5 Easy Steps to Become a Better Politician

“With the US Election Debates upon us, this 5-Easy-Step guide can help even the most pathetic politician of any nation make it to the megalomaniac zenith”

I’m a politician. The meaning of this statement can differ wildly depending on the country in which you live. In the US it means you’re an insanely rich, disingenuous toupée with magnificent teeth. In the UK it means you’re a moderately loaded invertebrate with a face like a potato. And in Syria it means you’re a mass-murdering oligarch with a United Nations bless … sorry, ‘veto’ from Russia. Wherever you are though, your aspirations will inevitably lay far beyond your grubby little grasp. With these five simple steps you can retain your treasured ‘seat’ of ill-gotten power and nurture your megalomaniacal delusions until you have to nip out the back door and totter off to live the rest of your days writing your memoires from a non-extradition country or, for the particularly adept, private tax haven in the Caribbean. Join us on the next five steps of the rest of your life.


#1 “I met a needy person today”

‘An unfortunate’/ ‘a pleb’/ ‘a sole-turd’, however you want to term them they are ultimately ‘votes’ and that, I waste no time reminding you, is the necessary evil of diplomacy. But don’t fret, the masses are as malleable as Moose-Cheese and nothing gets the proletariat shifting like an affectionate homage to one of their own. A single working mum with three kids; an honest hard-working nurse; or a teacher with 42 students in his class, some forced to sit on the floor, are all prime candidates for tweaking the country’s heart-strings. Believability is key, though. Putting 60 kids into a shanty hut in Birmingham strains credulity for even the most hard-line of right-wingers; except Newt Gingrich. Providing your encounter is generic and believable the audience will lap it up. But for god’s sake don’t use specific names. We all saw what happened to McCain and Joe the Plumber.

#2 “I’ll tell you what I won’t do”

Excellent diversion and spin tactic, this one. When some bottom-feeding journalist type asks you for specifics about ‘what you’re going to do when you get into government,’ thank them for the question, and tell them exactly what you’re not going to do; which as it happens, is exactly what your opponent is going to do. “But how do I know what my opponent’s plans are?!” your jowls are probably warbling over a mouthful of buttered baby. Don’t worry, nobody expects you to actually go researching your nemesis’ intents!! That’d be absurd! No, just think up something you know the public won’t like – taxes always do the trick – stick a few numbers to it and Bob’s your estranged uncle in the Cayman Islands and Fanny’s his helpful wife with a bank account. There really couldn’t be anything simpler. Well, other than joining the Old Boy’s club if you’re an Etonian of course.


#3 Numbers!

Speaking of numbers, this area seems tricky but is actually very simple. You see, 28% of the public don’t have the time to fact-check your numbers; 70% of the public don’t care; and 2% can’t count! But, ironically, attacks of the wrong-doings of your opposite half without numbers are just airy-fairy hypotheses. The public likes numbers. They’re warm and fuzzy and easy to regurgitate down the pub. Everybody believes numbers and, if they don’t, well, just keep repeating them. If you say that your opponent wants to raise taxes by 2.7% – which will entail a 1.3% reduction in food for the elderly and a 1.4% reduction in oxygen for the lower classes – and if you repeat it often enough on as many news channels as possible, he’ll soon become “2.7% Terrorist Terry” who wants to dry out anybody earning less than 20k a year and use them as an alternative source of energy. Simple!

#4 “I’m a family man”

Nobody likes a womaniser. You might not think you’re one but that’s just because your PA holds the numbers of all your mistresses and your ‘Toy-Boy-Tuesday’ fixer on his iPad. Again, not judging, but the public will and, for this reason, we need to get your family on the scene. Holiday snaps work ok if you’re somewhere everybody the population at large can afford to go but, let’s face it, who wants to spend their holidays sat on a beach in Weymouth? No, better to bring them on stage somewhere; at a party conference, for example. That way, if there are a few of them, you can line them up in matching outfits to show how virile you are. If you’re loins aren’t so bountiful, or if matrimonial copulation makes you balk, just put little bow-ties/pink dresses on them to signify their purity as a result of your excellent parenthood. Just be sure to put your wedding ring back on before the photographs.


#5 Platitudes with a capital ‘P’

In the end you should aim to talk for as long as you can without giving any substantial meaning to a word you say. Imagine giving journalists a diet of water and air; as a politician what you say should have as much calorific content as a methane fart. You believe in a better country; your aim is to unite your country; you want to graft a moral backbone down the centre of your country and be there to scratch the places it can’t reach! Anything you say has to sound inspirational but mean squat. If you start bandying around policy promises before you’re in power you’re going to have a lot to answer for when you finally get there and see the confidential papers that tell you they’re f*cking impossible!

There you have it. Follow these simple steps, keep your mouth shut when advised and push out the family when in need of the evangelical vote. If however, you decide to continue your debauched lifestyle and you get caught; this conversation never happened and you will be stricken from the party’s roller deck until somebody comes along who’s worse than Nick Griffin.

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