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It’s great living a life of excess without worry to the consequences

Boris milkshakeI tell you what, I’m so glad climate change has stopped and there isn’t going to be an apocalypse any more. Boy, did I celebrate this reprieve in style over Christmas.

First, I bought some shares in British Petroleum. Then, and get this right, I left my heating on max all day even though I was in Chipping Norton shooting pigeons.


This is officially the most depressing day of the year. Well, it is if you’re the kind of pleb who has a 9-5 job that you can’t get out of. After eight hours of sitting at your desk, answering emails, answering the phone, pissing your pants, all you’ve got to look forward to when you get home is Celebrity Big Brother. But me? I’m going to spend the day in a jacuzzi getting massaged by a svelte blonde Swedish model, and then watch Celebrity Big Brother.


Those storms last week were quite something, weren’t they? I didn’t see those coming. If I had, I most certainly wouldn’t have booked a hiking holiday in the Peak District. Fortunately, I had enough sense to bring my new 4X4 Porsche Cayenne. I’m not sure the other walkers appreciated me tailgating them, mind.


Now I don’t have to worry that my carbon emissions will do any harm, I’m going to take full advantage with a whole host of guilt-free trips around the world. What with the Olympics coming up this year, I need to stay out of London as much as possible. Anyone want to rent my flat in Kensington? It’s only £2,000 per hour, but you will have to feed Timmy when he’s out of hibernation.


It’s great living a life of excess without worry to the consequences. I’ve missed this life. It’s so fulfilling, to know that I can indulge myself in all of the pleasures capitalism has to offer, from shopping, to eating, watching television, driving and spying on people through Facebook. As Neil Armstrong so eloquently put it; what a wonderful world.


I’ve started eating meat again as well. Oh Jesus, how I’ve missed chomping down a sirloin steak for lunch every Friday, followed by lobster in the evening and maybe a cheeky bucket of fried foie gras at 3am after a night out at Stringfellow’s.


Alright, time for me to make like a banana, and split. I’m off to Malta for a few weeks. I’m flying by private charter jet, courtesy of my new business partner, Boris Johnson. Yes, that’s right, I’m going into business with the mayor of London. He said he needed the expertise of an experienced meteorologist to help him win re-election this year. Chow!


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