PRESIDENT BUSH PRAISES PRIME MINISTER BLAIR'S PRAISES OF PRESIDENT BUSH'S PRAISES OF PRIME MINISTER BLAIR TO ASSEMBLED NETWORK PHOTOGRAPHERS

Joint Statement by the President & British Prime Minister


THE PRESIDENT: Good morning, vipers. We're gonna shake up the routine a bit today. Before handing out the partial transcripts of this afternoon's press conference with all the questions you're going to ask, we're going have a little picture-taking hootenanny with my boy Tony Blair here. But before we begin, I want all you tweed-wearing, lower middle class typewriter monkeys to take note - don't go trying to ask me or Prince Poodle here any dumb, unignorable questions about why we think we can wage war without even having a consensus among the people who quote unquote elected us.

If you like those free three-day old PB&J's, toilet seats in the press bus head, and "access" to yours truly, you'll smile and quit your fancy liberal bitching toot-sweet.

Come on up here, Tony.

THE PRIME MINISTER: Cheers, mate!

THE PRESIDENT: Now, we're gonna stand up here and smile and you yutzes is gonna beam these pictures out so the whole world knows that the English-speaking nations of the Earth plus Britain are of one mind: MINE. Right, Tony?

THE PRIME MINISTER: Pip, pip!

THE PRESIDENT: As we stand here today, smiling and looking hunky good, on the verge of an election-tilting economic windfall known as America & Pals Presents: The Empire Strikes Iraq, I want the world to know: Britain will do whatever we tell them to. From the first time we whopped their kidney-munching arses, to the second time, and then all those other times we saved them from the retard pansy Germans, Britain has learned that no hindquarters smell as sweet, alluring, and muskily robust as those of their masters across the Atlantic.

THE PRIME MINISTER: Tally ho, George old boy! I couldn't agree more profusely with your fabulously brilliant and gloriously articulated vision for the strategic security relationship forged in semi-metaphorical spirit-blood between our two mighty Christian nations. We are both on the same shhh-edule. Indeed, as most governments of the world succumb to a quasi-intoxicating haze of insecurities and fundamentally misguided obsession with curtailing America's God-sanctioned unilateralism, we British warmly embrace all such flagrant flauntings of power, inasmuch as they invariably infuse international law with the essential vertebrate-like characteristics that are -

THE PRESIDENT: Ain't he adorable? Anyway, here's a crumpet, Tony. Do me a big cowboy favor and shut your trap, you hear? Lookit: Tony and his country of surprisingly violent, well-manicured closet cocksuckers sure talk a lot, and if you're like me, it don't make a lot of sense. But basically, what we're both saying up here is that if the Vichy-Krauts don't like me playing High Noon with Saddam bin Laden, then they better not get all fussy when they find themselves riding in luggage storage on the Great American Gravy Train.

THE PRIME MINISTER: Bloody good point, guv'nah!

THE PRESIDENT: Jesus, you critters talk funny. How the hell you ever taked over so many darkies, camel jockeys, and Orientialoids I'll never know. But let's wrap up. I think Tony Blair is the most amazing, borderline queer governor Britain has ever, ever had except for that iron lezbo Maggie Snatcher who blew up all those uppity South Americans.

THE PRIME MINISTER: Brilliant! You know early today, as I sat on the loo, before I rode the lift back up to tea time, I had a wee bit of a think - and it was absolutely pucker! Well let me tell you that while eating some bangers and mash and bubble and squeak a tad later with this fascinating chap George W. here, I realized something marvelously grand: he doesn't bother enunciating a lot of rubbish about this and that. He's just the breed of grand old fellow with whom you'd fancy sharing a newspaper full of chips before jaunting off to subjugate a gaggle of brown-skinned savages to exploit their meagre resources for personal gain! Cheerio!

THE PRESIDENT: Wha-a-a-a-atever dude! Let's take a few more pictures and then you can sign the Indian Ocean's Diego Garcia island military base lease over to me.

THE PRIME MINISTER: God Save George W. Bush's Blood Cousin the Queen!

THE PRESIDENT: Like I said: cute as a button, huh? Now flash them snaggle-toothed pearly browns of yours for FOX NEWS, Tony.

THE PRIME MINISTER: Wot?

THE PRESIDENT: Smile, limey!

THE PRIME MINISTER: Right-o, Georgey-boy!