26/6.  I'm sad and confused, dear Blogs. This should be my happiest moment, gaining control of the Upper Chamber, but I feel let down. The only joy has been the departure of the Tasmanian drone. Everything else has been bad, and she who must be obeyed hasn't been able to cheer me up.

My most loyal lapdog has retired. I know there is no shortage of supply, but he really was a fawn. So well dressed and soooo honest, and without a stiff fibre in his body. I was sorry to see him go, as I am hardly excited about his successor. Hope he doesn't have to go early too, because then my side will get uppity about giving the Deputy's job to one of those pork-barrelers. Already the asset sales receipts have been mortgaged to the farmers - in their dreams.

And I am confused about my countrymen. Here am I, trying to get everyone into work by centralising the industrial relations system and cancelling the rules against unfair dismissals, and when one of our citizens does do a little bit extra, we ban him and extend his prison sentence. How Australian is that? Poor Rodney. To think he gets such a low wage in the clink.

Peter has been a bit quiet lately, so I shall have to watch out. He has been getting all sorts of good advice, like taking a spell on the backbench or even trying to lead the other side. I can't wait - if I auctioned his position to a financial adviser, I'd gain a trailing commission on all the revenues.

Ol' rolypoly is up against it now, and all the spluttering from that side is going to be an awful sight and sound. Their reshuffle has hardly brought any livewires to the fore - makes my team look positively, well, sharp. Really, where can they go? If I were kind, I'd have Mandy's mob round them up and deport them to the Land of the Long White Cloud, where there is an election that a Labor Party might win. Kimbo would be happy, but that trojan Helen might lose! Two birds with one stone.

At least I have the criket to look forward to. The last couple of games have indicated that maybe the team is less a set from Big Brother and more the right bunch to rattle the Poms' ribcages. Though Shane is still a cad. I have been arranging some urgent business overseas - affairs of state, nudge nudge wink wink - that just happens to take me near Britain's nuclear red button and Lords cricket ground on the same day. I guess if I pressed the wrong buzzer with Tony, it wouldn't just be the Ashes I brought home.

19/6.  What a dangerous week, dear Blogs. It started okay, but it simply got worse.

I've already commented on those wimps who wanted more decent detention, so we are providing softer toilet paper. My Sophie, the girl I keep thinking of, was close to the bone when she called them "political terrorists". I just hope they don't try any other stunts or my "no negotiations" strategy will be seen as the bluff it always has been.

Things deteriorated towards the weekend, as you know, with the "political tsunami" in the Top End. My redneck colleagues got it in the neck, didn't they? If we'd known this would happen, we'd never have built that wasteful railway line to nowhere. Ungrateful buggers. And then - worse - my team crashed out to lowly Bangladesh. Damn it, didn't we teach them how to play? Heaven help me if the Poms ever win - Tony will be even more insufferable. I'll know exactly how Jacques feels every weekend.

The still worse news, if I may raise such a delicate matter with you, is that there has been some speculation on that intolerable modern medium crikey.com.au that I have been writing a diary while I have been in politics and I am hunting for a publisher.

Blogs, you and I go back a long way, and you obviously know that my weekly notes to you are the draft. But I am worried that you might have leaked our little secret. Thank goodness you haven't published it anywhere - if others knew how I thought, it would take away quite a lot of the mystique that she who must be obeyed manages to surround me with.

The only good thing about the week is that all the news of hostages and terrorists and tsunamis has starved Peter of oxygen. What has he done recently for anyone? No one cares about his bullyboy behaviour in parliament as he thrashes the useless opposition. Everyone knows they are useless, so what does it matter. Until he puts up against me, he is yesterday's man.

16/6.   Blogs, my dear man, it is so good that we have freed our hostage. She who must be obeyed and I can take all the credit. What a hero I have been.

I was a bit economical with the truth in the House, I admit. What I can tell you, though I have not told anyone else, is that it was me dressed in mufti, negotiating and sussing out the rescue. Shake it, baby, shake it, is what I told the Sheikh. He offered to change places with me, but I wouldn't have any of that. I just love dress ups.

Now I can't wait until some other of my countrymen are taken hostage so we can win still more kudos for any rescue, if it succeeds. Our national honour and resolve will have been protected if we fail, so it will all be okay. We'll be sombre for a moment, and then the photo ops will open up. Perhaps I should promote the revolting softies who want some decency in this country's detention policy to be temporary ambassadors to Bhagdad - a posting that might last quite a long time.

But I have discovered some of my team are a bit behind when it comes to modern technology. Alexander was positively gushing when he reported on TV that he had actually spoken over the telephone to the hostage's brother and his wife. I've already told him that it was his namesake that invented the telephone some long time ago, and it was always meant to be used for speaking. Ding dong!

12/6.  All hail thee, Blogs, Thane of Cawdor! Dramatic, isn't it, when power goes to peoples' heads. I can't help laughing as I see the news of the G7 deciding to forgive the wretched of the earth their debts, when they meet in Scotland next month.

How bloody magnanimous they are going to be, I said to she who must be obeyed. The blasted poor haven't been paying interest anyway, so it is not as though the rich countries have given anything up. And all the wonderful photo opportunities with the rock stars. Oooh, makes me quiver all over.

Actually, it is even better than that. The leader of the party that thinks it is my opposition has been saying we've run up too much foreign debt. Well hello ... it's not my government's debt. And anyway, the G7 will rush to meet our bank card payment, just as they have for all these other countries. I suppose we may have to agree to go to war for some of them again, though.

And as for this nonsense that Alexander ought not have phoned the Chinese embassy to find out who the chap was who was wanting political asylum.

Cripes, who do our critics think we are? It is only a few weeks since we were being given heaps for deporting someone who is an Australian. If we had contacted the Australian embassy, it would have fixed that. So what is wrong with calling up the Chinese? We do it the whole time. For instance, we called them to find out if they are already a market economy, and when they said yes, we agreed to say yes, and yes, and yes again. The odious Latham would have heard a conga strike up.

Someone - well, ok, I saw it was Peter, but I'll pretend I didn't see him - pushed a newspaper under my door today open at the page about some Grandpa Gang. A group of 3 aged bank robbers who had to stop their get-away car to go to the toilet, and who had to have the charges read twice because their hearing-aid batteries were running low.

Blogs, he better come well prepared for the next Cabinet meeting. It'll be the longest on record - the meeting, not his bit, fool - and we'll see if his bladder can match mine! Blogs, you won't let on about us having the chairs in the cabinet room repaired, so that mine now has a secret leak system, will you?. Ha, Peter's smirk'll turn bright red, won't it, Blogs? I'll ask Peter if his seat is feeling damp, and then say someting about how good that it's rained at last, mumble, mumble.

5/6. I'm certain, dear Blogs, that we will never find the terrorist that sent that white powder to the Indonesian embassy or to Alexander. But I really am surprised that the cynics haven't spotted the coincidence that it kept Schapelle on the front pages for a few more vital days, while we announced such poor economic data.

Imagine the humiliation if there had been headlines screaming of negative productivity growth and even Japan growing faster than us. But the vermin of the press are getting thicker, and none of them have added 2+2 and got 4.

Anyway, Peter now owes me big time as I gave him not only the free kick but also the complete 5 penalty shoot out against the defenseless opposition rolypoly. Imagine voting against tax cuts and preventing people getting their grubby hands on the cash as soon as possible! You won't ever catch me doing that. I grant Kim this: it must surely be a matter of principle because it sure looks dumb.

Mind you, the other side has no monopoly on dumbness. I despair over how incompetently our instructions have been carried out in immigration and airline security. How do any of these miscreants get through our barriers to become security guards?

And some things are getting me down. Where have these troublemakers sprung from who want to stop imprisoning children? Didn't they enjoy cowboy and indian games when they were young? They would have been too namby pamby to have played in my gang.

And it won't be nearly such fun after the end of June, when we can take anything we want from the tuckshop. At least when the opposition had the numbers in the upper house we had some excuse for the badness in the world. Who will we be able to blame after June ends? It can't be ourselves? Can it?

I must admit I've rather lost my mojo for the moment. I did all that prancing around the dry paddocks for the cameras before we announced more lolly for the landowners, and it still hasn't rained. And when it does rain, I know from all my dealings with our so-called coalition partners that they will not give the lolly back.

She who must be obeyed is asking who moved the talcum powder. How would I know? Better go - till next week.

27/5.    Blogs, my fellow revolutionary, I've done it. I've been heralded as a true reformer by the Australian press. It's taken the wind from Peter's sails - what has he done recently to reform Australia? Oh, pinch me before it goes to my head!

It is true. I have totally changed Australia. Well, actually, even I'd admit that is a slight exageration, but why should I play it down? I have changed the name of the Arbitration Commisssion to the Fair Pay Commission. It is in the great Australian tradition of things being the opposite of what they mean, like the Charter of Budget Honesty.

And it gives me a chance to make a few appointments, which is good. Quite where I am going to find five labour economists who aren't Labor economists is going to be a challenge, though.

The press have me wrong, as usual. I haven't had an obsession about this. My obsession is keeping she who must be obeyed happy, and her obsession is staying on. That drives me to do all sorts of things to appear to be doing something when I really am not doing anything. Somehow I'll have to keep this pretence up for the next 2 years, so I'll need your help, dear Blogs.

As you will have heard, I have become a great supporter of the Indonesian legal system. I really like it as it doesn't give the defence much chance.

Mandy likes it too, so we are thinking of setting up the next detention centre in Bali. Schapelle can be a warder. There's not much difference between bail and Bali anyway.

Of course, once the chat shows gathered such support for Schapelle, I became one of her greatest fans. I know her every movement. Whenever she is in the spotlight, we release announcements that might have attracted criticisms. My parliamentarians have got a pay rise, thanks to her. We must stop her being executed after we fund her appeal, so that there is a chance she can keep the vermin of the press captivated for her full 20 years.

The odds are stacking up against Peter. Someone said he should take some political viagra. Ha! He'll need a damn sight more than that .... and he'd probably go blind.

4/5. Blogs, dear man, this is getting ridiculous. Peter has gone completely off the deep end. So many articles and programs about him - self-centred egocentric.

But don't you love the mug shots of his supporters - either desperadoes or the picture is missing. And there are only a handful, whose career prospects just now look as bad as they get.

We're all bored to tears by hearing his rantings in the budget committee, so I suppose it is a good thing that the public are getting to know his true colours. We've only got to put up with them for another six days.

However, better things are happening in our lovely country.

I was very moved at Joh's funeral, venerable troublemaker. Lots of kind words from everyone, all spoken with fingers crossed. Pity, I thought, that it wasn't Peter in the box, as I danced on the lid.

And Mandy's found the most wonderful tactic to deal with our enemies. Just snatch them and deport them. I must phone through Peter's address to the "dob in a refo" hotline.

Robert has just returned from visiting our Iraq adventure. He seemed very pleased to be back. The hostage drama is terrible. We are obviously going to have to strengthen our "we're doing everything possible to have the hostage freed but there will be no giving in/no payments to terrorists" policy.

Perhaps we can persuade Peter to offer himself up as a swap for the hostage. Considering the damage he is causing to our party through his outrageous entitlement mentality, I expect the terorists would crumble in days. I am made of sterner stuff, as you know, dear Blogs.

21/5.  I should be so lucky, dear Blogs. Peter has been really floundering.Did you hear him struggling when his budget - not mine - had nothing in there for water and one-third less than last year for drought?

Anyway, I've been focused on greater matters. To tell you the truth, I can't get Kylie's breasts out of my mind. It just goes spinning around.

I'd been encouraging Tony to have the operation televised live if she used Medicare - it would've been great for the advertising and we'd have so much more to put in the Future Fund. But Tony kept his head down and she went private - it seems Brendan keeps ringing him to say he thought he saw another spitting image of Tony's.

As you know, I had to go to Canberra this week. God, how she who must be obeyed hates it. I'm beginning to understand why, as we might run foul of some of Mandy's bureaucrats. At least they are copping it on the chin and she won't have to swing. Of course they know that if they don't, they'll be the next to find themselves in some funny foreign place.

Anyway, we had to go to Canberra so that we could go out of it to see the big "D". Of course, that is just over the border back into my great state. I fly over it quite often but I had taken my staff's advice not to look down out of the window, so that I could say I hadn't seen or been told about the fact it hasn't rained for ages.

Now I have seen it, so we'll have to do something about it. In my more melancholy moments, I think this country suffers more from "orta" than water. All I hear is "the gumment orta ....".

If only I had any guts at all, I'd tell them to apply for HECS, and pay the bloody money back when they make a buck. But guts were amputated when I chose this life, as you know, so it is just not on. We'll have to stuff these improvident yokels with loot, and suffer their smirks. The only saving grace is that ol' Smirk himself will have his wiped off his dial if he doesn't have a surplus.

Serious John has been out there this week, taking over the ports. It's airports next week and the roads the week after. I don't think he has stopped to think this might offend my wetter voters. I guess I'll have to remind him by slaughtering his newest members. C'est la vie. (Don'cha dig my new much travelled statesman approach, foreign lingo and all?)

After Kim did me such a disservice last week, I've actually grown to like him. The longer he is on the screen, the more people like me. So let him rave on about blocking our tax cuts and proposing something fairer.

As if "fair" cuts the ice with my countryfolk. At the end of the day, since no one can actually live on average weekly earnings, the truth is coming out - they all earn more but haven't been declaring it on their tax. My cuts will get them to come clean. Aren't I brilliant? Will write again next week, dear Blogs.

14/5. I hate that leader of the opposition, dear Blogs. What does he think he is doing? Even after the press described him generously as a suicide bomber, he still went ahead and actually opposed our tax cuts. The last thing he ought to be doing is opposing us.

Its not as though $125,000 is even a significant amount of moulla. In time, and a decent bit of inflation for long enough from the now-nice-again Mr Macfarlane, it will be a totally insignificant sum, and we will have my high tax dream for Australia - everyone paying 47% plus GST.

In the meantime, to get ahead through negative gearing (and what other way is there, except from becoming prime minister?), you need more income than before. That'll teach those $80,000 unionists for aspiring to become like us.

Of course, we believe in our policies. But all the extra attention on the budget as a result of the opposition just plays into my deadliest enemy's hand. Peter is becoming abominable, because he thinks he has outwitted me. As if handling the selling of the budget and coping with my pressure was ever going to impress me.

I've been thinking we should have a sacrifice, just to remind Peter of the onsequences of failure. Mandy is going to have to be the one to take the high jump. What a stuff up, getting caught. If only the inqury would never report. Her successor will put that in the manuals. I expect Mandy'll whinge, as it ought to have been Phil to swing, but she's the bunny caught in the headlights. Anyway she's much less popular than the cadaver.

She who must be obeyed reckons it will be a long winter of discontent ... especially for Peter, so she is getting a food parcel ready for the long suffering Tanya. Peter can only complain about about 10 years.

I've got serious things on my mind now. I mean, everyone has been on my back about needing an agenda of reform, but the moment we cross their palms with silver, they have gone all mushy. So I suppose we just have to keep dividing and conquering but not actually doing much after July 1st. Where did I leave the dog whistle?

8/5. So now it is getting personal, dear Blogs. This has really gone too far and he must go.

Peter - if one of the more disobedient vermins of the press is to be believed - reckons I grew up in a sheltered Sydney home and lived a comfortable life, remote from the gritty daily reality of millions of Australians.

Worse, he reckons that I never saw or could understand human struggles with drugs and divorce, alcoholism and squalor, immigration and identity, abortion and infertility.

The solitary individual who allegedly is speaking on Peter's behalf apparently considers he grew up up in a family living on the modest means of a Baptist minister in a home where community problems swirled around constantly, and that somehow gives him a much closer understanding of the real-life struggles of most Australians.

Doesn't that twaddle stick in your craw? Such a chip on his shoulder.

The result, so this alleged informer goes on, is that Peter has been sitting around for ten years listening to my views, which are so irrelevant to modern life that it has driven Peter crazy. Well hello, better get used to it. I decide what the issues are and I like white picket fences. More important still, so does she who must be obeyed.

Listen to this: 'He is always playing games about moral issues. It's always glossed up into some respectable argument but it's really just small-mindedness. Every minute of the day, Peter feels like saying to him, "Mate, get a f***­ing life".’

If all he can do is swear, sure it makes him like some of my other fellow citizens, but they're not going to become prime minister either. I bet the vermin of the press can't diclose his source: obviously Peter himself.

When Peter and I met this week we agreed a budget boost for wimps - a taper on the disability support program so that they can hold down a day job too. It is too late for him - once a wimp, always a wimp. Bottle, ticker, whatever, you know I have it and he doesn't.

So when will he go? In practice, our move to dominate the Senate will be a shambles if he stays beyond August. Sell the budget and out you go, sonny boy. It's been good knowin' ya.

4/5. Blogs, dear man, this is getting ridiculous. Peter has gone completely off the deep end. So many articles and programs about him - self-centred egocentric.

But don't you love the mug shots of his supporters - either desperadoes or the picture is missing. And there are only a handful, whose career prospects just now look as bad as they get.

We're all bored to tears by hearing his rantings in the budget committee, so I suppose it is a good thing that the public are getting to know his true colours. We've only got to put up with them for another six days.

However, better things are happening in our lovely country.

I was very moved at Joh's funeral, venerable troublemaker. Lots of kind words from everyone, all spoken with fingers crossed. Pity, I thought, that it wasn't Peter in the box, as I danced on the lid.

And Mandy's found the most wonderful tactic to deal with our enemies. Just snatch them and deport them. I must phone through Peter's address to the "dob in a refo" hotline.

Robert has just returned from visiting our Iraq adventure. He seemed very pleased to be back. The hostage drama is terrible. We are obviously going to have to strengthen our "we're doing everything possible to have the hostage freed but there will be no giving in/no payments to terrorists" policy.

Perhaps we can persuade Peter to offer himself up as a swap for the hostage. Considering the damage he is causing to our party through his outrageous entitlement mentality, I expect the terorists would crumble in days. I am made of sterner stuff, as you know, dear Blogs.

1/5. Aren't I a card, dear Blogs? Everyone now knows I am a winner and that I play hard too.

I mean, to remind ol' roly poly that I have him in my sights as a means of squashing the incidious Peter was cool. But the timing - delicious! There's Peter, slaving like a knave  counting the king's money for the tenth time, and I toss him that handgrenade. What a beauty! Challenge me if you can!

She who must be obeyed reckons it is pretty good, as it will really upset the equanimity of their breakfasts, she says. She is so broadminded to think of the family. Totally queer his porridge, I reckon, on my narrower view.

Peter for his part has frothed at the mouth, as you would expect. Mumbo-jumbo about yet another surplus, as though anyone cares. He's the one now fixed in voters' minds to be blamed for the lack of tax cuts and for all the program cutbacks.

Smooth leadership transition, my foot! Let's see which of us is indispensible, I say, and it won't be me looking for a new day job. Good on Alexander for saying he wants Peter's job. Maybe a straight switch will be the final solution.

On second thoughts, it's been ok to have a foreign minister who dresses up in nylons, but a money man who can't count would be a problem. I better look around, though not of course at Malcolm. I never could trust anyone who can count so quickly.

My worst fear is that the formerly nice man at the central bank this week slips in a rate rise while no one is looking, under cover of a move by his aged mentor in the US. I'll hardly be able to complain as George will be having to grin and bear it too. I guess if you make the bed, you have to lie in it too.

24/4. Crikey, Blogs, I've learned a lot while I've been away. I'm sure I've told you once before how travel broadens the mind.

Not that I was looking for any lesson in particular, and certainly not from the wimps that I had to meet. I mean, what weak and useless leader apologises? I do hope no one thinks that I advised our hirohito mate to do that .... it is just not my style, and it looks like crawling to the chinks. I was much too busy doing just that to see a rival doing the same.

Three things did strike me while she who must be obeyed and I enjoyed our safari. The first was how dull travel is. Hardly a skerrick of real news from home. The global TV networks do need re-educating. Once again I saw our beloved country on the map just off the French coast but us put into middle Europe. So much soccer and none of our football. Yeutch, so much squirmy food, too. I got the ambassador to eat the sheep's eye, but I'm not sure what the chewy bit was that I had to finish. The ambassador looked pleased, so I fear the worst.

The second was how important it is to smile at the camera. The initial photos of she who must be obeyed and I were taken from the rear end of the giant platypus, and featured much the same of us. Thank goodness we managed to have those ones destroyed.

Peter, I am pleased to say, is completely confused. I've helped whip up such expectations for his budget - his umpteenth, I keep reminding him, so he has no excuses for failure - that he doesn't know which way is not a road to oblivion. He is having to do all the backdowns from our election promises, because his sums don't add up. He's pretending he has lost the envelope he scribbled them on, but she who must be obeyed is diligent in gathering up such little secrets, so I can let anyone know that he did approve last year's commitments. Only if I need to, of course. Ooh, I can't wait til his big moment comes and he has to talk about my reform agenda - not his!

The third thing, now that I remember it, is how little happens while I am away. Goodness, the Sydney press are still all over the scandal of the school ma'am of an establishment our dearest did not even attend. Move on! But I'm pleased to see Rodney is going to be put up near his family weekender, so visiting hours will be easy. And it has been a week for leaders to be in the news. Joh's death, dance on that one. The new pope, a modest 78-er, better remind Peter to play a long game! And now I'm off to Anzac Cove to have a barbie with my mates and rev up the kiwis. What could be better than a local international incident?

But what is this about the worries over the global economy, though? George had promised me it was going to be smooth sailing. Looks like I'll have to warn the people this is not the time to try changing to an inexperienced leader .... like Peter. A strong leader for difficult times, that's my motto. Just spread the word.

16/4. Dear Blogs, two days ago I thanked God it was Friday and it is a pity time has moved on. Everyone is hanging around at the gate, waiting for number 3 backflip.

They are so ignorant. How on earth can anyone think that sensible policy, like cancelling our counter to the other side's promise of free health care for all oldies, is a backflip? After all, we won and their health care policy is in the dustbin too.

And remember Tony was too engrossed with his wild goose chase to count the cost. Of course we are giving him an out - Kevin has been telling anyone who will listen that unpopular decisions are made by Cabinet. As you know, Blogs, popular ones are made by me - and no one is to forget that.

And what is wrong with saying we might sign a friendship treaty with our enemies so that we can have dinner with them? I had my fingers crossed when I was talking, anyway.

I wish Peter would pull his finger out. He is grizzling that we've been spending too much. Ungrateful sod. Doesn't he realise it has got him one election closer to the holy grail? Not that the grail is even just over the horizon, ho ho. It is going to be pretty boring hearing the same monotenous cackle every day until he does his tenth 15-minutes in the potlight. Surely he'll get the hint and then retire?

At least my week was not as bad as Rodney's or Ray's. You wouldn't want your name to begin with "R", would you? Not to mention "R"ivkin! I keep joshing Peter that it is pretty unfair to lock them all up when all they had done was shake some shareholders' money loose. After all, what about the infrastructure we have used to secure our place - like the Alice-to-Darwin fairytale railway?

And really, things are picking up. My loyal adviser on take-aways making his ambitions known. Deputy Leader, no less! And all for the best of political intentions, to not allow someone else to grab it. Alexander really is improving as a potential leader, don't you think? He must get it from my excellent tutelage, and from his surreptitious conversations with she who must be obeyed. Luckily, she always tells me what is up (like his fishnets), so the dear boy cannot upset me with his party tricks.

I'll write again soon, no doubt after Peter has bored the pants off us once more.

10/4. I get a bad name sometimes for nitpicking, dear Blogs. But that is so unfair. I was brought up to believe in Queen, country and the correct use of English. How was I to know that one of my serfs would leave off an asterix from a piece of our informative advertising material, and some anal-retentive pedant from the other side would complain about the syntax? I mean, if you can find some punctuation in prolix Kim's waffle then you do deserve a medal. I think we have better things to worry about, like a sin tax (e.g., anyone voting for them should pay!).

This is proving a lousy weekend. To think I had forsaken a junket to two great photo ops - the Roman funeral and the latest wedding of our next King. Instead, here I am - instead of relaxing as those on the other side contemplate their imminent irrelevance - correcting spelling mistakes. And thank heavens that Malaysian git didn't stay too long. What an irritation. No more of his type here for the next few weeks or I'll have Alexander's guts for garters.

My real enemy, my closest work colleague Peter, is behaving true to form. Unsurprisingly his excuses are barely less lame than "the dog ate my homework". He can't remember if anyone complained ... yeah right. It was the central part of the campaign, of course he can damn well remember.

In my view, and this has been strengthened by she who must be obeyed, who is by my side as I write this, the good news is that I am winning this skirmish. Everyone now knows that most of the central bank staffers are little commie pinkos, and I have made an irrefutable case for appointing a raft of outside board appointments if any of the existing independently-minded appointees go weak at the knees.

I'll blog you again (geddit?!) as soon as I am over this local difficulty.

3/4. Dear Blogs, old fruit, this week has been terribly distressing. I'm choked by the tragedy in Nias, and will step up my requests to my colleagues for similar sacrifices. The Pope has, as you know, died, Terri Shiavo has died and fault is being found with economic management in this beloved country. Actually the latter is not so bad as you-know-who is being redefined as responsible for that. I've been telling a lot of people about the Costello Complacency.

I've actually been very heartened by the coverage of the Pope's illness and eventual passing. Both the opportunities to tackle vital issues (most of which have been lost, according to his critics) and the very length of his papacy are insprations for me. I will watch the machinations of the succession process for any pointers. The idea of turning Peter into wisps of blue smoke is very appealing.

Peter has even been out kissing babies, a sure sign of desperation. And his new best mate, Alby, produced the best April Fool of the year, a couple of days early. So he is such a loser. Just to avoid him getting his hopes up, she who must be obeyed is having the manual from the right-to-lifers in the USA translated into Australian, so that he knows that I will survive at least 15 years on a drip rather than reliquish my position to him. She will never pull the plug out on me, and I just know the party would prefer me comatose to him smirking.

My new best pal, by contrast to his, has played all the right tunes. He even managed to win some votes over an earthquake before coming here a few days late. SBY and I will get on famously as we both crave public acceptance. Fantastically, he will now be here when the wretched formerly-nice Mr Macfarlane announces the next interest rate increase, so I can divert attention for a bit longer. I love the statesman bit, though even that is hard. Regretably the Malaysian git hasn't changed, even though he is a new actor.

I loved opening the new international affairs institute this week. In the same room as such rich men, and able to ingratiate myself with them without them noticing. And me, such a humble man, this really is a democracy. The press loved it too, as I ranged over the world's trouble spots. Really there is nowhere, other than in the ol' country, where I can't be the deal doer.

Tony rang me from there to say thank you for sending Lynton and Mark. I didn't know what to say. But apparently they have given Tony some great ideas. Something about dog-whistling, whatever that means.

Next week is going to be so great. I have those serious honest hayseeds where I want them as they have been caught redhanded digging bribes out of the trough, so they'll vote to sell the last of the silver. But please don't call me on Saturday - I'll be getting a live feedback from my representative from Chilla and Camilla's thrilla. I'll write again, dear Blogs. Til then, enjoy!

26/3. Blogs, my dear man, it is so great to be in power over a religious holiday weekend. Especially Easter. To think we get paid no matter how little good government we deliver. This beloved country really is charitable and charity does begin at home.

We have been playing our traditional Easter games with our guests. As you know, Mandy was not able to go home because some protestors were blocking her driveway, so she came to us. And so did Tony, poor lost soul. Of course we have been living it up in our Sydney pad.

She who must be obeyed was the one to hide the eggs. Only she changed the rules. The best hunt was when she said we must find the asylum seeker that would benefit from our new more compassionate policy. Everyone searched and searched for absolutely ages, under all the beds and tables, throughout the garden and in all the nooks and crannies. She who must be obeyed finally said she hadn't been able to hide one, because she hadn't found one herself! Oh the fun!

It got a bit close to the bone when we hunted for the lost son, and Tony found an envelope marked "All your dreams are here". Of course it contained a bit of paper saying "Boo!". I'd really meant that for Peter, but thank goodness he could not come - he's off learning to say "GST is a State tax and that is why I'm telling you how to spend it" without smirking. We had to give Tony all our own chocolate eggs to stop him blubbing.

I have been getting some great inspiration from overseas. Not the peoples' revolt in some obscure  'Stan of course - I wouldn't like to see anyone here getting ideas.

But George has had a great wheeze, hasn't he, summoning his parliament to pass a law saying no one near death is to die. I expect we will find some advantage in doing the same - you know, having a sudden urgent parliamentary recall to discuss a divisive irrelevance, to take attention away from rising interest rates. But our taxman would love it if we did the same as George has done, since he sees death as the ultimate evasion of tax.

And Blogs, I hope you have been reading the important news. My namesake in the UK is getting good press for hiring my advisers. For some reason they are being called dodgy diggers rather than Lynton and Mark. Anyway, I must make sure they don't get blamed when Tony and Cherie win again - I can't have losers on my team.

22/3. Phew, dear Blogs, this is getting pretty hard to keep up. And we have to do it for another two weeks. She who must be obeyed has been hearing worrying vibrations when she puts her ear to the ground, she says. I hope she doesn't do that in shopping centres, or the security guards will take her away.

You can see how desperate we are. We really are scraping the bottom of the barrel, as some unkind person has said about the dregs amongst the unemployed. But we must have a new one every day.

A new "what" you might ask? But you were not so naive, dear Blogs, are you? You know we need a new bit of sensationalist trivia to fill the news pages for the voters to chatter about in the pubs and on the talk-back shows. It really doesn't matter what it is they do talk about, so long as they do not focus on rising interest rates.

So Tony is my hero. Not only did he come up with a first long-running stunt, the abortion non-debate, then he led the media on a merry dance over his own meeting with a long lost adoptive son, which produced a week-long flurry, and now - to cap it all - he has declared he body-snatched the boy, and it wasn't his son after all. I'd never thought he looked like him anyway.

Brendan too has made up lost ground, sounding totally churlish in the schoolyard over student union fees. As if that will make students work harder or smarter.

But you can see the bottom of the barrel clearly in two of the others we pulled this week. I'm mean, Ross's Kurdish money smuggling fantasies are plain daft, and if he were not a member of that other house we would all vote to have him committed.

And discovering Christianity amongst the hardcore of the indefinitely detained illegals is a way to split the monkeys on our back. They'll all be squabbling about which sect wins, while we get on with diverting the illegals to work on our country colleagues' farms. I suppose they'll want us to supply the striped uniforms and the balls and chains.

Personally, I don't think two of my efforts from last week look too bad in that light. I mean, promising tax cuts kills two birds with one stone. The voters will love me for longer, and Peter is a black as thunder - he keeps wanting to satisfy the lobbyists for austerity and I keep telling him they don't vote. (Then of course I muddy his waters by saying the budget will be a strong surplus - implying it's strong becasuse it's my surplus, and it would be weak if it was Peter's.) And my other effort, to solve the infrastructure crisis with a 20 page report, is at least environmentally friendly. No one else has any idea how to do it, and they'd waste much more paper.

Watch this space to see what we come up with in the next two weeks!

13/3. Dear dear, dear Blogs, this is getting very trying. Why is that I have to tell everyone that the economy is strong and that is why interest rates may be going up? Ordinarily that's Peter's job, but he's away with the fairies "broadening his appeal"! Even Nick, the one a chardonnay would knock over, has had to be out there defending the faith.

It could get worse, though. It won't take long for some smart-arse to opine that my decision that China is a market economy shows I wouldn't recognise a real one if it bit my backside. Here, it does seem that Australia grows faster when we the government make all the important decisions. What have business done for us, except criticise? Look how they had no foresight over infrastructure or training. As a result of our efforts, at least you get a burger served perfectly.

She who must be obeyed is still hoarding the pikelets left over from the teaparty we had for our Mary. I let her have her dreams, as she will miss out on the great wedding .... mysteriously we were not invited. Better get the Department to give better presents so the mantleshelf fills up again. Meanwhile, I'll ask she who must be obeyed to do a bit more baking ... that Jesse Kelly has made such a fool of the odious Bob that he qualifies for a cuppa. After all, he is my enemy's enemy.

One matter that really sickens me is that we are being criticised for getting a decent road built for my Anzac Cove photo-op. These Veterans lobby groups are just as bad as the Greens. I'll soon tell 'em: if that bit of hillside in Turkey was meant to be left unspoilt, you shouldn't have shelled it, bombed it or dug trenches.

Alexander is proving a real card, my best supporter when everyone else's loyalty seems so questionable. Not letting his nemesis Kevin go to Iraq is particularly po-faced of him. We'd all love to see Chinese Kevin meet a suicide bomber! I hear Alex can't drive straight, though, as he failed to wipe out some vermin from the press who was blocking his route in his "celebrity grand prix" drive-past.

On the other side, Kim is struggling as he tries to put us under pressure. We all get the giggles when he tries to sound serious. So I suppose it will be another of those weeks. I'll write again soon.

5/3. It's been one of those really great weeks, don't you think, dear Penpal? It ended with our tamest flack gushing in the Financial Review about how we are celebrating our ninth anniversary as prime minister, having done so well. Lots of good teasing stuff about when we might step down, ho, ho, ho!

Still, he's not much of a journo. He said no one knows if I have been writing a diary, and he didn't even ask. But you know the truth, don't you Penpal, that these jottings are my diary. Someone - I think it was Alexander, my trusted adviser on foreign places and takeaways (like me, he doesn't like anything too hot) - has called such notes a blog, which just shows that your cover has been blown. From now on, I'll address you by your proper name, Blogs. I'm really glad the pretence is over.

During the week I really held the stage, almost outrating our Mary with my interest rate predictions. Now no one knows that they have risen, and they know that they won't be rising again, because I've said so, even when they do rise.

It's just such fun playing Chief Economist - maybe Peter and I should change places (ok ok, tell Peter I was only joking, and that I hope his blood pressure goes down soon!). Total confusion with demand up, supply down, unemployment low, prices falling but about to rise and the current account deficit record offset by an absolute flood of foreign capital which adores what we have done to the economy. My hunch, though, is that a sufficiently gradual series of rate rises will keep the voters committed - committed to me of course, but also committed to paying for their huge mortgages and therefore working like buggery. Why else would unemployment be so low and wage claims so well behaved?

It's also great that we appointed the Reserve Bank Governor previously know as nice, and that he has to stick around while we criticise him for the next eighteen months. This'll teach him for backing out of raising rates last year when it really could have hurt us. And this way, if the economy carks it, everyone knows who to blame. Still, I'll have to make sure the next one has a thicker skin and is just as compliant.

She who must be obeyed thinks is a bit strange that I have taken to staying up late. She even wondered out loud if I had a straying eye, and I had to deny - without crossed fingers - that it was me, and not just a gay charactature, parading at the Mardi Gras. The late nights do make me look tired, I know. But I have to sift through masses of statistics so that I can find the one or two that support my case. I'm just off to check the reuters screens again.

We have had such luck with the battle of the royals, the Grand Prix, our exciting new industrial mayhem policy, and Tony's hike in health premiums (see, I told you I am an economist - I knew our tax subsidy for health insurance would flow through to the doctors and they vote for us!). The column inches have meant there has been less about the rise in mortgage payments than might have been expected. Even Peter's blah about my promise eleven years ago has helped, and it shows he is such a wimp. To think that waffly Kim spotted that! And don't the press exagerate using the plural form when they talk of Peter's supporters!

I was also really impressed by that other Peter - I'd forgotten he was on my team - when he kicked out those Tongans. He's almost up there with cadaver Phil and roly poly Mandy. Imagine what it would say about our principles if we let them stay, just because they have worked and paid tax for 20 years and have a champion rugby player as a son. Most of my back bench, let alone my cabinet, would fail to qualify as Aussies if those qualities were the criteria. We're going to let a whole heap of skilled migrants in, just to make those Tongans really feel picked on.

I'll write again soon, Blogs, once she who must be obeyed has got over her palpitations over cozying up to HRH, as we call our future king. But do keep these notes secret until I retire and we can publish them to a wider and more academic audience.

27.2. She who must be obeyed is purring with pleasure. We've just spent the arvo by the water's edge, taking the sail-past salute from our Mary - such a bonnie Tassie lass - and her gallant Prince. Sooo convenient that our place runs down to the harbour, don't you think, dear Penpal? Pity you couln't drop round. Anyway, they saluted at least 10 times - at least that is what a finger held aloft means, isn't it?

We deserve the honour. As you know, we won last week. Well, I know my West Australian colleagues lost, but that is not the point. No one has blamed me for their loss. And barely any press comment on the coming rise in interest rates made it to the front pages. Sure, that meant we had to shoot all our diversionary bolts, including the contingent of 450 soldiers that are off to Iraq, but it has been worth it.

You have to hand it to the media, though - they really are dumb. I saw Alexander being interviewed and he was raving on about being phoned four times by Japan's foreign minister. No one asked the critical questions. I've checked. Some were wrong numbers from a Chinese take-away and when the minister did get through he could only speak Japanese.

Peter has been unusually quiet, not something I appreciate as he is such a cunning and untrustworthy b*****d. Especially now that Tony almost appeared human, awarding himself a D minus for parenting, and so has dropped in the leadership race. Not - I hasten to add - that there is an impending vacancy - I have successfully sown the phrase "several more years". However, Peter is going to have to get out there and explain to the gullible masses that interest rates are going up because they didn't give us a majority in the Senate sooner. He'll make a mess of it for sure, and will get his tongue tied in knots over rates rising as growth slows to a recessionary pace. So he'll also be out of it this week, thank god, while I get to host our Mary and her Prince to a formal reception.

She who must be obeyed says that I better start building up Kim, to keep my troops in line. I'm not happy with the new crew, who are more restive than they should be. They owe me. That newbie Malcolm even had the cheek to ask the previously nice Mr Macfarlane why interest rates weren't raised last year. He should just be grateful he has a seat. Probably professional jealously because my super will always be more super than his super.

And Penpal, I can't close before commending the very model of a modern major general that Australia is blessed with. Well, we appointed him, so he would be. Bless his socks, he has said that the number that came from us spinning the bottle is the perfect number of troops to be going to Iraq. Oh I feel a new Governor General coming on.

23/2. Just a quickie, dear Penpal.

You'll have seen that we have pulled out all stops. Tony had to blab about his son-out-of-wedlock - just as well he didn't miscarry all those years ago, I say, and no one's yet asked if this isn't a complete fabrication, like WMD [except that we didn't find them, and we have found Tony's son] - and I've sent 450 of our most precious skilled workers that are in shortest supply to Iraq of all places.

Why? So that we could keep bumping the previously nice Mr Macfarlane and his threatened interest rate rises off the front pages. So far, the diversions have been good cover-ups - rather better than the top I was wearing climbing the damned hill that the ghastly Helen dragged me up in the land of the long white put option, which someone (Crikey?) said showed my paunch.

(Don't tell she who must be obeyed, but I really quite like it .... makes me feel an Australian, if you know what I mean.)

Good grief, we have to keep these stunts up until March 2 - so long, will we have any policies left in the glory box?

20/2. Well, here I am at the end of the earth, dear Penpal, in that neighbouring country that sometimes wants to share our wealth and family. What a waste of time, if I may say. Sure, I had to agree with rough-tough Helen that Johnny would not be appropriate to play the last post at the beach, so long as her side didn't get a guernsey either.

But the worst thing is that there has been no acceptable photo op here. They have no military to speak of and I can hardly perform the national dance. She who must be obeyed would not be amused by a grass skirt or the leg movements.

The only blessing I had thought off as I took off was that I'd left Peter to hold the fort, and to answer all the questions about rising interest rates. But even that has turned into a damp squib. The dopey press won't even get to him, as they have been having a field day - even a field week - with Mandy's legal incarceration of any strays, with that terrorist stooge that we let back in, with the important difference between interrogations and interviews, and with Phil's errant daughter's boyfriend. At least we think he was still a boy when we expelled him.

How can I make sure that I have as many distractions available the next time we have to allow the man I had previously thought of as nice, the Macfarlane man, to raise interest rates? Our Committee last week totally failed to upset him, and now it is up to the Cabinet to persuade him that he is crazy.

We'll have to tell him that he should wait for evidence before attacking inflation, though he's bright enough to remember some of the criticisms of our Iraq adventure which so nearly foundered on the failure to find the weapons of mass destruction. I'll probably reassure him that if we had moved quicker or searched harder we would have found them, because they were there. George had said they were. And the end justifies the means.

However, not all is lost. We can blame the 46% that did not vote for us for the rise in inflation and therefore for the rise in interest rates. If only we had had control of the Senate previously, all would have been well. As it will be after July, I tell she who must be obeyed. She nods wisely, but she doesn't have a mortgage, so maybe she just doesn't get it. I hope the higher interest rates will be coming down before the next election. So far, no one has thought that far ahead.

11/2. Penpal, old fruit, this has been a relaxed and comfortable week, don't you think? I know it may have looked a bit different, but there are many many ministers to go before the pressure comes on me from the sludge in the central coast creek. And none of them are going.

It did get a bit nausiating when Peter was prancing around saying he (and he alone .... poor lonely man, deserted by even his old supporters) had an important decision to make, but that was such a fib. The Swiss had been so nice to me in Davos, how could we refuse them? And now he has rolled over, so back in your box, old fella, I say. Go on, try and find another important decision!

Best of all this week, our monarch-to-be, HRH I call him, has announced he will marry again. She who must be obeyed has already called the dress designer. We're so excited.

It's been such a good week I've even had time to enter Henry Thornton's competition to explain why equities are rising in price when the RBA governor has been telling anyone who will listen that there are interest rate rises ahead.

Not hard to work out, dear Penpal. He has been misrepresented and misunderstood. Don't I know how easily that happens? I must say sorry to him (but not to anybody who steals a valuable room in one of our detention camps on some looppy excuse that she's an illegal).

What the nice Mr Macfarlane means is not that interest rates may rise. Of course they will. But we will blame Labor when they rise. They voted against all our reforms that would have kept inflation down. What he is really saying is that anyone who demands a pay rise that boosts inflation is obviously a Labor voter and should be locked up. Just like that Habib fellow. Australians who cause inflation are worse than terrorists.

And you just watch our stock market go now that we've opened the take-over flood gates to the Swiss, and other foreign companies like BHP. I guess you may spot a few more declarations of interest in equities from parliamentarians in future. We all have to catch up with Malcolm (and we'll never give him any of our inside information).

She who must be obeyed is becoming quite a tipster, I'll have you know. Put in the bank, she says, and we all jump - we've already started dog whistling about reviewing the 4-pillars policy soon, though we'll never really change it; and now she's saying we should all call home - I guess she means the cardigan-run phone company - before we sell it.

6/2. Its been the most marvellous week, dear Penpal. It was such fun tramping around in the snow in Davos, and then warming up in Singapore. I just love my authoritarian peers in the neighbourhood, not like the wimps who think they are leaders in Europe.

To top it off I was able to have my photo taken with lots of our uniformed ranks in the tsunami zone. Don't you agree we really are best mates with Asia now? I can't imagine what has changed. Surely it has nothing to do with the billion dollars we've just thrown at them? Some carper reckons if the wave had hit us instead, all of Asia would have cheered.

Anyway you can learn a lot when you travel. Flying over Nepal I discovered that the King had grabbed control, sacking his ministers. Not a bad idea when you think of Peter still loitering in the corridors. Better still, the declaration of martial law in Nepal meant that the abominable Sharron Burrows, leader of the so-called workers, was grounded at some trades union fiesta there and could not leave to return to be a nuisance in Australia. Thank god!

And now Amanda has scooped the pool with the idea of the century. We'll lock Sharon up when she returns. We've even got a cell for her at Baxter ready and waiting. She won't be able to prove she isn't an illegal if we grab her when she has gone to the toilet, and she is only just short of being certifiably insane in opposing our workplace relations reforms. Ideal!! Solitary confinement should do the trick. Imagine her trying to strike. Sew her lips together - go on, make my day!

More seriously, Peter is proving a real problem. I hear he has kyboshed our West Australian colleagues in their attempt to promise he'd cough up taxpayers money for some ditch to take water from north to south (or vice versa, it doen't matter, because the sun has got to all of them). If they don't win, it's another knife in his effigy.

Worse still, having got the drones at the OECD to write up our reform agenda for us, he's been out there saying everything is already perfect and the OECD shouldn't criticise.  That puts me in a quandary. If there's no atmosphere of crisis, how can we get things done? All my friends say they need tax cuts as well as increased spending. Well hello Peter, get a move on.

29/1. It is deep and crisp and even, dear Penpal, and I'm not referring to the snow in Davos. I'll give you a clue, dear penpal, the hopeless Opposition is stuck in it. Seems they have done my job in hatchetting their own front runners.

And now we've shipped that unconvicted terrorist back home. Can't wait til they start defending his rights. She who must be obeyed keeps telling me how clever I am when I take her ideas.

At least that allows me to concentrate full time on my own enemies, like Peter. I've lined the gangplank up for him. One more mention of the problem of the trade deficit and I've no doubt he'll start dissembling on why the external debt is bad and not a symbol of foreign strength and confidence in the good government of Australia. Then he really does just have to go.

And if he blabs once more on why we need tax cuts and then says "but we can't afford them", it's off with his head. Who's fault is that, I keep asking him, though I've always been too busy buying the next vote to stay around for his retort.

Anyway, enough of such morbid domestic troubles. It is just so great to be with my peers, the rich and famous. Pity there are so few of George's men, and a surfeit of Tony's pommie cretins chanting "global warming, feed the poor". I guess they are thinking of the German and French peasant farmers.

As it is, even I have to admit that the vast bulk of the conference attendees don't seem to know me. I can't tell you how many times I've had to explain we are not Austria. I thought they would all have seen the Crocadile Dundee ads. And I just don't understand why they laugh when I tell them we are part of the alliance of the consequent.

Thank goodness she who must be obeyed got better in time for this junket. I've dreamt for years of coming here. Still, it is a bit dull, even the TV news is all in some strange language and doesn't have subtitles, and to think we were in the air when our tennis stars were playing.

18/1. Dear Penpal, I write this in a mood of true melancoly. The country - my beloved country - has no direction. It has never been so bad. Even I am lost, anchorless. It feels like the end of politics in Australia, worse than the end of history.

Of course I am not referring to  the disappearance of the opposition as a real political threat. That happened years ago. The odious Latham's resignation is barely froth on a summer beer. If they bring back Kim, I'll really think Christmas came late. Did you see his ponderous "I've never been so ambitious" speech - the longest and most boring job application in history!

Nor do I care that General Peter is retiring. He did what was needed at the time, when he piped up for me and dudded the odious Latham.

No, what is undermining us all is the absense of She who must be obeyed. God knows, the country needs her back soon.

While she was away last night, I got the chance to see a documentary on my wartime hero, Winston. Just remember I am John W - yes, John Dubya. I was a bit shocked by the number of coincidences and similarities between Churchill and me - a dog, a liking for grog and a totally understandable recognition that we have been, are amd always will be indispensible.

Luckily my best pal George has the black dog. I'd find it such a bore if it couldn't walk as fast as me when I'm wearing my vote-catching jumper. No wonder Winston hobbled around with a limp and a stick.

But the doco was a bit unfair, not really giving credit where is it so obviously due, that W and I were pre-destined to lead our countries gloriously through the most difficult times.

And tonight I've got the same problem. She's still not here. So much time on my hands, and no idea what to do with it. That cowardly pinko television station, AB ... whatever letter comes next, showed a sitcom on the Wentworth family. By golly, if they need a real dynasty, why don't they come to our place? As for those old billy goats, you'd vote them off the set if you could. So much for dynastic Big Brother. Thank goodness there's some tennis.

Oh when will she be back?

11/1. I don't usually get the chance to write so often, dear Penpal, but I have been provoked, bad mouthed, maligned, ... whatever you might call it, it is bad.

That blasted Crikey has said my commentary session on the tsunami cricket game was not good enough. What would he know? I'm the one in love with cricket, not him. He should get a proper job.

Worse, some cowardly smart-arse, not even prepared to tell me his name, has written an unsigned diatribe on Henry Thornton suggesting that - now that we have control of the Senate - we will wimp out on tax reform.

Worse still, the shitty author ("A Watcher" - what else does he watch - children?) blames me for what is seen as the coming disappointment and absolves OMG, or Peter as he is known to the few who do recognise him. Well, I have news for him - I've worked out who did write that diatribe, Old Misery Guts himself. His backside won't touch his hot little parliamentary seat when we meet after these hols.

As if we would do the ridiculous things he wants. Don't moaners like him ever look out the window and see how well we are doing? Re-institute tax bracket indexation? No blinking hope. When would the voters ever thank us? Cut tax rates? And smash the property mafia. How would the legion of negatively-geared investors thank us? Limit government spending? Why, when we get such kudos for being nice to any worthy cause?

In any case, just as an insurance policy in case my side go troppo with the illusion of power, I'm busy seducing the other side's supporters. Once I have spent all the money, their side would have none to spend, so can't campaign in ernest against us. Actually, I can hardly claim to be busy as it is just a cruise-control continuation of what we did last year, but no one has woken up from their holiday stupor.

And She who must be obeyed keeps showing me photos of the odious Latham trying to read books to his kids in some luxury swimming pool. Hope it is not too full, as there seems to be some blood-letting coming up.

8/1. Guess I don't need to tell you where I have been, dear Penpal. If I believed what the papers say, I rule Indonesia and even haters now love me.

But I must impress on you, dear Panpal, that my supporters should not feel betrayed. Just because we are giving so much to the tsunami relief does not mean I have changed.

The tsunami is an opportunity and I had both the funds and the time on my hands. The Budget is in bigger surplus than Peter - Old Misery Guts or OMG, as I now call him, though not to his face - had said. As I have told the papers, I couldn't think of a bigger number than a million, except a billion (that is going the right way, isn't it?).

And the cricket has been a disaster. Every test match over before I got to the commentary box. Boring. The West Indies don't look much better, blah, waste of a summer.

It may sound churlish to say that God has an odd sense of humour sending the wave through only the Indian Ocean, but it is true. I've even heard supporters of the awful Latham hoping his hospital was swept away.

Anyway, the upshot is that we can buy the deputy sheriff role in perpetuity. And if I hadn't, that prehistoric Helen might have, and we'd all be singing her praises with a really flat nasal drone.

She who must be obeyed isn't at all impressed. Didn't like the taste of the malaria tablets she had to take so bravely in front of the school kids. And she is very wary of the new warrior woman in our camp, the garralous Sophie. She's a smartie, that one, and I've heard many voters wouldn't mind raising her taxfree threshold.

I'll have to spend some quality time with her in the run up to the sittings. Again, don't mention that to she who must be obeyed, or I'll be in even bigger trouble.

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The previous chapter in this series is linked here.