A further despatch from the Right Honourable Mr Rancid Cameldung, Prime Minister and leader of the League for Extending Genuine Universal Privilege (LEGUP)

 It was while wandering through the verdant fields and fecund hedgerows of middle England, followed by camera crews and sound-level Johnnies, that gradually in my mind there began to form the bare bones of a fourth attempt in six years to explain to the Tory Party what I stand for. Indeed often, when talking to my friends in the 1922 Committee, they say to me, “Is there anything you wouldn’t stand for from Brussels, you spineless jellyfish?” and I smile in return, marvelling at the Conservative Party’s genius for open and democratic debate.

“The only thing you stand for is privilege, you Tory scumbag” a disillusioned youngster shouted during my recent tour of a chimney-sweep retraining boot camp. And do you know, I felt an immense kinship with the fellow, for he clearly felt alienated from my Big Society here in Tooting Norton.

Many people in today’s vibrant and reborn Britain feel left outside the community, but this really is a false belief. For instance, the thousands of angry young people who engaged in fruitless and random looting last year felt totally left outside our social system, but then found themselves inside the prison system before you could say “Silence in Court”.  Whereas those bankers, media executives and fraudster MPs – who might justifiably argue that they too should be enjoying life at Her Majesty’s pleasure – remain strangers to the justice system. We all have our cross to bear.

Anyway, there I was walking across our village, watching the members of a visiting Columbian marching band toot-tooting their way down Hotcourses Lane, when I had a flash of aspiration. Aspiration does not come easily to me, as since the day I was born, I have not needed to aspire to anything. But with an irresistible force – almost as if Eric Pickles had landed on my head – I suddenly thought, “I am not here to defend privilege…I am here to spread it. And by the time I’ve finished, we shall all, every one of us, be full of it”.

Just as our tenant farmer Hodgkiss spreads horseshit all over the land in order to render it more fertile, so too would I invite people to dream of a pleasant land in which new houses and privilege have spread throughout all social stations to Barking. We must all have our dreams, and I, Rancid Cameldung, would be the ultimate purveyor of dreams, working on the assumption that all the plebs need to dream, on account of spending much of the time fast asleep.

We should be able to look to senior members of the Conservative Party for classic examples of honest, hard graft to make my point here. And I am happy to report that there is no shortage of such shining examples of determination overcoming ridiculous red tape and regulation put in its way.

Take my good friend and Conservative Party Chairman, Mr Grant Shapps. Not content with working hard at being Grant Shapps, without any thought whatsoever for his personal enrichment he built a second career as Sebastian Fox, and then a third as Michael Green. This latter, I should add, was in no way related to Baron Green, and nor is Baron Green a station on the London Underground. No, this particular Green also had three careers – Colombian currency integrater, banker, and Olympics room-worker – all of them kept entirely separate by his own unique system of whispering in Chinese.

Then again we have that young up-and-coming scamp Dan Hannan, a man so selfless that, although he hates both the EU and me, he remains a Conservative MEP. That is what I call making a sacrifice for your country….by the use of tireless self-publicity, and an inestimable wit, on Twitter. ‘Britons! What do you want: smelly open-toed Labour sandals, or healthy Tory scandals?’ he tweeted last week. Oh how we laughed.

But probably the best privilege-spreader we have is Baroness Vagina Frunt-Bottomley of South West Surrey. We have watched in awe at the shiny brass on Vagina’s perfectly formed neck as she spread first British Council contracts and then even her own seat as an MP to her distantly related protégé Mr Jeremy Frunt-Bottomley. And then how Jeremy in turn spread the privilege of his position as Culture Secretary to the struggling Newscorp media company of whom I had never heard. When you consider that at one time, Vagina and Jeremy were so poor they had to share an uncle, it’s enough to make any caring person weep.

What a woman Baroness Frunt-Bottomley is, but even she cannot hold a candle to my dear wife Samantha who – when I was just an Old Etonian trying to make his way in a harsh world – rang her dear Mama and got me a job at Carlton Television after that beastly Richard Eyre chap had turned me down.

And of course, I could not possibly reach the end of this little news bulletin without mentioning the determined struggle against authority that has marred the life of my Chief Whip, Mr Andrew Mitchell….a man so committed to keeping the over-privileged in their place, he is even prepared to hold his ground and shout abuse at armed Metropolitan police officers. If only such officers had acted more promptly to rein in the activities of people like Mrs Rebekah Redtop – who I’m told once gave me a horse, although I cannot recall when or why – then I, that is, we, wouldn’t be mired in this appalling Hackgate business.

Gradually – but more quickly with every passing month – this sort of privilege-spreading is transforming our country, enervating meritocracy via its promotion of those who are, as it were, good at promoting themselves. So being mindful of this incredible growth in the number of privileged people in these cosy little islands of ours (where nature must be preserved, but also election costs paid for) I am today authorising a special expenditure of some £270 million to extend Eton College, to the point where it can house twenty times more students than now.

Naturally, the Eton authorities have advised me that this will mean a doubling of fees there, in order that they might recoup the cost of employing twenty times more teachers. But then we should remember that everything must be earned, and nothing given away.

As our fine Honours System has shown time and again over the last 200 years, if you want privilege, then you have to pay for it.

Thank you for listening. It’s been a privilege. I hope before too long to be giving you further details of our new privilege extension, once we can get the planning authorities here to agree to it.

Thank you, goodnight, and remember that we are all – high or low, rich or poor – in this lifeboat together. My Number 1 Mr George Osborne has secured a ready supply of Verey lights, and assures me that rescue cannot be long in coming.

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