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The real daddy of the G8 is someone else entirely

I drink your milkshake!Few, those floods in central Europe were something, weren’t they? Christ. I felt sorry for the poor Czechs, but let’s be honest, the Germans deserved it, didn’t they?

It’s been quite fun to put my feet up this past week and enjoy a little sun here in Kensington, at the same time the krauts have been running around desperately trying to shore up their doorways with sandbags, only for the floods to come gushing in and drown them all like rats.


It’s bloody great watching weather disasters happening in other parts of the globe while Blighty is basking in sunshine. You can even make a day of it. I recommend a steak lunch while watching the Weather Channel for updates, followed by a champagne picnic in Hyde Park while flicking through images of the destruction on your iPad, before a barbecue in the evening sun while using your contacts to access one of NASA‘s weather satellites. The perfect summer’s day.


Alas, as tempting as all that sounds I’ve got some serious business to attend to this week. It’s the G8 Summit next Monday and all the bigwigs are arriving in London, before they are held at gunpoint and forced to visit Northern Ireland for the meeting itself. I offered to give the guys some advice on how to tackle climate change fraud but instead the Russian ambassador asked me to help him find Putin the best hookers in town. He recently announced his divorce so he no longer has to be secretive about it, apparently. I told them I knew these two amazing sisters from Romania who were available tax-free because their pimp was based in Bermuda.


Now, for as much as Putin might think of himself, the real daddy of the G8 is someone else entirely. Obama? As if. Merkel? Give me credit. Hollande? Fuck off you commie. No, I mean the big dog, the kingpin, the high sheriff. That’s right, all the way from Canada, it’s Steve ‘Oilman’ Harper. This man operates on a different level. All Harper needs is one straw and he’s able to drink Britain’s entire milkshake. The Canadian lackeys are probably on their way to Bucks Palace now to ask Her Madge if they can buy drilling rights to Horse Guards Parade.


Not only is Harper down here for the G8, but he’ll be addressing the Houses of Parliament today to tell our MPs why the Canadian oil sands in Alberta need to be connected to Britain via a pipeline under the Atlantic. And quite right he is too, that stuff is pure gold. I’m going to ask him if he can pipe it into my bedroom.


The problem for Harper, however, is that the European Union is about to piss all over his oil flare. Those EU busybodies want to introduce something called the Fuel Quality Directive (FQD) to encourage the use of low-carbon transport fuels. Why on Earth would they want to do that? Canada’s having none of it. They need to build a pipeline for the oil sands to pay for their new church, and if you don’t like it, they’re going to beat you to death with a bowling pin.


Well, by the end of next week, if everything goes to plan, Canada will be selling more oil than Saudi Arabia, the Cheeky Girls will have top jobs at the Kremlin and Germany will be totally submerged under the Baltic. I’ll drink a milkshake to that.

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