Blog Name: Reggie Perrin

In Patagonia there are people who can play the flute through their nose. Why do they do this? I take the train to Waterloo every morning. Why do I do that?

When I get to my office I throw myself into the task of designing new and exciting disposable razor products. Sometimes I combine this with exercise. This morning, as I type this, I am clenching my buttocks for three seconds, then releasing and resting for five seconds. According to our resident 'Wellness' and irritating bitch person, exercise releases chemicals into the blood which help us to enjoy our 'space'. Steven Hawking, he likes space. Clearly, he must be constantly flexing his buttocks, when he's not interfering with wireless broadband and minicab control centres.

Here at Groomtech we relish the challenge of hair removal for the masses. This is our mission statement. It's been laminated, so it must be true. If only Richard Nixon had laminated his alibi then he would never have lost the presidency. Razors are always changing and we like to stay at the cutting edge. That's not on the mission statement, I just made that up. Making stuff up is what I do, which is why Groomtech is so big in the trouser department. Sorry, I meant grooming and personal beauty. The size of Groomtech's genitals have nothing to do with this at all. In Patagonia, hordes of nose flute players spend a fortune on our products, just so that they can ensure a fluff-free nasal passage, perfectly prepared for hours of nose-flute playing.

I am often asked where I get my ideas from, to which I normally reply "Parsnips". This makes me look deep, plus I get a slight sexual tingle from watching boring dick heads wrestle with the inherent zen qualities of this concept. Parsnips, as a means of constructing a framework within which we can rationalise our own existence, have been ignored for too long. I always keep some in my desk drawer, so that during tedious progress meetings I can fantasize about carving them into suggestive shapes and then stuffing them up the backsides of my desperately vile colleagues.

Well, time to get on. Another progress meeting is scheduled, in which we will discuss the progress we have made on reading the minutes of the last progress meeting in which we discussed what we willbe saying in the next progress meeting which is in five minutes. Just enough time for more buttock flexing.

Best to keep this anonymous though, in case the Patagonian Embassy gets wind of it. Through their noses, of course.

Blog Name: Nick Griffin - My Struggle

Just come down from the loft. Our Secretary for Public Works, Albert Sneers, is designing the new London, or as I like to call it, "New London". Albert's created a marvellous "Parliament Palace of the People". It'll be bigger than the Eiffel Tower, wider than the Taj Mahal and shaped like a Spitfire. His model is coming on really well but he's running low on lego again so we need to get round those charity shops.

Had a meeting yesterday with Joe Gobbles, our PR whizkid, about the recession. Henry Himenher said why don't we blame the jews, bearing in mind their international plot to overthrow governments and dominate the money markets? I pointed out that actually I quite like jews and in fact some of my best friends have spoken to jews. Finally we agreed that we should blame Freemasons. Joe agreed to stage a midnight rally during which we would burn an enormous pile of books about Freemasonry, although not the one proving that Freemasons came from Atlantis and aliens built stonehenge, because that needs to go back to the library next Monday.

I've been really busy out in the garden. The patio has been cleared and Albert and I have dug down nearly five feet. Albert says it'll be a while yet before we can start pouring concrete, but hopefully the bunker will be ready for Christmas. Herby Goring popped over to "help" but, surpise surprise, the fat, lazy bastard just "helped" himself to the contents of my fridge then buggered off again.

Tomorrow I'm seeing our Secretary for Science, Wally Vonbrundebier, who is still working on the Vengence Weapon Mk1. This is supposed to be a ballistic missile. At the moment we have a "Mega ThundaBlasta" left over from bonfire night, in a milk bottle. It's time to asked Wally about progress, and about the 500 quid he's had to fund his research program and about the new Mondeo parked outside and his holiday in Sorrento. Basically I can't help thinking there's something fishy going on here. Last time he promised that progress would pick up now that he has access to slave labour. I reminded him that three Polish plumbers and a Serbian carpet fitter working cash in hand do not count as 'slaves'.

Anyway, now I'm in the European Parliament the cash will start rolling in and then we'll see some changes. Some smart black uniforms for the boys, maybe a few torchlight parades now that we can afford more batteries. I really fancy a place in the country, probably on top of a mountain. Anyway, all that to come but no time to waste. I'd better keep this anonymous though - the gutter press would just take it all out of context and call me 'racist' or some such nonsense. Untermenschen.

Blog Name: Expenses? What Expenses?

Editor's note: Extracts from the parliamentary blog of Lord Slippery-Clench, Tory MP for Sodham West. The following entry was made prior to the current revelations about MP's expense claims.


As the very proud Tory MP for Sodham West, which of course includes Little Felching, Much Spanking and Choking North, I often get asked how I manage on the very small salary which Parliament grants me.

Luckily, we MPs are able to put in claims for those expenses which we incur as part of our normal, every day parliamentary duties.

My house, for instance, is a constant drain on my slender resources. Darling Fanny, my good lady wife, is often in despair over the costs of staff, hunting, landscaping the grounds and maintaining the five limousines. I say to her, "Darling Fanny," I say, "Chin up, and remember, it may be hard but it's nothing you can't take."

Yes, I know what it's like to worry about cash. I barely have enough to finish the other house, which needed completely new furnishings, I mean, Darling Fanny was gaping when she saw how awfully outmoded it all was. But thanks to this marvellous expenses procedure, I was able to secure the entire contents of a Normandy Chateau which came up for sale. Another expenses claim will get me enough cash to have all three truck loads of furniture shipped over, and finally, our beautiful home will be finished just in time to get it on the market and sold before we whizz off to our well earned summer break.

Trouble is, the jolly old bills just keep rolling in. It seems that Darling Fanny has been paying her best friend, Chlamydia Barrels, for the use of her three Afghans as private secretaries. Well I naturally thought they were people, not bloody dogs. Now Chlamydia has asked that their salaries be upped by 20% because of their rising workload. Well, what's a chap to do? I told Darling Fanny to pay the bloody woman and just scribble something on the expenses form about providing gainful employment for political refugees.

Well, I'm not one to moan, so it's chin up and soldier on with the business of running this proud and noble country of ours. Meantime, I really should keep this anonymous else I'd need to claim for publishing expenses which would simply be greedy, what!

Blog Name: Gene Hunt - The Gene Genie

Well well, you live and learn. There was i, thinking that 'blogging' was some deviant sexual practice between consenting bastards in a car park, when in fact, according to DI Drake it's all about keeping a diary and 'expressing yourself'.

The last time i 'expressed' myself, Fingers McGee had his teeth kicked so far down his throat he ate his lunch through his arse. But then i suppose that even an old fashioned copper like me can learn new tricks.

Take this psycho-wotsit profiling that Drake's always on about. I told her, villains don't have any psycho-wotsit worth looking at. The best way of profiling some spotty git who enjoys spraying his name on flyovers and mugging old ladies is to twist his nasty little head round until it comes off. She then accused me of being 'old fashioned'. Too bloody right love, i said. I like being old fashioned. I enjoy oldy-worldy stuff like banging up pimps and murderers. Much better than the modern alternative of feeding them tea and biscuits and asking them if this ink blot reminds them of their first wank.

But, because i am more flexible and accomodating than some tart in a Bankok floor show, i am willing to try anything. Last week, for instance, i cornered a certain Nobby 'Molegrips' Fletcher in the tap room of the Jolly Sailor. He was wanted for armed robbery and assault with intent. He didn't want to come quietly, but, remembering Drake's advice, i reasoned with him. After that, i let DS Carling reason with him. After that we called an ambulance while uniform swept up the bastard's teeth. Being flexible and accomodating i will, of course, have them wrapped and posted to him.

At the moment i am working on a case involving drugs, prostitutes and booze. It requires me to wade chest deep through the shit-infested sewer that lies underneath our cosy little world. But i'm not worried about that. All i care about is that Drake sorts out the disco and DC Skelton gets off his useless arse and sorts out the sandwiches. Otherwise we'll never get to enjoy my birthday party.

Anyway, enough of this bollocks, time to get out there and collar some more scumbags. And all of the above is staying anonymous, because, despite what Drake says, actually you're sodding guilty until i say otherwise.

Blog Name: French Sex and How To Do It

Hi, my name is Nicholas Zarkozy and because i am French, i am an expert on all things to do with sex, including areas such as

• What it is
• Where it is
• How things work
• Nasty rashes
• Disco music

In this blog i will present to you a number of ways in which you can spice up your sex life. So, buckle up and hang on, we're going on the sex rollercoaster down the Orgasm Peage to le paradis en France!!

Relationships

A stable relationship is very important, so i have several and, being French, i am able to satisfy all my women at the same time. This is crucial. If you are not French, or worse, English, you can not do this. You must only have the one relationship, else you will not satisfy any of your women and you will have to ask a nearby frenchman to help them achieve their orgasms.

Where to get sex

I get my best sex in the kitchen, where i take the scullery maid roughly from behind while she is grooming my poodle. Sometimes, i get sex almost as good when i am in a traffic jam and beautiful parisien women slide through the windows of my citroen and take my powerful french manhood in their gasping mouths, until the lights change and i have to beat them away with my fists. Occasionally, gorgeous film stars arrive at my house disguised as telephone repair women and i have brutal, french sex with them under the stairs where the junction box is.

Sex positions

The best positions depend on how many of you there are. Being French, i am usually surrounded by several beautiful women, all of whom are biting and scratching each other to be the first to receive my powerful french manhood. In this instance, i adopt the l'autobus position, IE three come at once. Sometimes i get bored however and go outside to smoke gauloises and write another chapter for my book on philosophy.

The G Spot

There is no such thing as the G Spot. Beautiful french women would not need one in any case as they are permanently in a state of arousal, on account of being close to so many virile, thrusting french men. English women may possibly have a G spot. I don't know. Probably no one does, least of all english men.

Lesbians

In France, lesbians are now accepted as legal in certain cities, although in rural areas, they are still traditionally tarred and feathered every Sunday, after Mass. NB this only applies to ugly lesbians in large and unfashionable shoes. Beautiful lesbians in nice clothes are welcome in most shops and restaurants.

Disco music

Music is very important to the French People which is why Sacha Distel is still popular, despite being dead. We French like to have wild sex whilst listening to music. I like to listen to marching bands of the French Foreign Legion whilst spanking my secretary, and her three sisters, with asparagus tips. After that, we play selections from La Cage aux Folies while they rub my nipples with coq au vin. We French do not play disco music as self abuse is still punishable by death.

Next time i shall explore the darker side of sex. Animals, corpses, dungeons. Yes, i'll be chatting to my great friend, Max Moseley. In the meantime i shall stay anonymous, otherwise Prime Minister Brown will be pestering me for tips on how to get girls. Au revoir!

Blog Name: The Bank of England

In my capacity as Governor of the Bank of England, I carry many burdens upon my shoulders. Inflation, deflation, recession, depression, exchange rates and interest rates, avoiding fiscal prurience and staving off alien invasion.

My recent decision to implement a program of quantitive easing, to inject new money into the economy, was not arrived at without a great deal of thought. Clearly, in desperate times, we must consider turning to desperate measures. I feel I speak for the whole country, however when I say that even as our printing presses churn out more banknotes by the million, we can take some comfort in the knowledge that the measures are working and the banks are indeed queuing up to sell me their government bonds, which will help to release more capital into the economy.

And I can say to you all, that although we have acted quickly, we have not acted hastily. Indeed, we have little time to spare. Our economy is at a turning point and we must be sure to steer it in the right direction to encourage the money to flow once more which will give us the means to defend ourselves against the Treens, who even now are massing their armies on that distant world.

Yes, some are uncertain as to how effective these measure will be in the long term, but they should weigh their words carefully. A little pain today is preferable to Treen stormtroopers goose-stepping down Whitehall tomorrow, whilst that creature who is evil personified, the Emperor Mekon, takes the salute from the steps of his Imperial Command Ship.

I know that these are worrying times. Indeed, I am just as worried as anyone. In fact, I haven't slept for three months now and if it wasn't for the bathroom fairies scrubbing my armpits every morning, I wouldn't have washed either. But we must go forward, heads held high, and do battle with the new Axis of Evil, namely Inflation and His Foulness, the Emperor Mekon. We can prevail. We will fight them on the beaches and we will go forward into sunlit uplands, lit by the candles of Victory.

In the meantime, this blog shall remain anonymous - there are spies everywhere. Trust no one!

Prime Minister's Question Time

I know that many of you have questions about the challenges facing us all. In this blog, therefore, I hope to answer some of those questions using every day terms that fully relate to and are born from the lives, and aspirations, of you, the people.

Alan, in South Wales, asks: Do you think we should nationalise all our banks?

Well boyo, look you, see this is a bit of a tricky one, like growing leeks, isn't it? You plant the buggers and let all that lovely rain soak them right through, look you, then before you can say Max Boyce, the bloody green fly have got 'em. Never mind eh, not while we got the telly and bit of rugby, isn't it?

June, in Birmingham, asks: Is the Government planning to cut public spending?

Bit of a tricky one, that. By rights we should be saving a few bob, y'know like a couple of quid every now and then, y'know, but thing is, we're all a bit strapped at the mo', so really it's, like, anybody's guess. Really.

Toby, in London, asks: How will the recession affect the plans for the Olympics?

Listen mate, we ain't gonna let a few fackin quid stop the party, never mind what those bleeding wankers in the City are saying. We're gonna have the biggest knees-up ever, strike me dead if we aint, and if some toffy-nosed barstard tries to get in the fackin way I'll have his knee caps.

Susan, in Glasgow, asks: What about Scotland's plans for independance?

Och, well, the noo, that's a bonnie wee question, and I think we all ken the answer there, lassie. Aye, let's not forget that many a mickle mucks a mackerel. The noo.

Alex, in Belfast, asks: Perhaps we should adopt the Euro currency now?

Bejaasus, and that's a fine question, to be sure, to be sure. Did i tell you the one about the two Irish men outside the job centre? Paddy says to Murphy, "Would you look at that, typical of our luck, they want tree fellers and there's only two of us." To be sure.

Norman, Vice President of the Lesbian and Gay Outreach Committee, asks: When will interest rates begin to rise again?

Ooh, i say, what a big question that is. I don't think i've ever been probed like that before, ooo-err. Still i'll do me best, i mean, you know i'll bend over backwards for anyone, dear. Now just give me a minute while me nail varnish dries.


Well, hopefully this answers a few of the questions that I know you all have. Should there be more, please send them to me, C/O Downing Street or via this blog. You can, of course, remain anonymous. I know that I certainly intend to.