Taking Dictation

Before I marshall my thoughts on the Oscars, just a brief thought that occurred to me yesterday when listening to the news.

Apparently ex British Prime Minister and lying failure Tony Blair made a phone call to the not-very-popular Colonel Gadaffi (or Qadaffi if you are feeling like using more exotic letters) advising him to, you know, consider the terrible state Libya is in, in case he hadn't noticed.


I instantly start to get cross when I hear liar and warmonger Blair insinuating his way into the news, so I stopped listening soon afterwards. But part of my mind couldn't help playing with the thought of him phoning up Gadaffi, and wondering what the conversation went like...

*ring ring*

Gadaffi:   Hello?

Blair:       Hello there! It's Tony!

G:            Tony?

B:            Blair. Tony Blair. Blairy-babes. T-Dog.

G:            Tony! Hello my friend. Listen, now is not really a good
                time...

B:            Yes, yes, I know. Some kind of protest?

G:            Indeed. Everyone in the entire country is shouting and
               burning things and saying they want me dead.

B:            Really? Gosh.

G:            Yes, so, I must go deal with this...

B:             Well.. yes... you could do that... you could...

G:             What do you mean I could? What other option do I have?

B:             It's just... hmm... have you considered... you know...
                 just... you know...

G:             What? What?

B:             ...just ignoring them?

G              ...

B:             You know... just... go do something else. Pretend it
                 never happened.

G:             But there are millions of people, ouside my window,
                 telling me they hate me.

B:             Yeah... but... so what?

G:             Millions, Tony! All of them utterly sick of me and what I
                stand for.

B:             I hear you, G-Dog, I really do... is it G-Dog? Or Q-Dog? I'm
                never sure.

G:             Either is fine.

B:             Cool. G-Dog. All I'm saying is... I'm a millionaire.

G:             A...

B:             Millionaire. I have, literally, millions of pounds.

G:             Still? Even after...

B:             Yup. I go where I want, have lovely dinners, give the odd
                 talk about how much I love peace...

G:             Just... ignore them.

B:             Pretend they're not even there.

G:             T-Dog! My friend! You are a genius!

B:              Just draw the curtains, G-Dog.

G:             Thank you my friend!

B:             Anytime. Bye then.

G:             Goodbye!

*click*

G:            The people love me. It is terrorists that are to blame.
                The protestors are delusional... ha ha ha ha!




I'm here all week.