Conor is having a birthday, Huzzah!

It is the birthday of my co-conspirator, and like any good oligarchy we choose to impose national celebrations. I have drafted up a list of events, all of which are mandatory. This list, aside from being shown here, is to be stapled to the foreheads of some of our nations less fortunate, which both advertizes the events in a mobile fashion and obscures the frightful appearances of those undesireable elements.

1) Every citizen must wear an amusing hat, which hat and the level of its amusing nature is to be strictly monitored. Should an individuals hat prove to be below the desired level of hilarity, this person shall be branded a traitor and chased through the streets.

2) Traitors, whether for crimes against the state or those who couldnt muster up enough enthusiasm to wear appropriate headwear, shall have strips of meat tied to them and be chased through the town by ravenous dogs. Dogs who fail to meet the required level of ravenousness will be similarily dealt with, having bags of "quorn" tied to them and chased through the town by ravenous vegetarians.

3) No one must eat any cracker barrel cheese, as this is the only cheese eaten by our venerable leader and as such must be treated with respect. Citizens must procure a bar of the cheese and wave it in the air at certain designated times throughout the day. When the sun has set, only then can the cheese be melted down to be later carved into an image of Conor buying cracker barrel in Tesco.

4) At midnight the populace must gather in the center of our great capital and watch as thousands of mime artists assemble for the largest Flea Circus ever performed. This is to honour the most noble of achievements of the Oligarch, whilst only a child. Subsequent performances of Flea Circuses will be limited to a new Flea Circus festival, to begin each year on this day henseforward.

5) All citizens who wear glasses must ritualisticaly remove them and stamp them into the ground, then drink themselves into a stupor in order to honour the great ones time in the wilderness.

6) Citizens who have been monitored up to this point due to a lackof musical taste, shall be locked in a small windowless room and played one of Conors mixes for 72 hours. Those that survive without food and water will be appointed to a new spiritual committee, to meet on Wednesdays, that shall discuss music of Conors choosing. Those that do not survive will have their remains cemented into the foor and walls of a new music hall, named in the Oligarchs honour.

7) Off licences are to remain open 24hours a day for the next week and sell only buckfast.

8) Finally, in honour of the birthday of such a man, each citizen must commit the piece I wrote about his birthday last year to memory. There will be quizzes on it throughout the day, failure to answer correctly will result in the acting out, upon sed person, of the most horrible of violations as mentioned in the piece.

C's birthday bash

We open on an apartment sitting room at 3.30am approx. C is being held down in turn by several distinguished guests, stars of stage and screen. C has been carted down the road for his own safety, after a hasty examination by an off-duty paramedic. M is cleaning in a desperate attempt to purge his dirty, dirty soul.

C: FUCK YOU, LET ME UP, NO SERIOUSLY, NO SERIOUSLY, FUCK YOU!
M: (picking up cans in a desperate attempt at last minute redemption...muttering to himself) Unclean, Unclean.
C: SERIOUSLY I LOVE YOU ALL. NO IM FINE. IM FINE! FUCK YOU.
Guest1: Change places! (they swap, laughing both from nervousness and genuine amusement)
C: I'LL FUCK YOU! I'LL FUCK YOU! (he bends over the gentleman to his left and begins a crude uncoordinated humping)
Guests: (laughs)
M: (washing his hands) Anyone want coffee? coffee? coffee? Anyone, coffee?
C: LET ME UP, I'LL FUCK YOU. PADDY IS DEAD TO MEEEEEEEE, FUCK YOU! (he makes a break for the door, knocking over everything freestanding on the way)
M: (picking him up)Are you OK? C, you OK? Do you want a coffee? Coffee?
C: I love you man, I'm fine, I'M FINE. GET OFF ME. FUCK YOU!
(The distinguished guests start over to lift him also, restraining him and laughing)
Guest2: Lets get him into bed.
Guest3: You want to return his amorous approaches from earlier?
Guest4: (in mocking tone) I'LL FUCK YOU! (all laugh)
C: GET OFF ME, FUCKERS, FUCKERS, I'LL KILL YOU. I'LL FUCK YOU IN THE EYES!!!!
M: Calm down man, would you like a coffee?
C: FUCK YOU. Yes actually, I'd love a coffee. Anyone for tennis?
L: Oh, those boys of mine!