Jack Takes The Peace

Salaam Constituent Effendis!

I am writing to you this week from afar – the vibrant streets of Sahiwal in Pakistan, Rochdale’s twin city! I am on an official government business, acting as an envoy. You could say I’m the envoy of the world! If you wanted to. This little trip has nothing to do with getting out of the expenses fiddling firing line at home. All of my fiddling is done above board and in the public eye. I’ve got the receipts and bathplugs to prove it! I like to think that I am more like Pope Ratzinger, spreading a message of peace to the world. Most places that I go, people tell me that I am talking peace. There is a small problem that I may have jumped from the frying pan into the large curry-cooking receptacle, with a little bit of a war stirring up here, but the firing line is at least safe from those pestering press people. This is a diplomatic mission after all, and I am showing to my constituents that I am dedicated to making the world a safer place, and I’m not just off on a jolly or anything to wait for the heat to die down at home. No way!

I have spent time amongst the people, learning about their fine traditions and customs. I’ve met the Mayor of Sahiwal, who is a big fan of the Rochdale Asbestos Memorial, and has a large array of asbesdos memorabilia himself. I tried to tell him that the memorial wasn’t a tribute to asbesdos itself, but to the people who have died from it, but I think something was lost in translation. Still, he seemed happy, so who am I to judge?

One of the tasks appointed to me by the British Consul was to find out if there was any oil in the area, so during my appearance on Sun Rise FM Radio in the city, I asked listeners to let me know about the sort of exciting goods that their fine town produced. We in Rochdale have a fine manufacturing tradition too. In fact, some of our best cotton goods were imported from sweatshops here. Now the economy isn’t doing quite so well I am thinking that maybe some kind of a Sweatshop Exchange Scheme might not be in order, but I will have to see how that sits with the other local councillors at our next session.

I heard one local tale of a Christian woman who had been abducted by masked Muslim gunmen in a bid to “convert” her. I hadn’t come here to start an international incident, so I could not really get involved, but I gave them my assurances that I would bring this case to the attention of the British people, so this is what I am doing now.

Tensions are somewhat strained between the government and the religious extremists The Taliban at the moment. They are trying to impose clampdown restrictions on liberal excesses and decadent Western influences, such as long haircuts, music and broadcast media. In effect, The Taliban wants a Telly Ban. The Pakistani Army is fighting back with all of its might, but there are civilians getting caught in the crossfire, and it seems to be developing into rather a delicate situation. Part of me is thinking that my party sent me out here to get embroiled in this situation, but I cannot believe that to be the case. I will do my best to secure a ceasefire, but the only white, flag-like item of clothing that I have available is my underwear, and I haven’t washed those for several days. Also, with all of the fighting quite nearby, they aren’t in a very fit state for purpose.

There’s also a bit of bother over in Burma at the mo. Why can’t people stop mithering each other, that’s what I want to know? The opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi is currently languishing in prison after a Vietnam vet visited her after swimming across a lake to get to her house, where she was under house arrest. This is a serious crime in Burma, apparently. I’m sure that the authorities there have their reasons, and enough upstart monks to be dealing with as it is, but this sort of treatment is a little unsettling, even for me.

I do somewhat miss the cheery gargoyles at Town Hall (and I’m not talking about my opposition colleague Stephanie Turnpike! Although I do hear that she likes to spend time attached to the sides of buildings! Sha has a face like granite most of the time too!). I intend to be back home by Saturday, when all of this expenses brouhaha should have died down, and I can join my European friends for a Eurovision Fiesta, all taking place at the Toad Preservation Society Hall! It struck me as slightly intriguing that two of Rochdale’s finest musical outfits both have reptilian titles – The Chameleons and The Mock Turtles! In a way, I can see myself as being a bit like a reptile. I am versatile, being able to breathe on the safe land of public opinion and in the waters of politics. I also have webbed feet. Perhaps I should not need to share that with you, but I am not ashamed about my condition. It helps down at the Swimming Baths! Well, it did before we closed them to save money so I could get my personal pool filtered, anyway. It’s all above (diving) board, I have the receipts to prove it.

In a bid to create harmony across the world, I have written a new song to help unite the nations, that I hope to sing at my Eurovision Extravaganza event. It goes a little bit like this:

Oh we all have friends in Pakistan
Even though they may be extremists in The Taliban
And we all have friends over in IranNow that journalist’s been released we can roll out our next war*ahem* peace plan

We all know not to mess with Joanna Lumley and The Gurkhas
Or The Taliban and their wives in bhurkas
We have no British jobs for British workers
But let’s be considerate to expenses shirkers

Don’t go jerkin’
With my gherkin
(The large, oddly-shaped building I mean,
Not anything obscene!)

I think it could very well land me the top spot! Dix Poi!

At least I don’t have to worry about swine flu out here. Phew! I hope that’s not too undiplomatic of me to say so. I could really do with a drink too.

Last thing before I toddle off, I hear that there’s a bit of trouble up at Hubble, the Space Telescope. If the expenses furore doesn’t die down at home soon I may have to take a little trip up there too! It should be out of this world, and give me a nice view of things from afar! Perhaps I could wire it up to Jacqui Smith’s GCHQ surveillance system while I’m up there? I’m sure NASA wouldn’t mind, they seem like accommodating chaps, really. It’s ok for us to spy on you citizens, but we’d prefer it if you didn’t intrude on our privacy quite so much – have you seen the terrible outcomes that occur? Obviously what you’re doing is in the public interest, whereas our activities are completely sound and safe, decent and honest. Trust us. Tata!

Obama, Where Art Thou?

Even though he’s been inaugurated as President of one of the most powerful countries on our humble little planet known as ‘Earth’, people still don’t appear to know that much about Barack Barry Hussein Obama II. Let me rap with you a while and tell you more. In West Indonesia born and raised (well, he was born in Hawaii to a mother from Kansas and a father from Kenya, then he moved to Indonesia when his ma divorced and went there with his ma’s new husband, so he was raised there), in Jakarta was where he spent most of his days, chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool and all that. Then he moved to Honolulu to live with his grandparents and had a life of excess and frivolity, possibly because a couple of guys who were up to no good started causing trouble in his original neighbourhood, but that is merely rumour and hushed speculation. He then went to study at Columbia University in New York, helped out in a church group in Chicago, and studied law at Harvard. If anything he could say that this student was rare, but he said, “Nah forget it, yo homes to the Senate Chair!” He pulled up to the Whitehouse about seven or eight years later and yelled to the FBI “Yo, homes smell you later”, looked at his kingdom he was finally there to sit on his throne as the President of America.

I expect there to be an engaging series of ensuing antics involving his comical posh butler Geoffrey being slightly sardonic about Barack’s wayward, yet essentially endearing behaviour, some wacky dancing from his cousin Carlton, various spats and disputes with his cousins, but watch out for Uncle Phil! He’s a big man and will give you a nasty frown if you step out of line! Don’t invite your old homies from the ghetto like Jazzy Jeff round either or they will be kicked out on the doorstep. Black power is about taking on white respectability. Only with more rhythm.

High Five In The White House!

So poor old George is gone. Let us pay our respects to that grand and noble man. What a hero he was, leading our troops to victory in Iraq against the pernicious terror network of Al Quaida, who weren’t even there until he showed up, and strangely resembled the Iraqi army that he unusually disbanded instead of employing and harnessing. Strange that… He also decided to fight the Taliban in Afghanistan, because they harboured the most wanted terrorist in the world, Osama bin Laden, who is still at large, and not because they harboured a great big oil pipeline that he had his eye on. He truly was the foe of terrorism and pretzels the world over. Ex President Bush will also be remembered for his tender diplomatic policies, his steady measures for economic stability, and his barely coherent sentences (apart from the ones he approved on Death Row that is!). How we all survived through his period in office is a minor modern miracle. Even Al Quaida must have sent hushed whispers around saying, “God, we’d better lay low while this nutter’s in charge!”

Now entering the scene stage left comes our brand new cipher for political change President Obama. He is a black man, if you had not noticed. Can you imagine what sort of policies he will introduce? An increase in jerk chicken subsidies and reggae-based public spectacles, no doubt. As hippitty hop musician Jah Rule said, “Rosa Parks sat so Martin Luther could walk, Martin Luther walked so Barack Obama could run.” I assume he means “run for President”, not “away from the police and white power groups”, although I could be wrong. It has been known before, and possibly will be again.

I’m sure that The White House will be buzzing with Obama’s family moving in. Will he get his dog, as he promised? I wonder what sort it will be? An Afghan Hound, maybe?

The evacuation of Iraq (well, the troops, anyway) is already underway and he has already made moves to close Guantanamo Bay. His inaugural speech was very quiet on the subject of the bloodshed in Gaza, leading some to speculate that he does not recognise the atrocities that happened there. This is understandable, but could not be any further from the truth. He has been busy, and had a lot of plans to make in the past few months since he was elected. He has to keep his eye on the actions of the most volatile regime in the Middle East, that of the undemocratically elected Iran. Do you really trust an extremist Iranian government with uranium? That would be insanium! I’m sure Hilary Clinton will be tactical with her foreign diplomacy, if not with her missiles. And if she fails, at least George Michael is there to smooth things over, perhaps with a careless whisper, who knows?

While all this frenetic activity has been going on, our own government have tried to suppress the release of politicians expenses under the Freedom of Information Act, but unfortunately, some sneaky snooping civil rights campaigners were still paying attention, and our beloved Gordon and his cohorts had to do an embarrassing backpedal! Fortunately most of the major press outlets haven’t published this story, so not many people know about it. Phew!

Haven’t we spread enough apathy to keep you all disinterested in our work as it is? I’m slightly concerned that Obama is a bad influence and may start getting people interested and involved in politics again. This can only spell doom and gloom for the economy, and more importantly, my bank balance.

People may have also noticed that statistics have been released that state that knife crime has increased by 18%, which is strange since in December Jacqui Smith claimed that knife crime had decreased, as we also reported, perhaps slightly overstating the figures. Whoops, naughty Councillor Brody! Slap my wrist and send me on my way. Don’t stab me! I’m too pretty!