Margaret Thatcher - the Truth

Editorial Note: Asym42 is currently indisposed with irrational urges to marry all of the BBC female newsreaders, except the ugly one who does the local news for the south-east, and set up a commune with them in the country, where they can live in peace and harmony, like the Waltons only with a lot more sex. This blog entry has been contributed by the 'Office Space' resident social and economic affairs correspondent, General Sir Rupert Harrumph-Barp.


Good evening.

Our proud nation can boast some of the greatest leaders in history. Names such as Wellington, Disraeli, Churchill, Thatcher. Of these, Margaret Thatcher definitely had the most attractive breasts, and was certainly rumoured to be an absolute panther in the bedroom department. But how many of us knew the whole truth about this remarkable woman, this 'Iron Lady'?

Few people know, for instance, about her wilderness years, when, as a young women, she was forced to work as a topless barmaid in Kabul. It was there that she fell in love with General Motors, the local warlord, who took her away to his hill top fortress and showered her with gifts. Tragically for young Margaret, Motors was killed when a grand piano fell on his head. The CIA denied all knowledge, but it was well known that Washington had hired Warner Brothers as technical advisers for covert operations, together with the ACME company for the supply of explosives, rocket back-packs and long lengths of rubber.

Margaret fled Kabul in tears, disguised as a nun. Later, she arrived in Paris, disguised as a go-go dancer. After spending a few weeks on the South Bank, disguised as a cheap street walker, the sort who take your damned money and then run like hell, the bitch, she met and fell in love with Eduard D'rigible, inventor of the airship and captain in the French Police. It was he who taught the young and confused girl how to love again. It was he who took her to all the police balls, where Margaret's eyes were opened. She had never known such balls. They were big, sumptuous, proud. Later, she said: “You don't know balls until you've seen a French policeman's balls.”

Tragically, however, Eduard was killed when he slipped on a banana skin, fell into a manhole and then a grand piano fell on his head. Once again the CIA denied any involvement.

Heartbroken, Margaret returned to her native Britain, where she became Prime Minister. Bitter, twisted, with a loathing for grand pianos and roadrunner cartoons, she presided over the 1980's which was, of course, a golden age of big hair and strange clothes. Margaret Thatcher – we salute you.