Mind the elephant


They’re all over the gaff, these baby elephants – painted primary colours and squatting in South Molton Street, in order to raise awareness for elephants globally (who are not, generally, in South Molton Street).  They are very sweet but someone will nick one of them, and deposit it outside Buckingham Palace for a giggle, so that David Cameron will trip up over it and ruin his perfect hair on his way back from collecting the seals of office. 

If they put models of politicians up around London people would just defecate on them, but I think people are quite fond of elephants.  There is an elephant shop where you can purchase miniature versions of the Disney-esque creatures clutting our thoroughfares at £75 a pop.  They are 5cm high.  Don’t the elephants know there is a recession on?

Meanwhile, I am distressed to discover that William Hill’s website has now stopped taking bets for the outcome of the political rigmarole.  Half of us (including the Bluebird) haven’t even cast our votes yet.  I just want to make some money out of the bastards before they destroy our liberty again and crap all over us.  If I can’t  benefit from the democratic process fiscally now, when can I?    Last General Election we had the Respect Dream party pop up on our ballot papers.  No one had actually heard about them but – astonishingly enough – 110 people in our London suburb voted for them.  Who on earth are the 110 people who vote for the Dream Respect Party?  That’s quite a lot of people.  That’s about the same amount of people who are in our Waitrose at any one given point in time.  All of them, hovering around the cottage cheese and fiddling amongst the pineapple juice organising a  furtive Dream Respect Party takeover of Finchley.  They are strangely absent this year.  Perhaps they have infiltrated the Greens.  Or the elephants.

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