The Adventures of George W. Bush
You call Anthony Charles Lynton Blair for help.
"Speak to me,"comes that tired old line the telegenic Englishman is so fond of using. He thinks he's so cool. But c'mon, his nuclear arsenal is at best only half of what you've got. And let's not forget his penis is much smaller than your vastly superior American prick. "It's George," you announce hurriedly. "I finally did it. I finally nuked those hypocritical French wussy boys. Heheheh."
Tony Blair lets out a languid yawn. "And?" he presses you with a decidedly pompous tone in his usually calm and measured voice. "And," you drive on, "they hit back. Nobody told me they'd hit back. Rumsfeld didn't. Cheney didn't. Jesus didn't. I feel so betrayed. Anyway, to make a stupid story short, I'm five minutes...no, make that four minutes and twenty seconds away from being obliterated off the face of the Earth. Me and most of Washington. What should I do, Tony??"
An uncomfortable silence ensues. "Sorry," Blair lies. "I'm currently engrossed in the latest edition of [i]Cosmo. I'm afraid I didn't hear a word you said. Could you please repeat that?"[/I] "Good God, man!" you rage. "I'm about to be incinerated by the French!"
"Oh," Tony drones. "How nice. Anything else?" "Um, uh," you bashfully sputter, "no."
"Splendid!" And Blair hangs up on you. So much for the English lending a helping hand. You're down to three minutes now, who do you turn to?????
"Speak to me,"comes that tired old line the telegenic Englishman is so fond of using. He thinks he's so cool. But c'mon, his nuclear arsenal is at best only half of what you've got. And let's not forget his penis is much smaller than your vastly superior American prick. "It's George," you announce hurriedly. "I finally did it. I finally nuked those hypocritical French wussy boys. Heheheh."
Tony Blair lets out a languid yawn. "And?" he presses you with a decidedly pompous tone in his usually calm and measured voice. "And," you drive on, "they hit back. Nobody told me they'd hit back. Rumsfeld didn't. Cheney didn't. Jesus didn't. I feel so betrayed. Anyway, to make a stupid story short, I'm five minutes...no, make that four minutes and twenty seconds away from being obliterated off the face of the Earth. Me and most of Washington. What should I do, Tony??"
An uncomfortable silence ensues. "Sorry," Blair lies. "I'm currently engrossed in the latest edition of [i]Cosmo. I'm afraid I didn't hear a word you said. Could you please repeat that?"[/I] "Good God, man!" you rage. "I'm about to be incinerated by the French!"
"Oh," Tony drones. "How nice. Anything else?" "Um, uh," you bashfully sputter, "no."
"Splendid!" And Blair hangs up on you. So much for the English lending a helping hand. You're down to three minutes now, who do you turn to?????