David Cameron's Diary

Dear Diary,

I’m still in my Vampire costume as I write this, soaked in that £25,000 bottle of wine that George was spraying us with.

He used up a whole case of it. Showing off.

He is an idiot, even though he is Chancellor of the Exchequer.

Like that Hungarian ass who was trying to do a line of cocaine on an open double-decker bus. Of course it kept blowing away, but he kept trying, saying “I can afford it!” Now he’s saying I fucked up relations with the EU! Or was it the Polish ass who said it. I’m so sozzled I can’t tell!

But to get back to George. He really is an idiot. Can you believe he bought a staffer to a strictly Bullers Only party, and a foreigner by the sound of him. Chabra or something.

Did you forget the rules, George? I said to him when he appeared with Chabra in tow at the door of Number 10.

No, but he’s writing a book about me, so he needs to know that I’m not just a policy wonk. Also, I needed someone to carry the wine, George said, leaving me aghast.

Wine wasn’t all Chabra was carrying. After a while, when we were in the middle of the “Vee vant Blood!” soft-shoe number, I saw him surreptitiously clicking away with his i-phone.

I sidled up under Boris to tell him what was happening. Boris was swinging from the chandelier and came crashing down when he realized what I was saying.

He dusted off the glass from his hair and said not to worry. He was quite drunk, but then he almost always is, so that’s neither here nor there.

I have powers as Mayor, he said. I’ll see our foreign friend loses his phone before he can do any damage. Give me a moment to call Scotland Yard.

That made me think of another bit of shit George got me into. Andy Coulson. The phone hacker at the News of the World. It was George who got me to give him a job as my Communications Director.

Why did you do that! I screamed at him when Coulson’s shit hit the fan.

Well I was just returning a favour, George said, quite unfazed. Andy put a lid on that story about me doing cocaine with Natalie Rowe, so I know he’s got his heart in the right place.

That reminded me William had said something kind about Coulson too. He was helpful in putting a lid on that story about William spending nights at a hotel “occasionally” with one of his male staffers.

And that in turn reminded me how Tony’s rumored affair with the Chinese Murdoch also had a lid put on it. Although it didn’t stay on for long, for Rupert found out and dumped the woman. He wasn’t going to keep her after he found out. Even if the other man was a former British PM!

Perhaps Andy was pretty effective after all. Although he never did anything about that cartoonist fellow who always draws me with a condom on my head. Well, I guess we can’t win every time. Maybe I can get him a Queen’s pardon.

I was just getting back in the swing of the “Vee vant blood” routine when that greasy Pole Sikorsky hove into sight and said “You really fucked up on Juncker! What were you thinking!”

I threw a champagne bottle at his head but missed. It hit one of the servers and knocked him out.

What do you mean telling the Press I fucked up, I screamed at him. Juncker’s a drunk, you know that. He has cognac for breakfast. What’s he going to do at the head of the EU?

Sikorsky grinned. Anything Angela tells him. It’s the truth. He flung a butter dish back at my head. I ducked and it bounced off a table and out of the window.

You think it’s a joke I said grimly. But if the EU doesn’t reform, we’re going to pull out!

Only the dumb fascists in Hungary believe that nonsense about reform, Sikorski said. The rest of us know you just want the EU to back off on banking regulations so you can continue laundering money.

Well, is that a bad thing, I asked him. Why do you think we’re all so rich? Where would we be without The City to launder all our organized crime money?

I’m rich honestly Sikorski said, proving just how dumb he is.

You can’t get rich honestly I said, letting my deep scorn show. Do you know how much money from international organized crime we launder? Eight to 15 per cent of world GDP, that’s how much.

Sikorski was impressed . How much is that, he asked.

About $4 trillion to $7 trillion every year, I said. You can’t make that kind of money without drinking the blood of millions of people. Why do you think the Bullers love the “Vee vant blood” routine? It’s what we do. What we’ve done for five hundred years. African blood, Arab blood. Indian blood. American blood. We drink it all. That's why the Vampire is our cultural creation, why the "License to Kill" is our national fantasy.

American blood? Sikorsky was intrigued.

Well, the Red Indians we massacred to begin with, and then all the wars the Yanks fought to save democracy! They’re like a bunch of hounds after a stuffed rabbit.

Sikorski was not convinced.

If you're making all that money, why is your Foreign Office writing to corporations to sponsor the Queen's birthday party?

We don't want the British people knowing about our black money, you idiot! If we're sticking them with all kinds of austerities do we want them to know we're making trillions on the side?

Then what exactly do you use the money for?

To run the world. Consider the ISIS take-over of Iraq. You really think 4000 of them are winning against an Iraqi army of 70,000 without our help? We’re paying off the Iraqi generals big time. Just as we greased the Taliban to power in Afghanistan. It leaves the Yanks mystified every time.

But why?

Sikorski is dumb as a post. No wonder there are so many Polish jokes.

It’s what I was saying, I explained patiently. We need war. Blood. With the developing countries rising so fast, we need to pull them down and safeguard our money laundering and drug trafficking businesses. We do that by creating conflicts all over Africa, Asia and Latin America. The Chinese are working with us. They need diversions too. War works every time. Hatred sells. Violence works! That’s the secret of our success. Always has been. That’s why Vampire parties have always been a Buller tradition.

Vee vant blood!

 

The ineffable charm of the British political elite

The Hindu had an op-ed reprint from The Guardian on 14 April headlined "The war on terror is corrupting all it touches."

The story was interesting, but it had little to support the headline, which should have read: "The British elite corrupts all it touches."

It noted "that MI6, the UK Secret Intelligence Service, rolled the pitch for Tony Blair's bizarre 2004 hug-in with Libya's Colonel Qhadhafi" by arranging for the kidnapping of the dictator's enemy in exile, Abdul Hakim Belhaj.

"He was seized in Bangkok, where he and his wife were en route to Britain" The Guardian story said. "It's been suggested they were "rendered" via the British colony of Diego Garcia to Tajoura jail in Tripoli. Belhaj spent six years and his wife four-and-a-half months at the tender mercies of Qhadhafi's security boss, Moussa Koussa. Belhaj's pregnant wife was taped like a mummy on a stretcher, and he was systematically tortured."

The "gift" of Moussa came with "a covering letter from MI6's Mark Allen, offering Koussa congratulations on 'the safe arrival' of the 'air cargo'." That "was the least we could do for you and for Libya to demonstrate the remarkable relationship we have built over the years."

The story then went on to note: "Within two weeks Qhadhafi was welcoming a fawning Blair in his famous desert tent and announcing that he would abjure terrorism and set aside his 'planned' weapons of mass destruction. The plans were spurious but the deal allowed Blair to walk tall in Washington."

The rest of the story is even more revealing about what it terms Britain's "strange relationship" with the Qhadhafi regime. "It was claimed Britain would not just deliver Belhaj but lift sanctions. Qhadhafi would welcome British Petroleum's Lord Browne, accompanied by Allen, who switched with full ministerial approval from being an MI6 officer to  a £200,000 special adviser to BP" Three years later, Allen reportedly pressed his old boss Jack Straw, "to release Libya's Lockerbie bomber." Allen was also a senior adviser to "Monitor consultancy, which helped boost Qhadhafi's world image," and he sat on the Board of the London School of Economics where one of the dictator's sons got a much publicized PhD. "The new Chairman of BP was none other than Sir Peter Sutherland, also chairman of the LSE."

Under American pressure the British government was forced to abandon its cozy friendship with Qhadhafi and take down his regime. During that process, US-based Human Rights Watch beat MI6 to the cache of secret documents left behind in Tripoli by the Qhadhafi regime, and soon the highlights of the story recounted above were reported around the world. British politicians have either denied knowledge of the matter or claimed that they cannot comment because Belhaj is suing the British government and the matter is now sub judice.

For no clear reason The Guardian tacked on a disquisition about the war on terror to the story above and gave it a completely misleading headline. The Hindu, as ever in thrall to the British world view, followed suit.

From an Indian perspective it is necessary to note the seamless relationship between BP, MI6, the LSE and senior British politicians. They are but different faces of a formidable power elite.

When Reliance Industries sells BP a hefty stake in strategically important Indian gas fields, when Cairn-Vedanta is allowed to invest heavily in sensitive border states, and an Indian company like ESSAR stands accused not only of subverting the national interest in the 2G license scam but of financing Maoists, we are not talking of "foreign investment" or "corporate policy" in any sense that economists understand.

We are talking of the British elite engaged in a game at which it has the world's best track record: cold perfidy.