Story No: 21
George was away in the UK so I was treating myself to a lie-in when the dog-and-bone rang in my kennel. It had to be George. He was the only one who knew the number.
‘Hi Barney’ he said ‘sorry to bark at you so early in the morning’
George had cracked that funny at least a dozen times previously and still thought it was hilarious.
Actually the call was useful because it reminded me I still hadn’t developed a cunning plan to send my phone number to that bitch at the Clinton’s
‘I’m having trouble over here with Tony Blair and his gang’ said George ‘and I need a bit of advice’
I was very proud of my iron self-control. I resisted the temptation to say ‘I told you so’ and ‘you should never have got involved with that Labor bunch of limeys in the first place’
‘They’re doing a bit of backsliding on Iraq’ George went on ‘Tony’s getting depressed about the whole thing, the British public’s on his clacker and one of his ministers, Gordon Brown, is trying to bully me. What should I do?’
‘I think you should take a deep breath’ I said ‘and go and get tickets for the Arsenal versus Manchester United game’
The Gordon Brown thing surprised me. I had only encountered him once and as he was a Scot and a bit of a terrier like me I was inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. But trying to bully George was simply not to be tolerated.
‘First of all George’ I said ‘tell Gordon Brown that if he doesn’t stop behaving like Mel Gibson in Braveheart the CIA will get Mossad to steal his passport and arrange for it to be found in a pair of Scottish y-fronts at the scene of a wild sex party for Latvian cross-dressers’
‘Then tell Tony Blair to stop listening to his wife and the union movement and send all those Pakistani clerics back home. Make him understand if he doesn’t pull his finger out the UK will soon overtake Afghanistan as the centre of world terrorism.
‘Is that all?’ asked George
‘That’s not half of it’ I said ‘then go and see the Queen and tell her to summon Tony and give him the biggest bollocking of his life and inject some British Bulldog Spirit into him. Scottish terriers understand all about that’
‘Ok thanks Barney’ said George
‘Hold on George’ I said ‘then take Tony out to dinner and get him absolutely hammered on the sauce. Next get the CIA to pick him up, take him to a massage parlour and get some really sordid photos. Finally they should write to him enclosing the photos and threatening to send a copy of everything to the Mirror if he doesn’t deliver on Iraq. Welcome to the world of high-powered international diplomacy’
‘I’m shocked’ said George ‘there can’t be anything else’
‘Oh yes’ I said ‘please pass on my regards to the Queen’s corgis while you’re at the Palace. We exchange emails about the privations of being owned by Heads of State’
‘There can’t be more’ said George
‘And most important of all’ I said ‘make sure that Arsenal wins. Goodbye George’
