At last! At last, the time has come. They mocked, oh yes, they mocked; some even dared to scoff. But they are all laughing on the other sides of their faces now (those that still have faces to laugh with). My plan was sheer elegance in its simplicity and now, and now, it's mine, all mine. The world shall bow and tremble in fear under the glossily evil boot-heel of the High-Exalted, Great And Feared, Shiny-Pated Emperor Of the Cowed Peoples Of The World And The Known Universe, That Baldy Fella The First.
The world is my lobster,* my plaything, my gewgaw and my doodad so there are gonna be some changes round these parts and here is how it's going to work:-
- Do what I wilt shall be the whole of the law (but, you know, there'll be some specific stuff in there that you really shouldn't transgress otherwise you'll be in for some smiting, I reckon).
- All men shall have their heads ritualistically shaved but none shall be permitted to wear the Ceremonial (and now Imperial) Beard of Splendour save myself.
- Imperial wives - Angelina Jolie, Billie Piper, Natalie Portman, Kate off of Lost.
- Heads on pikes - P*ris H*lton**, Jeremy Kyle, all celebrity chefs, all reality TV show judges***, any anti-Baldist sympathisers.
- The Imperial flag will be a bald eagle and a coot with Patrick Stewart and Telly Savalas stood in front of them holding a can of scalp wax.
- The Imperial dish shall be some sort of cheese-based curry. Anyone offended by Imperial flatulence will sentenced to death by it.
- The Imperial sport will be dinosaur racing (having conquered the world as an evil genius, I'm bound to have high-tech genetics labs, freeze rays, time machines and all that kind of stuff just sort of lying about so this should be easy). Wembley Stadium shall become Jurassic Stadium - let's face it, it's not going to be used for football anymore...
- The Ministry Of Fluffy Happiness will have reasonable limits placed on the amount of secret arrests and savage beatings they can administer (this isn't much of a variation on the current system, I'll admit; if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Leaden satire, there).
- The following countries will be renamed:- France shall be known as Great Britain Jr. (they'll love that); America shall be known as Work Camp No. 1 (seriously, you'll all love toiling in the mines; apparently, it's great fun if a little wheezy and shortening to life expectancy); and Great Britain shall be known as Greater Baldonia (I know, it's catchy).
- The following shall be outlawed:- speakers on mobile phones; mime-based experimental theatre; handbag-sized dogs; exercise (come on, no one really enjoys it); imaginary scientific terms used to describe skin or haircare products; being hairy in a baldy-only zone.
- The following words shall be encouraged to be used more often:- jackanape; hullaballoo; snifter; impecunious; ne'er-do-well; plinth; as you wish, Oh High Exalted Shinyness
Oh, what bald new world, that has such hairlessness in it. People of the world, rejoice! Say it loud - I'm bald and I'm proud! (Failure to declare proudness in baldness could result in summary execution or worse.)
* Far superior to oysters
** There's some foul language that even I can't bring myself to type
*** Cheryl Cole will escape with a stint in the Imperial Harem
10 comments:
Yeah, I predict the fifth year into your reign I shall be the one that takes you out with a sharpened carrot. That is, unless, you give me some awesome title where I can wield my own brand of cruelty without fear of lashbacks.
I always had a sneaking suspicion that vegetables would be the death of me...
Little Known Fact: Carrots are natures stabbers. You can qoute me on that.
I'm with you on the mime-based experimental theater, but beyond that...HA, I say...HA! You'll not have my head on a pike, you right bastard!
I, the impecunious jackanape, stand here on my plinth, creating a hullaballoo by raising my sloshing snifter at you, you ne'er do well! Oh High Exalted Shinyness, I wave my semi-lustrous-but-not-too-long locks at you, and call your plan a silly thing!
Hear this, O Chrome Pated One! I shout out: Cry, Gumbo! and let slip the dogs of war!
And neener, neener, neener, can't catch meeeeee!!!!!
Oh God. Cheryl Cole...
Isn't she Paris's New British Best Friend.
You sad sad Bald Man.
IG - For such an impassioned argument, I shall consider sparing you.
However, I am a fickle ruler and have suddenly changed my mind. Release the hounds.
Belle - Well, I'm not sparing her for her conversation skills. Don't worry, I'm sure her reprieve will be temporary - I shall tire of her quickly (and she'll need to get a few more pies down her neck first, too, she's getting far too scrawny)
Very well, hounds 'tis! ROOIIIGHT!
.....
Hounds, yes. Hmm.
First, I shall procure some hounds.
THEN, I shall release them!
Eventually. I suppose it would help if I could actually find a purveyor of hounds.
Where do you get yours?
Thou shalt not covet Angelina Jolie for she is evil. Covet Salma Hayek instead.
Can we also send Michael Bay and Dan Brown to live out the rest of their years on the moon? (without spacesuits)
Oh, and ban people with clipboards in the street.
Hugs
Anna xxx
IG - Evil Hounds 'R' Us, of course
Anna The Russell - But if she's evil and I'm evil, surely that's a match made in evil heaven (which would be hell, I guess)?
Good choices - they're on the list...
Will you be needing lackeys? I humbly request the post of Official Petter of the Ceremonial Beard of Splendor.
I will, however, require a release from Work Camp #1.
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