Tipp gets a grip

Gordon Brown? You what?!

He's only got one working eye for a start and, while he may have 20:20 hindsight, his vision of the future is certain to be somewhat wibbly. And I bet he didn't see that coming, either...

Anyway, like most career politicians, Wee Jocky's spent too much time in his Ivory Tower. Me, on the other hand, well I'm a man of the fucking people, innit.

However, before putting down in writing precisely how I'm going to steal the top job right from under his nose, I'd like to congratulate the Honourable Gentleman on achieving ten years as head honcho at the treasury.

Shame he only expected to be there for five. Har har har, ya fat bastard.

OK, ahem. First of all, let's get the women on board:

The Girly Vote

When Tippler is king, er, prime minister, it will be compulsory for all males over the age of sixteen to undertake  lessons in gynaecology. This with the express aim of teaching the 90% of blokes that apparently don't know a) what a clitoris is b) where to find it and c) what to do with the little pink, button-type thing once they've pinpointed its exact location.

Thank you girls, thank you. I knew it would be popular. But that's not all. Tippler will call a snap referendum shortly after being elected - to determine whether the toilet seat should be left up or down. Then we'll hear the arguments once and for all. Let the people decide - especially the ones who don't get shit-faced and pee on the seat.

Next, the Bloke Vote

For the guys, well, Tippler will appoint a 'Minister for Well-Being' with access to an entire department of attractive women. Their job for the duration of the administration will be to roam the length and breadth of the United Kingdom giving a free blowjob to any guy found holding a door open for anyone else, giving up his seat on a bus or helping an old person across the street.

In the Pink

Conversely, any heterosexual male found farting in a lift, picking his nose in the cinema, scratching his crotch in a public place or leaving skid marks in his undercrackers will be co-opted to perform oral sex on a member, ho ho, of the gay male community.

Meanwhile, on behalf of the gay ladies, Tippler has already asked the leaders of the Disabled Islington Lesbian Drop-in Organisation to suggest ways of rewarding those of their sexual persuasion. The carpet munchers, er, our Sapphic colleagues at D.I.L.D.O already have a few ideas. For some reason, these mostly involve dungarees and free 'Offa's Dyke' t-shirts. Anyway, we'll let you know in due course.

As for the cross-dressers, well sorry. Just make your fucking minds up.

Oldies

For OAPs, of which there are a growing number, Tippler pledges free cremations. This is to ensure that burial spaces do not run out, that we don't have to start stacking coffins twelve deep underground and that undertakers get to give their backs a rest.

This will ultimately be paid for by the decrease in the cost of policing those people who sleep on the streets. Such folk can all live permanently in coffins in the by-then under-utilised graveyards. They will also be given a free sandwich - but only on polling day.

Also, persons reaching 70, 80, 90 and 100 years of age will not only get a telegram from the Queen, she'll actually turn up for a cup of tea. However, any serious felons reaching such a landmark age will have to put up with a visit from the Duke of Edinburgh instead. Or Sir Salman Rushdie.

Benefits to society

Meanwhile, on a more general note, Tippler has decided that certain sectors of society are a major irritation to others. None more so than queue jumpers. Therefore, persistent offenders will ultimately be castrated. Three strikes and you're snipped! But not before they're made to queue, in the rain, for a bag of sugar, for a decade minimum, with enforcement officers on round-the-clock duty barging in front of them every five-and-half minutes.

'Make the punishment fit the crime' is the Tippler philosophy.

Also on the home front, Tippler will give extra incentives (lower taxes, free internet, garden gnomes, that sort of shit) to those professionals teaching English to persons of foreign extraction. The main 'linguistic battlegrounds' will be selected parts of inner London, large chunks of West Yorkshire and the entirety of Birmingham.

Planetwide

And on the world stage, the UK shall not find Tippler wanting. For example, to keep the 'special relationship' going between ourselves and the USA, we have devised the 'Transatlantic Initiative'.

This effectively means that your glorious leader will be prepared to sleep with soon-to-be president Hilary Rodham Clinton in order to distract her from using any Lockheed-Martin out-of-date weapons in bombing raids over Iran/North Korea/Barbados/Mars etc.

If the next president happens to be a bloke, I'll send one of the girls from the Ministry of Well-Being. In fact, I'll send all of them.

To conclude

Tippler feels that his Blue-Sky Think-Tank has pretty much covered the bases here, and that Gordon Brown is toast. I therefore commend this manifesto to the House.

Go back to your constituencies and prepare tonight's dinner! Er, hang on...

Go back to your constituences and prepare for power!

Comments

[SpanishGoth]

Yay - first. Haven't read any of it but you can blame that on Jack Daniels.

"Say hello Jack"

"Hello, I'm a naughty bottle of bourbon"

See

[bob]

Erm, I don't know that I want to be blown by a skidmark leaving, nose picking, elevator farting bloke.

Is this supposed to be a perk for the pinks?

[Tippler]

So I guess a 'crotch-scratcher' is ok, though, Bob?

My people will be sure to note it down.

Yours
The Big PM

[ordinary girl]

Blimey! I don't think I've ever seen a manifesto so comprehensive!

Between the BB housemates, we could take over the world! Mwah, ha, ha...

(Excluding my crappy manifesto that is! Ahem!)

[SpanishGoth]

Oi twat, shouldn't that be the

BIG PMT

for you?

[Tippler]

Not til next week, Goth Boy...

[Clare]

Hmmm.

[rereads bit about little pink buttons]

Oh all right then.

[Tippler]

Cheers, Clare. Pleasing all the people ALL the time is a bit of a toughie, eh.

Knowledge of little pink buttons cover quite a bit, though, I find.