Your new Prime Minister.....

God afternoon voters, please take a few minutes to listen to this party political broadcast.

My (theoretical) party is called the Reclaim Great Britain party, and over the next 5 days we (me) are going to take you through our manifesto using the media of pictures and hopefully humour.

This party wasn't formed four years ago, the brainchild of university educated political activist Gary. Or me. Imagine how catastrophic it would have been if instead of going to university the brightest young light in the world of politics had instead discovered the three 'W's: weed, women, and weak lager. Tragic.

So exciting times tomorrow as I have a chat about the health service. In fairness that should be interesting as I have very little major comment on the health service. Why did I even include it in my manifesto plan?

So hopefully some of you regular commentors may like to take up my challenge by putting a 'health / healthcare / nhs' themed picture on tomorrow? Go on, make me feel special. Like a trend setter. Last time I tried to set a trend went badly: I thought tartan trousers, white silk shirt and black waistcoat would be the next big thing: It made me look like a sadistic Rupert the Bear rent boy or something. Hopefully this will go slightly better.

Shockingly I didn't really enjoy my barbeque. Not going to bang on about it but I'm thinking of cancelling my Hippies and Punks party on July 2nd now. I think that my friends have outgrown me and vica versa, and that the longer I try and rebuild friendships that have withered the more they will die off.

I'd love to be invisible.

I didn't win the lottery last night, so sadly rxs will have to wait for his helicopter. However I pledge right now (on blip which is basically a legal contract) that if I do ever win the lottery (six balls only) I'll buy that crazy Scot with imaginitevely named friends a helicopter.

The answer yesterday? I was never on Funhouse I'm afraid. However I did manufacture that story from some actual events: I only went to my first football game as punishment for being caught swearing at seven, and I did get one of those rulers when I was ten, but as a christmas present from the hospital ward I was on (appendix not like a young offenders place) and when I went back to school I told everyone I'd been on Funhouse because I thought spending all christmas on the sofa unable to move and soiling myself wasn't exciting enough.

I'm happy to report that although I've stopped the soiling, I do still rarely move from the sofa. I've never met Pat Sharpe either, or those moronic twins with the pompoms.

Sorry one last thing, an advert just came on for 'uniform dating.com'...... reckon my Poacher outfit is classed as a uniform? I might be able to hook up with a Donny Dog.