“Your place ermine,” Mandy whispers in the ear of the appreciative Guardian reporter, his lizard tongue flicking wildly. The Guardian reporter is looking forward to being treated to the tenderly performed obsculum obscaenum that he is so accustomed to from the usual Labour dignitaries.
“My Italian marble floor in the bathroom is exquisite and I love nothing more than to roll around on it just to savour its marvelous texture and coolness. Then I like to enjoy the hard surface as my manservant services my goods with gusto. That reminds me, I must get my prostate checked out soon,” the Lord says as he sips his champagne in his boudoir, dressed in a chic pink dressing gown fashioned from the finest silk money can buy, reports the left-wing newspaper.
After brokering a deal or two, like releasing Libyan terrorists so that lucrative oil contracts can be pilfered over brunch in his rich friend’s Corfu mansion, the Business Secretary has been lauded by the Brown administration as a crucial cog in the wheel of corrupt government so entrenched in cronyism, deceit and lies that it does not even believe its own bullshit and spin anymore.
“Mandy is an asset to the Labour party. He looks so perfect, so well coiffured. It is said that he has facials each and every day and that is why his skin is so glowing. And those loafers and perfectly pressed trousers. Immaculate, we must add. He’s definitely not like Kenneth Clark or that fat slob ‘two Jags’ Prescott,” one of Mandelson’s many sycophantic Westminster admirers told the BBC.
Certainly, the unelected Lord Mandelson has come a long way from his previous attempts at government. He has somehow acquired great wealth after his recent reinvention by clearing his £2.5 million Regents park mansion’s mortgage in one fell swoop. All of this on his measly Minister’s pay packet, a truly incredible feat. We wonder where he got the money for that from?