I had a girlfriend once called Ivy. She got an F in biology, so I called her IVF. Ba-booom.

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The Slog has obtained access to hitherto top secret correspondence between Barack Obama, David Cameron and Ed Miliband over the Syria/Iraq bombing issue. We reproduce it here entirely in the interests of Truth and increased hits:

Dear Dave

Yes we can.

Barry.

………..

Dear Barry.

No we can’t. But let’s be clear about this, we will. It’s all about the Big Society.

Dave.

………..

Dear Ed

I know you will join me in heartfelt sympathy with the Special Relationship and the Big Society. And to these ends, we need to drop bombs on Syria and Iraq.

Please let me know your views

Dave

………..

Dear Dave

Can we just drop them on Iraq and not Syria for the time being?

Why are you so against the minimum wage and poor people?

I like fluffy kittens, Labour Party workers and feminist collectives. I feel that this is the blue water between us.

Ed.

………..

Dear Ed

Look here, I do like many things about poor people but I feel we should really be aiming more for a maximum wage – something in the region of £20 a week. This would give them something to aspire to, rather than something to become dependent upon.

Dave.

………..

Dear Barry

We are go for bombing. Slip in a few ground troops too, nobody will notice: X-Factor’s at the semi-final stage.

Dave.

………..

Dear Dave

I’m comfortable with that. Now, Putin: we’re gonna dump on him bigtime by depressing the oil price. I think we should do this thing together.

Yes we can!

Barry

………..

Dear Barry

Look here, the chaps at BP aren’t keen on the idea. They reckon it’ll destroy the North Sea oil business, and vapourise any chance we have to get fracking. Couldn’t you fire a poison dart at him instead, or accuse him of bayoneting disabled children?

Dave

………..

Dear Dave

Disappointed that you don’t want to get behind us on this project. You Brits have never been team players – but let’s not forget the special relationship….and the CIA file on you and Rebekah.

Barry.

………..

Dear Ed

I know you will join me in heartfelt sympathy with the need to give poor people greater independent mobility, and let the Ukrainian people decide that what they really want is to be in the EU. Washington has a plan to bankrupt Putin and halve the price of petrol at the pumps.

I hope we can make this a cross-Party issue.

Dave.

………..

Dear Dave

You can count on my support.

I am pleased to see you are supporting our campaign to rein in the predatory rapist instincts of we sad men.

Local Party workers, proud of our fighting men, fluffy kittens, living wage for badgers, Guardian, Highgate, salons and free bus passes for trannies: these are my abiding and unshakeable principles, so please don’t think you can buy me off.

Ed.

………..

Dear Barry

You can rely on my full support in bringing Putin to heel.

Dave.

………..

Dear Dave

Always knew I could count on our oldest ally.

Happy Holidays

Barry

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When Harry Hammer met Nelly Nail/He hit her on the head/And thus while he was quite correct/Poor Nelly is now dead.

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One of the endless retweets of the moment: ‘More than 3,000 people have drowned attempting to cross the Mediterranean sea this year’. The silly thing about the tweet is that it makes it sound like a sort of swimming gala disaster movie. Whereas it is really people escaping from the horrors of ‘the Arab Spring’ and Africa generally….and being exploited by arseholes and/or turned away by officialdom.

And by the way, did you know that nobody – not one single person – has been drowned attempting to cross the Pacific this year?

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Are you looking for something different for Christmas lunch? This week I have been provisioning, and the biggest decision as usual was what bird to choose. As I am no longer in the Nigella Lawson bubble – and there are only four adults eating – I decided in the end on a capon. I quite like turkey actually: it’s just the endless days afterwards of sandwiches, curries and soup that get me down.

However, perhaps we are far too traditional about Christmas – which, it goes without saying, has little or nothing to do with historical or contemporary Christianity. Maybe we ought to use this midwinter feast as a practice-run for the dark times that lie ahead. Here’s a menu I might think about for next year:

Clotted Pimps discreetly killed British bordello pimp crammed into a small pot

Wellied Vegetarian Heels Tedious vegetarian freshly kicked to death, and his achilles marinated in Nettle Wine

Boiled beef and parrots An imaginative mélange of Scottish Beef & Exotic Bird, the whole served with innovative trimmings – Brussels Eunatics, Roast Kraut, Feuilles alla Mario, and Sauce Hollandaise

Free Range Breast of Peasant Starving artisan stalked carefully, humanely shot and then hung.

Minced Eyes Vitreous humour and shredded retina en croute, topped with a cranial tissue sauce

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Yesterday at The Slog: How mechanical feminism destroyed tactile femininity