BY GEORGE HE’S GOT IT!

“Hi Ken! Are you all packed and ready to go? I sure can’t wait to get into the White House which sounds kinda strange don’t you think? First black guy in the White House. Where you gonna live now that the people and I have turned you out? Do you reckon you’ll end up in the Wild West in one of those cowboy films? I mean remember Ronnie! Anyway, there’ll always be a room for you here if you’d like to come visit some time. Yours apologetically,

The other ‘big O’”.

“Hi, ‘Big O’,

I keep a-tellin’ ya, my name’s George don’t you know? Just ‘cos my wife’s name’s Barbie, that don’t mean I’m a male doll. I was once the most powerful man on the plane – Hell no! I mean the planet don’ I! Anyway, don’t you worry a darn thing about me. I’m goin’ to migrate, you know, like the little old tweetie birds do when the cold gets into ‘em. We’sa goin’ to Britain, me and Barbie. We got our eyes on a nice little pad near the Strand if not on it. Why they even named it after us! That was real nice o’ them. They did it ‘cos of the special relationship we’sa got. Why it’s so lovely and quiet in there that I will have time and privateness to write my memorabelia. ‘Scuse my spellifications. I never got much learnin’ at school you understand. Anyway, now that we got that Osama Binladen out of Iraq and killed all those poor soldiers of the Americas and Britanicles I feel really happified now. I mean I will go down in historics as the greatest President the little old U.SA has ever knowd. I know you’ll never beat that Big Boy but I wish you all the luckification in all the big old worl’.

Yours sincerely,

George (not Ken) dubblya.

“Hi again Ken,

I loved your letter. I’m interested to know where you’re going to emigrate to in Britain.

By the way, it was Saddam who was killed, not Binladen. Still, man of your standing is allowed a little mistake once in a while. I can’t think of a single place in Britain which is named after you. Maybe you can enlighten me. Anyway I’m glad you have somewhere to go. I feel very mean kicking you out and all that.

Kind Regards and don’t forget your toothbrush,

“The ‘big O’”

“Hi again ‘O’,

Well now I’m so excitable. I wonder if Barbie and I might stay on for a little while. We won’t ‘interseed’ with you nor nothing. It’s just that there are some people in my proposed homestead which are refusin’ to budge. They told me they like it there. Who can blame them! I liked it there when I had a peep through my sunglasses just before Christmas! Anyway, I reckon a stick of dynamice will move ‘em. By the way, the place is called: BUSH HOUSE. You get that, ‘Big O’? BUSH HOUSE I reckon it’ll do just fine.

Yours as always, Georgie Porgy. (And don’t call me Ken again”.

“Hi Ken,

Hell I know that place. They broadcast the World Service programmes from there and some of Radio4. They let the world know just what a mess you made in Iraq and they tell them about all the other little S.O.B’s who run the world! You can not hole up in there. I shall stop it. I shall write to Gordon at once and express my concern at your proposal. I’d say you could stay here and play with the kids but who knows what you’d teach ‘em. I don’t want you strutting about the place in your cowboy boots, giving ‘em bad ideas and a bad role model. I wanna raise my kids properly. I know what it is to be down-trodden. I’m sorry Ken, you’ll just have to go live somewhere else. Emigrate, yes by all means, but not to Bush House which, by the way, was called that long before you were a disaster in your mummy’s tummy.

Yours horrified,

‘The Big O’.

“Hi Obama,

You ain’t no ‘Big O’! Everyone knows that was the singer with the glasses – Roy Orbiting, that was him. I’ve already talked with Gordy. He told me he can’t do nothin’ ‘cos he ran the Tamla Mowtown label. I don’t like that stuff. I’d rather have Johnny Cash and Tammy Dinette. Why she sings real good! Anyway, I’m sure I can get into BUSH HOUSE if I wanna. There’s just two ladies holdin’ out on me. They’s reasonable gals I think. When they meet Barbie and me and see I’m twice as stupified as they thought I was they’ll take pity on me I know they will! Why I may even get a job as a security man. They’ll value my expandees which I gained while I was Presidivying over the good old USA. Anyway, my eyes is getting’ tired now. I’s a little short sighted so I’m gonna go now. Good luck Obama. I know’s you’ll be far too tied up to write back. I had the boys arrange that. Told ‘em to use the best Italian spaghetti. There’s no way you’ll excapee from that tangible I know. See you on the ice,

George”.