Carl Beech: My Week

As told to Piers Morgan’s Organ. And Cressida Dick. And Tom Watson.

Friday: waited till noon for my ‘special friend’ Fred to contact me with more details on the senior Conservative ‘confirmed bachelor’ former PM who had a fondness for sailors taking him out on the Serpentine and showing him his penis which was forked at the end, much like the Devil’s penis. Fred was into this sort of thing. He once told me he’d had Satan. And Beelzebub. Nothing much to choose between them, he reckoned. Wasted morning. Flew to Manchester to attend Chief Constables’ Conference.

Saturday: Closeted in Downing Street with Boris and Carrie to rebut groping allegations. Thigh gripped only once – by Carrie. Boris unfazed.

Sunday: Quiet day. Flew to Washington to advise Donald Trump re impeachment. Nigel Garage was there. We both thought the Donald was unimpeachable. Went to the loo. Nigel followed me in wearing a black cape and fangs, he hovered over me about to pounce when Melania came in, said “Oh, excuse me” and closed the door. Reckon she sees a lot of that these days.

Monday: auditioned for part of Mr Moneypenny opposite Jodie Comer as 007 in next Bond film helmed by Phoebe Waller-Bridge, ‘Live and Let Dyke’.

Tuesday: Back to House of Commons to set fire to Jeremy Corbyn’s beard to declare Labour policy ‘smoke and mirrors’. Bumped into the Speaker behind his big chair. No-one around so he had a quick b-j. No, I’m not saying who ‘he’ or ‘he’ was. All I’m saying is that he’s not getting all his jollies from Sally at the moment.

Wednesday: arraigned at Westminster magistrates on charges of seeking to blow up Parliament. My defence – “It’s not even November 5^th!” Senior Met source informed the judge that my account was credible and true. Case dismissed.

Thursday: Phreebie Wallaby-Fridge calls to clarify my Mr Moneypenny role. Am I trans-gender? Yes, I cried in a convincing contralto.

Friday: Invited to Black & White Policeman’s Ball at the Savoy. Decide to go as Al Jolson. Fence-sitting or what! Bumped into Sir Des in the changing rooms. He was James Brown. I got down on one knee and he sang ‘Sonny Boy’. Well something like that. He had a cleft todger too.

An Inconvenient Truth

The widely feted school truant Greta Thunberg has had a very easy ride thus far. The pig-tailed Swedish sage at the tender age of sixteen has somehow managed to bewitch the leaders of the West in London, New York and the United Nations in responding to her petulant temper tantrums and timeless teen-age rants about the utter incompetence, rapacity and sheer evil of older generations with rapture, kow-towing to the Swedish ‘sage’ with an intoxicating cocktail of hysteria and hypocrisy.

Why, the little madam has even undone a century of educational progress by enjoining school-children across the world to abandon 20% of their expensive and hard-won learning opportunities in order to stage ‘protests’ somewhere or other or stay at home glued to social media (although what is ‘social’ about it beats me. It’s like saying ‘social event’ when really you mean a braying, growling bear-pit of abuse and ignorant prejudice, a hissing snake pit of venomous vipers.)

But relax, most of the world haven’t got schools to go to so what have they got to lose?

But amongst that cavalcade of world leaders prostrating themselves before the little minx chanting ‘We Are Not Worthy’ in a hundred tongues, only one dissenting voice was heard.

“I don’t share the common excitement about the speech by Greta Thunberg. No-one has explained to Greta that the modern world is complex and diverse. People in Africa or in many Asian countries want to live at the same wealth level as in Sweden. Go and explain to developing countries why they should continue living in poverty.”

Whose voice?

Vladimir Putin.

It truly says something when the only leader who will speak truth to Flower-Power is a communist tyrant. It shows us that the West has lost all faith, confidence and belief in the very pillars of its existence. As G. K. Chesterton observed, ‘When a man loses his faith in God it doesn’t mean he believes in nothing. On the contrary, he will believe in anything.’

One of the unique advantages of dictatorship is that you don’t have to listen to young people, you just draft them into the army. Job done.

Makes you think.

For what it’s worth, Greta is a familiar figure on the world stage, fit to take her place in the pantheon of child-stars:

1. Mary Temple
2. Judy Garland
3. Lena Zavaroni
4. Bonnie Langford
5. McCauley Culkin
6. Michael Jackson

All were deliberately groomed by their parents for fame, celebrity and stardom. And with only one exception, all were broken by the experience, their childhoods lost in a maelstrom of adult manipulation and exploitation.

I pity Poor Greta and her expectations – naïve, vulnerable and bound for disappointment, then rancour, then bitterness and, at last, obscurity. Mercifully.

 

David Kelly                                                                                           6 October, 2019