Dear Dave and George,

It’s not really going so well, is it? Hasn’t quite planed out like you thought. You and Clegg thought you had boarded your very own Love Boat. Turned out to be the Poseidon instead. Unlucky.

It has to be said that, thus far, the three of you have proven to be about as much use as a pair of knickers to a Knightsbridge hooker. No disrespect to Mayfair hookers intended.The combination of Daleks and protocol droids that you refer to as a cabinet does, indeed, contain a certain amount of dead, varnished wood. But I digress..

Anyway…., I have been thinking this whole national debt crisis through and, if you’ll pardon the presumptions of a pig headed little pleb, I’d like to offer you a possible ‘exit route’ from our current predicament (I know it’s not really YOUR predicament, but that’s our secret). Bear with me.

‘Dave’… George…. I think you should both strongly consider volunteering for public decapitation on Tower Hill. Yes, I know that sounds a little drastic, but please bear with me, and consider the benefits. I’m sorry- unfortunate choice of words. I know ‘benefits’ are something you’re not really on board with. Heigh-ho…

The ticket sales alone to view your joint public executions would obliterate the entire national debt at a single stroke. OK, two strokes. If you’re both lucky. And think of the publicity it would bring to London! Every TV network in the world would be tripping over themselves to cover THAT gig! And what would it do for tourism, eh?

Nor should we forget the merchandising side. Imagine all those special ‘Dave’ and ‘George’ dolls you could sell. Hey, let’s get really enterprising, and make a ‘before’ and ‘after’ doll for each of you. In a thousand years time, these could still be treasured family heirlooms. Guys- I’m offering you immortality of a sort here. And all those toy rubber axes, black hoods and DIY executioner’s block kits would go like hot cakes! Ker-ching!

You should consider the potential boom it would give to the electronics industry also.Could well be the biggest one since Guy Fawkes got under the Houses of Parliament. The sales of digital cameras and recorders would go through the roof as people spent like drunken sailors, just to capture every last moment of your big day. And the rail companies would make a killing. Oops, a touch insensitive there. Just getting carried away by the swing of things. Oops, there I go again. Me bad….

We could build a special VIP area and charge an obscene small fortune for the best views. As for the plebs, they will have to make do with whatever space is left. No worries. I’m sure everyone will still enjoy the show. Even the Police will be far more smiling and good humoured than they have had reason to be for a long time.

And imagine what food outlets would make on the day! You could sell fish and chips, burgers, pasties. Well, pasties are basically… oh, never mind. You get the gist of it, I’m sure.

I’m sure your mate Boris could be relied upon to set the whole thing up with his usual zeal and effluence. And, for the first time in your wretched, pathetic apologies for existences, you would actually make a huge chunk of the British population delirious with joy.

We could get Davina McCall to do a live, no-holds barred commentary. Mind you, I doubt the BBC would dare touch it. We could have big screens put up in Hyde Park, and in city centres right across the country. Hell, make it a public holiday.

Can you see where I’m going with this, guys? It’s win-win!

Dave- you could go out in style. Holding a mournful, eve-of-execution banquet in the Tower with your good friends, Clarkson and Brooks. Hey, maybe you could even sell seats and donate the funds to the Tory Party- a Last Supper at £250,000 a pop? Bedpan and straw included.

George. Oh, George… you’ve always come across as the kind of guy who thinks he should be carried everywhere in a sedan chair. We could get you a nice, powdered wig for your ultimate gig. Then, you really would look like one of those haughty, defiant French aristocrats, sneering at the peasants as they mounted the steps to the guillotine. Not that you don’t already, of course.

Who could we get to actually perform the deed? Gawd, the demand would far outweigh the supply. Thing is, your ‘policies’ have outraged and crippled so many normally placid people that you’re creating a nation of latent psychopaths in your own image.

That’s why I propose selling raffle tickets- a kind of ‘People’s Lottery’ if you will. Still, you’d need to pulp every last Bible in the realm to create enough new tickets to meet the demand. Maybe we could get Danny Boyle in to make some commercials for it?

I think the demand to wield that axe would be phenomenal.Such a pity we can only do it once, really, isn’t it?

And what a glorious end to your legacy! Guys- you won’t get a better finish than this. With or without Ronseal.

I have to admit that I do quite favour the idea of putting your severed bonces on spikes, so that people can throw rotten vegetables at them for a year or two. You both know how important it is that our kids get their ‘five-a-day’. This would be easier if they could throw whatever was left at you.

Guys- you have spent what feels like a long, tortured lifetime telling us that we have to accept these cuts unflinchingly. Well, here’s YOUR perfect opportunity to lead by example!

And, after all we are ‘all in this together’, aren’t we Blackadder? Oops, I mean George.

Ah, Nick. There you are! No, I hadn’t forgotten about you. And neither has anyone else. Your Anakin to Darth ID change took us all so much by surprise. I have to say I’m a little disappointed in you.

But there is still a way for you, too, to belatedly serve the interests of the people of the country. Not by doing the Dave and George head dance, mind you. After all, two’s company, three’s a (happy) crowd. In your case, I’d let the people decide.

Ballots would be posted to every household in the country, outlining a uniform series of choices for an eventual reckoning with you. Many of the details need to be ironed out, but here’s my thinking for your eventual fate thus far.

A) You could be shrink wrapped to Ann Widdecombe and then thrown in a locked broom closet.

B) A live, televised event where you are catapulted, face first, into a very large brick wall.

C) You could be made to sit through One Direction concerts on an endless loop for all eternity.

D) They employ you as a slightly more popular replacement for Jeremy Kyle.

I tend to go for Option C myself but, yes, I’m happy with a nationwide ballot. You should be, too. That’s democracy in action.

Anyway chaps, do let me know what you think. I know a good carpenter who can knock you up a cheap scaffold in no time. Pip, pip!!


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