By Nathaniel Greene-Just how difficult is it to run a country?
In part one we looked at the sort of people running Britain and realised that you don't need to be bright, clever or hard working to run a country if our current bunch of leaders are anything to go by.
Now we will turn to a fantasy projection to explain the appalling difficulties our leaders have to deal with through their alcoholic haze from boozing and partying the night before...
"Dave! Dave! It's some bloke on the phone for you!"
"Just a minute darling."
"Dave here, who's that?"
"Bad news old chap," clears throat, "got some good news and some bad."
"Well let's have the bad first!"
"Erm Aunty Doris has died."
"That's the bad news?"
Dave's eyes widen as he begins to salivate. My inheritance at last!
"Yes that's the bad," uncle Hector hesitates.
"And the good is that she has left everything to you..."
Dave dances a jig of exultation around the hall. Sam rushes out to see what the palaver is all about.
"We're rich, we're rich darling! Aunty Doris has just kicked the bucket and left everything to us!"
A few days later in leafy Hampshire Dave, Sam and all the little Daves and little Sams arrive at Great Britain Hall in their clapped out Ford Anglia to survey their new abode.
Uncle Hector is waiting for them, and while Sam and all the little Daves and little Sams rush off to chase the peacocks and dive into the heated swimming pool with Scruff the family dog, Hector takes a wide eyed Dave by the arm and steers him into the front hall, where the staff are lined up to meet their new master.
"Er hum," says Uncle Hector, "this is Margaret the house keeper and this is Mavis the cook..."
Dave nods and smiles and shakes hands and says "Nice to meet you" or "How do you do!"
"...and this is George the gardener and here,"
Hector hesitates, "here is Horace the rat catcher..." looking down at a snarling Yorkshire Terrier that clearly thinks Dave is more rat than master. Of course Horace could be correct but for the sake of this story it doesn't matter.
Hector steers Dave into the library towards the windows, where they stand and watch Scruff the dog leaping in and out of the heated swimming pool being chased by all the little Daves and little Sams, while an exasperated Sam looks on in despair.
"Yes well," says Hector, "perhaps the novelty will pale after a while." Scruff starts to dig up the ornamental rose garden and all the little Daves and all the little Sams start throwing rose bushes at each other.
"Don't suppose you have ever thought of training that dog?"
Dave smiles to himself thinking of the artificial ski slope he intends to build where that revolting rose garden is.
Then a giant Jacuzzi by the croquet lawn and an open air karaoke venue on the lawn itself.
Hector brings Dave back to earth.
"You see Aunty Doris has left you everything and everyone so all you have to do is carry on as if she was still here and the place will run itself."
Hector looks across the finely manicured lawns at the smoking Ford Anglia wondering how any self respecting man could drive such a heap of junk. No accounting for taste. Perhaps Horace the rat catcher saw something I didn't!
"At the weekend the garden is opened to the public and we do afternoon tea." Hector shuffles his feet. "On Monday the village croquet club comes to play on the croquet lawns.
Tuesday the village football team practices..."
Dave hears all this drivel but drifts off again into his fantasy world. Once I get my hands on all that cash I can go skiing in Davos or have lunch with Angela Merkel in Bonn or go and visit my old buddy Mugabe in that African hell hole he lives in, he muses.
"...there's only one problem my boy", Hector hesitates, "er there's no money left in the bank."
Dave's mind leaps at the sound of banks and money.
"That's wonderful. Doris's money will be safe in my hands old boy!"
Hector realises Dave hasn't been listening. "No Dave you haven't been listening. I said there's no money left in the bank.
Doris Brown has spent every penny and has, infact, borrowed so much that if you don't watch it the bank will take Great Britain Hall off your hands and you will have nothing left at all.
You are so deep in debt thanks to Aunty Doris Brown that sometimes you will wonder where your next breakfast is coming from.
"But if you keep doing afternoon teas at the weekend and all the other stuff, you might just get by.
That means no more foreign aid parties, no more foreign war parties and no more EU parties’ old chap. Got to cut your clothes according to your cloth.
"No more shilly shallying around with your banking scams, no more renegotiating deals with your dubious EU friends, no more silly marrying games with gay friends.
"You see Dave, you have to work at what is important now. Somehow or another you have to get Great Britain Hall back on its feet. The place will run itself providing you are polite to the staff, pay their wages on time and watch your pennies. Saying good morning and handing out pay packets is fifteen minutes a week.
"But if you squander everything on your shady African friends, dilly and dally with Angela in Bonn or fiddle around with your gay friends setting up silly marriage scams then you will have to lay off staff, sell off the family silver and, well, possibly have to give Great Britain Hall to some nasty banker because you have betrayed all the people in Great Britain Hall who were relying on you."
Hector looks at Dave and wonders whether Horace was right.
Maybe Dave is more rat than man!
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