planning on nuking the Americans planning on planning.”

“Ah, ma’am, I believe there’s no truth in that plan.”

“Which plan? Listen, Tony, no matter how you slice it and dice it – or nuke it, it’s a crap plan. I’m an old lady, but listen, Tony, I got kids, you know, they got kids, we all got kids. God knows even the Iranians got kids. We don’t want glow-in-the-dark kids with no nads, you know what I mean?”

“I think I know, your majesty.”

“No, Tony, you don’t know. All we want out of life is a gin and tonic and a cigarette sitting inside. Keep it simple, Tony, you know what I mean. That Bush kid, he’s bad for your rep. You nuke those Iranians – they got nothing – 5,000 years of persian history, sand and oil. Tony, listen, they got toys now. They got religion, you know what it’s like when you play with those church-y kids down the road. If this goes bad, Tony, it’s not going to be who’s right. It’s gonna be who’s left. You know what I mean? And who wants to be left to live in a glow-in-the-dark box full of kitty litter? I got real estate, Tony, I got kids. Grandkids. Responsibilities.”

“Um, me too.”

‘Listen Tony, why don’t you call in on the way home. Have a gin with me.”

“Sure, why not?”

“Be a good boy, Tony, pick me up some tonic at Tesco on the way…”

 

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