Tony Blairs Private Diary Page 2

PANTY ARCHIVE - OLDIES BUT GOODIES

Please note that this Diary is no longer being updated!

Sadly, this dairy is no longer being updated due to the untimely demise of the author, Marc Kingston. Marc suffered a most regretable mishap in late October 2004 whilst out rambling late at night in an isolated wood with a lady friend. His nude body was discovered by a man walking his pet Gerbil several days later with two electrodes attached to his groin, a large banana inserted into his rectum and a mango stuffed into his mouth. The subsequent inquest returned a verdict of death by Miss Adventure. Sadly, Miss Adventure has since vanished without trace. Mr Kingston left behind a wife, six children (two of whom were legitimate), a mistress and six packets of chocolate Hob Nobs.

If any plucky writers are brave enough to wish to revive this diary please contact us by clicking the 'Comments' button at the end of this article. We promise we will NOT forward your names to MI6. Well, unless you forget to include a cheque with your application.

Tony Blair's Private Diary

MONDAY 29 MARCH 2004
I had a three hour session with The FrogKing and SourKraut in Berlin this afternoon which nearly made me miss my appointment in the Freidrich Strasse with Lola Kitselbein. Sourkraut banged on and on about how our presence in Iraq was so unpopular and Chirak had the cheek to tell me we should stop shipping gunships to Israel. I told them both that in order to be granted U.S. statehood, Britain must be willing to defend American interests and support the President on issues like this. "Some of us don't want to be Americans" said Chirak. "Tough shit" I told him and spelled out the advantages of becoming another star on the U.S. flag. "As Americans, we will finally be able to bury the ignominy of being a third rate country in a second rate Common market". That really twisted the FrogKing's balls. "We will close the channel tunnel!" he shouted. "Big deal" I told him. We'll ban all French imports. See how you like it when you can't shift any cheese or posh frocks!"

When I got to the Friedrich Strasse I gave that German totty a taste of British sausage she is unlikely to forget. Then it was back to Chequers for a teleconference with Gdubya. George was livid. It took all my charm to stop him sending a hit squad to waste Hans Blix. Apparently the Swedish turnip head has been shooting his mouth off again about our failure to find Saddam's weapons of mass destruction. "Mr Brush couldn't find his own arse with both hands if you drew him a map and gave him a magnifying glass, the dumb knobhead. Suck my balls and kiss my arse, now they are both up shit creek without a paddle and I'm going to enjoy watching them squirm their way out, the arrogant wankers!"
"He said that, did he?" I asked George.
"And worse!"
"He's history", I told him. "I'll put the rottweiler onto it straightaway."

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