A letter a day to number 10. No 1,401
Wednesday 13 April 2016.
Dear Mr Cameron,
Imagine if you can Mr Cameron, the climactic moment when, out of the dawn of time, apes finally evolved into humans. Imagine where we would be if there had never been a millionaire to have been the first and to have encouraged others to make the great genetic leap into sentience. All those apes sitting around on their backsides doing nothing waiting for nuts to fall out of the trees for them to gobble up to feed their worthless lives.
What would have happened if ‘Tory Man’, let’s call him Alan, hadn’t remonstrated with the feckless apes warning them, ‘we risk seeing an Earth which is stuffed full of low-achievers who hate enterprise, hate people who look after their own family and know absolutely nothing about the outside world’? History has proved him right, of course, today his descendent, Sir Alan Duncan MP, is the living proof of that great emergence of man and tax havens.
Sadly not much has changed with a mere 0.7% of people in the UK having achieved millionaire status, even with the allure of a costume bedecked knighthood to spur us on, still the vast majority of us are inured to living our lives as low-achieving, feckless, layabouts.
Of course, back in the day, our ancestor Alan would have worked out that the trick was to gather up all the nuts to incentivise emerging humans to get a job and buy the nuts from him. Poor starving, half human creatures, driven by depravation and privation to seek work at Alan’s Bronto Burger Bar for minimum nuts, though later rebranded as the ‘new living nut’. Some of the proto-humans, beardy slovenly creatures, did wonder why they had to work for nuts when they grew in such plenty all around them, but Alan informed them that he now owned all the nut trees having taken them into his exclusive private ownership. He even established plantation workers to plant and grow more nut trees, but the low-achieving, low-life, labourers never saw any increase in their meagre nut packets.
Today, Sir Alan Duncan MP, who many of us fondly think of as a ‘nut job’ in recognition of the historic emergence of real men, stands proudly in the modern houses of parliament puzzled by our “synthetic indignation” and our refusal to admit that our real point is that we hate anyone who has got a hint of walnut in them. We’re all nuts, of course, with our seething kernels of discontent and what is known as the pistachios of envy, and our virulent hatred for our masters and betters and politicians, or mass debaters.
It was ever thus and you must be terribly disappointed with our ingratitude. These are sorrowful times for all you nut jobs. Perhaps, like Iain Duncan Smith, you shed a tear or two for us with our hopeless lives lacking in imagination and the strength of character to strive and get on, unlike you and your government of hard working millionaires who want nothing but the best from us, giving our all for peanuts.
‘Sorry, I’m emotional’: Iain Duncan Smith breaks down in tears during interview
Fear and Loathing in Great Britain 