Job Swap 4

Posts Tagged ‘Cameron’

  1. Job Swap 4

    March 31, 2012 by Christopher Buxton

    The story so far: As part of a European work-sharing initiative, the GLB  Greatest Living Bulgarian Boyko Borisov and Posh-boy David Cameron have swapped jobs.  Batty Boyko is now in Downing Street and firing on all cylinders. David Cameron is somewhat less comfortable in his Boyanna Residence)

    Previous episodes can be found in earlier posts


    E-e-ekh these spoilt English! I talk plain down-to-earth common sense to them and they lose their glass balls. Sometimes I feel homesick for my patient countrymen who know how to handle a crisis because they meet one every five minutes.  And they like queuing!  It gives them a chance to catch up on the gossip and complain about the black market.

    Don’t talk to me about shortages. In my house we always had fifty plastic 5 gallon containers full of water, so we could flush the toilet when the tap water stopped; my mother had five hundred candles and matches for the electricity black outs and we always had twenty Turkey cans full of petrol in the cellar. You call them Jerry after your enemies.  I’ve decided to call them Turkey.  My word is a new dictionary entry. I’ll tell Volen.

    So grow up English! All I said was you could use Turkey cans and learn to queue.

    What’s all this about pasties? I got a phone call from Chancellor George. He put a tax on hot food.  And now all hell broke loose.  I asked George – what’s a pasty? He hasn’t got a clue. Then I get Prince Charles on the phone because they’re Cornish. Turns out they’re some kind of meat banitza. I called a press conference so I could be seen eating one. Mmmmm! (eukh!) I get a very strong taste of turnip, but I manage to smile.  I’m not posh – not like my ministers. It takes me five hours to get the taste out of my mouth.

    Not been a good week. Some sneak photographer snapped me with Abramovich before the Chelsea game. It seems I have to steer clear of rich people for the time being – especially after Chancellor George cut the higher rate of tax. Then some clown in the Toff’s party was caught on camera saying that ₤250,000 would buy a lunch with me. Actually I’m a lot cheaper, especially now I’m eating pasties. I had to fire his bottom and then go find a pub which wasn’t full of bankers and let working folk buy me beer and bend my ear for ₤2.50.



    I keep asking my ministers about Romania.  It’s Bulgaria’s neighbour but no-one seems to know anything about it. Not like Greece, Serbia and Turkey.  My ministers seem to know a lot about these countries.  There are even jokes.

    Don’t worry about Romania, David! they say.  Only gypsies live there. Well, these gypsies want to own Bulgaria’s Black Sea oil. Or was it gas?  It’s like the Falklands all over again, only closer.  I phoned up Basildon Council for advice. We don’t want caravans on our nice new oil rigs.

    There’s a pretty grim island in the Danube where they’ve wanted to build an Atomic plant.  Gosh! the size of the fish there is already jaw-dropping. Once the generator gets going, I’ll be able to sign up Bruce Willis for Sturgeon Jaws 1,2,3 and 4. Perhaps I can get Hugh Grant to play me.

    I phoned Boyko the other day about my health reforms.  When I told him all the Bulgarian doctors were leaving to come to the UK, he just laughed. Then he asked me if I was going to put a tax on hot banitza.

  2. Job swap 3

    February 3, 2012 by Christopher Buxton

    The story so far: as part of a new EU initiative, European Prime Ministers have the opportunity to exchange places for a year. Here, Batty Boyko, the Greatest Living Bulgarian (GLB) is rewarded for presiding over Europe’s most successful economy by being entrusted with the UK Premiership, while UK Eurosceptic PM Cameron has been forced to swap Downing Street for a secluded palace in Boyanna.


    GLB: Everythings going pretty well here. Better than a fur lined french letter.  Yesterday I dispatched pretty Prince William to the Falklands. One in the eye for the Argies and a good write-up in the Daily Mail. Would you believe Melanie Philips has got my picture on her bedroom wall after my speech on Political Correctness. I wonder if Duchess Katya’s feeling lonely? I’ll give her a call later after I’ve delivered a broadside to the Bishops. They need to **** their mothers and just accept my Bulgarian welfare model. My people are brilliant at organising their own survival. I’ve arranged for the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Power Company chiefs to visit Stolipanovo to see how social problems can be tackled by community initiatives. Boris was on the phone earlier wittering on about bankers’ bonuses.  I told him straight. Why is Bulgaria in Angie Merkel’s good books?  Because it allows its businessmen to get on with no interference. Boris snorted something about getting away with murder.  I told him to shut his trap and make sure babies get tickets for the Olympics. I want pictures of me holding a new-born in the Olympic swimming pool. Kicked a few balls with John Terry yesterday, before my PR man told me he’d been accused of racism.  I had to cancel the photo shoot. They take all this very seriously here. I might invite Volen over for an Arsenal Tottenham match so he can get himself arrested and put in prison for a few years. But from what I hear from Dave, Volen’s not the force he was.


    DC: Gosh, it’s three-pairs-of-underpants weather here, and no young fag to warm your hands on – just Tsvetan who always looks so mournful, the temperature drops six degrees every time he comes into the room. Cheer up! I say.  Didn’t I give a five star speech praising the police handling of the Pernik affair? Kidnapper arrested and his suicide in police custody saved the state a lot of money. He mutters that the local police may have had a hand in the girl’s murder. Well that was a bit of a downer. Still I have to remind him: Eton wasn’t built in a day and we just have to accept that for the next few years, the justice system’s going to creak a little. Some major criminals will get off. There’ll be bad police apples. But we have to keep up the good fight.  Play up! Play up! And play the game! It took five hundred years for our British major criminals to turn into respectable politicians. We just need to set realistic targets and learn to work with the right private enterprises. No repetitions of the Tsar Kiryo debacle.

    I got a visit from Volen Siderov yesterday. He’s not the man he was but he still warms a room better than a Bulgarian radiator. Why haven’t I declared war on Turkey? Why haven’t I cut off relations with Macedonia? Why haven’t I interned the gypsies? Golly Volen – have you checked out your rating in the latest opinion polls? You’re doing worse than Milliband. Talking of Milliband – Sergei Stanishev is even wetter.  He reminds me of Snotty Caruthers after he stuck a whole pear up his backside for a bet at the Bullingdon. The expression on his face – I thought I’d never see it again. Well Sergei’s got his problems now. Super-smoothie Purvanov is after his job now he’s not President any longer. With his elegant hair style, he’s bound to get the women’s vote. I phoned up Boyko.  Anything to worry about? Boyko pointed me to a large file in Tsvetan’s office. A lot of stuff about DANCE. Purvanov looks the sort of chap who could manage an elegant fox-trot. Sam keeps on asking when we can hold a ball.