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OK I know this is a cheap shot, I know it is personally insulting to certain easily identifiable characters, OK it is not serious politics, but it did make me laugh and it will make you laugh too - if you are not an 'up-tight' Government supporter that is.... I found it on the AARSE website.....
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On Election Day 2010, Cyclops committed suicide, surrounded by his ever-faithful storm troopers, Jacquie Schmidt, Jack Stroh, Peter Mendelsohn, and his food tester-in-chief, Johann Prescott. It was the final humiliating chapter in the life of a man once revered by millions.
THE END
At one time, Cyclops was the most powerful individual in his own fantasy world. Yet he ended his life cowering in the Labour Party HQ, surrounded by Conservative shock troops and raging against those he believed had betrayed him. His last days were a humiliating final chapter in the life of a man once revered in his imagination by millions. But they were also the last days of a man who had been mentally and physically unravelling for months.
A SICK MAN
By April 2009, Cyclop's health was deteriorating fast. His left arm often shook, his skin was sallow, his mouth contorted and his face was puffy. A rugby incident in 1964 had damaged his eye, leaving him with a permanent and lifeless stare. Witnesses reported that his eyes were often filmed over. He suffered from intense mouth movement at moments of crisis. He was taking Benzedrine and cocaine-laced eye drops to get him through the credit crunch and barbiturates to help him sleep at night. His diet cannot have helped his situation. A committed vegetarian, and paranoid about being poisoned, he was only eating porridge, tatties and neeps by the end.
BUNKER MENTALITY
Despite the hopeless situation he was now in, visitors to the Labour HQ bunker were amazed that Cyclops was still able to work himself up into a megalomaniacal frenzy in which Labour would be saved and the Utopian dream fulfilled. While in one of these moods, Cyclops would pore over budget statements, moving gold miniature bullion bars (those remaining from the great sell-off that is) to represent imaginary national wealth.. In truth, the finances he imagined himself to be directing were broken remnants. What was left of the banking system was defended by old civil servants and New Deal teenagers hurriedly conscripted from the Labour Youth Camps (also known as sink comprehensives).
WHAT THE BUTLER SAW
Cyclop's valet, Walter Scheisshaus, stayed with his leader until the end. In a series of interviews given to his Tory captors, Scheisshaus shed light on the complex and bizarre personality of the man he worked for. Apparently, Cyclops was terrified that his policies would be ridiculed by Cameron's men. "You must never allow my budget statements to fall into the hands of the Tories," Scheisshaus reported Cyclops as saying. "They would make a spectacle in Edinburgh out of my policy, and put it on show in the once-proud Royal Bank of Scotland (and now reduced to a tourist attraction)."
FUNERAL PYRE
Cyclop's aides acted swiftly to carry out his wishes once he and his policies had committed the final act. Aides carried the couple to the Palace of Westminster where they were laid side-by-side. Earlier in the day, Cyclop's adjutant, Peter Mendelsohn, had ordered 200 gallons of environmentally-friendly quick lime to be sent to the garden. In the end, with the Conservatives tightening their ring around Westminster, only 180 gallons could be found. It was enough. The mourners didn't linger long beside the fast-deteriorating corpses. A new Tory offensive began, forcing the group to put into train their exit strategies, after giving their leader a swift 'Heil Cyclops' and a rendition of 'Beautiful Day', the Labour anthem that promised so much back in the summer of '97.
AFTER CYCLOPS
Shattered after 13 years of conflict, the Fuhrer's inner circle, fled for their lives. Jacqui Schmidt returned to her native Worcestershire where she, building on her experience of claiming expenses from the public purse, turned to benefit fraud, whilst working as a part-time drag artiste. Johann Prescott retired to his secret hideaway in Hull where he continued to single-handedly support the local pie industry. And his loyal adjutant, Peter, fled to South America, where he set up a male-only bordello with Lady R, using the proceeds of his state-funded mortgage, whilst planning the inevitable emergence of the 4th Reich.
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It deserves a wider readership....
