Saturday, April 23, 2005


Lies, lies, lies.

Michael Howard was born in Birmingham in 1922. The son of a disillusioned wassailer and a unemployed satirirst who had once been hounded out of Leeds for mocking Lloyd-George's moustache, the young Michael was easily impressed. His formative years were spent in and out-of-bounds and it was only when the draw was made for the second round of the World Wars that Michael found his true calling. Captured during the liquidation of the Midlands ghettos, the Howard family found themselves being transported to the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp, and it was at this point that the young Michael realised something really needed to be done about the trains.

During the long years at Auschwitz Michael woke up to the true meaning of human spirit. He watched the people around him and saw that it was these folk, these strong people of honour that symbolised all that he stood for and all that he would stand for in the future... plus he absolutely adored their uniforms.

After the war the young Michael could not decide on a profession. He loved the arts and would spend hours and hours with his face pressed to the window of the local hairdressers trying to discover their secrets. Eventually he plucked up the courage to enter the place but, wraught with nerves, it was as much as he could do to say his name, much less ask for a job. Two hours later he emerged with the hairstyle that became famous the world over as 'Howard's dancecard filler', for no woman who wore it "need ever concern herself with worries of wallfloweredness again". Michael opted for his second chosen profession which was, of course, stand-up politico-comedy folk-singing and boy, was he succesful. In just six months Michael had upwards of five bookings and he never went to the same place twice. As audiences chortled at his ribald rhymes and mischievous melodies like 'One Nation Conservative tax shortfalls' and 'Harold Wilson's pipehole' Michael saw that lampoonery was not enough for him, he wanted to make a difference.
Westminster called and Michael was not going to disobey.

Soon enough he was able to find himself Conservative parlimentary candidate for Manhattan South and his performances on the hustings ensured that Michael Parkinson Howard M.E was soon Michael York Howard M.P. His easy-going style and devillish good-looks soon made him Mr. Popular in the Commons, so much so that his maiden speech in favour of taxing nurses on their tips got a standing ovation from all sides of the house, although alas, never making it onto the statute books due to the famous white paper shortage of 1976-1977.

If Howard had been popular in opposition, then he was God-like in Government. As Mrs. Thatcher's favourite Jew other than the Queen Mother, Michael was the social conscience of the famously caring Conservative cabinet of the eighties and early nineties. When pit closures were announced it was Michael who bravely said "It's a shame" in front of his shocked colleagues. His follow up line of "It's a shame... we didn't do it earlier!" had them all rolling in the aisles once more, and got him a kiss from Douglas Hurd and a special pat on the head from Mrs T herself.

Opposition years followed and Michael watched his beloved Conservative party tear itself apart. He knew what he had to do; he must lead them to certain defeat so that he could be replaced by someone else after the 2005 election. Michael set about losing the election by remembering he was Jewish. The public would feel much better about a racist if the racist was a Jew. How could a member of the most persecuted race in history possible want to persecute anyone else?

Wearing his Jewishness like a country club member's pass, Michael cut a swathe through rational arguments. He tossed facts aside like past manifesto promises.

"Travellers? Get travelling! Asylum seekers? I'm not falling for that! The poor? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

The Conservative heartland were emboldened; here was a man who would take us back to the glory days. Poll tax. Three million unemployed. Super gun. 15% interest rates. Aitken. Archer. BSE. The Belgrano. Kenny Everett. VAT on fuel bills. Oh hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Michael Howard is Jewish.

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