Wake up feeling that the world is full of possibilities for one such as I. Last night Bez won Celebrity Big Brother, indicating that the British public are capable of taking a drug-addled madman to their hearts. I hereby resolve to stand in the next General Election. I shall, of course, have to give up my seat in the House of Lords; my title, Lord Papmeister of Beeston, Duchy of Miggy, will pass to my eldest heir, who is a cat. No need for the ermine robes there. I will run for office on a platform of issues loosely based on those that Jello Biafra espoused when he stood in California many years ago - namely that all businessmen would be forced to wear clown suits and that cars would be banned. To this I would add several of my own. Some of these involve the reinstatement of droit-de-seigneur, which I think was a lovely old tradition; a repeal of duty on cigarettes and alcohol, and a plan to move pornography off the top shelf and onto one of the more accessible middle shelves to prevent me getting a crick in my shoulder and simultaneously enabling easier furtive browsing. All I need to do before I put my name forward is find and destroy all those photographs showing me naked except for suspenders, a stocking over my face and a slice of orange in my mouth.
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