An open letter and discourse upon journalists, and the affair of the Miranda and how the First Minister may behave. From Niccolo Machiavelli to David Cameron, Prime Minister of her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and First Lord of the Treasury!         

Noble signore! Greetings from your most humble servant, Niccolo Machiavelli, and salutations!

Oh noble signore!

Much has changed since I, your humble counsellor Niccolo Machiavelli departed this mortal realm near on 500 summers since. For example, amongst your assembly and even amongst your own counsellors you number many of those of the female gender and not even of noble birth, and even the very prefect of your Home Office is a Daughter of Eve who wears strange apparel and shoes which would have made even Lady Lucretia Borgia blush. And yet, I can imagine that my former patron, Lord and Prince, Cesare Borgia, might well have considered this a matter of some joy, being, as he was, enamoured of courtly love. Or perhaps not, for he was not renowned as an Equal Opportunities Employer.

On the other hand, my most noble signore, nothing much has changed at all, and a good First Minister must learn of and grasp the levers of Power, in the interests of Himself first, and the Estate of his Peoples and the Citizens second.

Now, my noble patron Prince Cesare Borgia has maintained an interest in matters temporal from beyond the tomb and on high, including the X Factor, which he finds very base and cruel beyond any measure of his own alleged crimes, and also has been following you upon his celestial Twitter feed.

And thus, my noble patron Prince Cesare Borgia has bid me write words of advice and counsel to you, knowing as he does of much weeping and gnashing of teeth in your realm upon the Fate of one Miranda, who be not a lady, but a Green and Yellow Fellow.

Now, my Lord and First Minister may expect your humble correspondent to be writing from the very Seventh Level of the Inferno and the Pit of Beelzebub, with the fires so hot as to boil the very ink of my pen! But it transpires the Good Lord has a broader and less Politically Correct attitude than many of your present Body Politic and hoi polloi may allow, and my place in the hereafter has been most assuredly Upon High.

Having now resided in the company of cherubim and seraphim for so many years, what advice would I, of ancient wisdom and high experience, offer to My Lord in these times of turbulation and flatulence?  First I have words of general wisdom for a First Minister of every degree.

A wise first Minister should not be seen to be gadding about too much in the Summer Holidays, and having many thereof, for that upsets those of his citizens who are poor and starving and afraid for their homes and jobs, of whom there are many in the present times, them not being bankers, or civil servants or politicians who so shrewdly pay themselves so much at public expense, and yet in return for so little.

Also a wise First Minister should not wear shorts on any occasion. At all. Ever, .

Next, the First Minister should always beware of those who present themselves as jolly, upper class eccentrics who hold independent offices of Mayor, especially of his Capitol. For their assurances of friendship will, as sure as Fate, be fakery and false, and beneath the veneer of their jollity these are often serial womanizing snakes, and with all their might will focus upon obtaining the very office which you, my noble signore, now occupy, even to your destruction. Therefore, keep such men close, but have your agents of the State follow them about and to their wicked and immoral assignations, of which there are many, and if necessary lay temptation in their paths, and then make use of their Human Weakness as and when it is ripe so to do. For blackmail and character assassination are the tools of the trade. Ask any spin doctor.

A wise First Minister does not eat quiche, but will never be clear about whether he does or does not; and neither will he condemn quiche as such, for a wise First Minister will be all things to all men.

But a wise First Minister should not be keen to befriend varlets and outlaws and “hoodies” believing them to be misunderstood and ill used, for his people travel the turnpikes and footpaths that the First Minister doth not, and know them to be nasty dangerous little animals who want hanging from the nearest lamp post, not counselling. And his people will long remember if he the First Minister betray them and the safety of their families and chattels, and come across like an out of touch condescending twat.

A wise First Minister would keep his nose right out of hornet’s nests, where no good can be done, like Syria.

But, noble signore, what policy and advice do I send thee from on High and in the company of the angels on the affair of the Miranda in particular?

Of course, signore, in my day, things were a little easier. First almost nobody amongst the common people could read. But fie, there is no change there then! But yet, if a scribe, emergent from the New World, had held many and diverse documents and a CD ROM upon his person containing private papers and information belonging to a prime ally and partner of the City State in matters of war, what would my Lord Cesare Borgia have done? Why, my Lord Cesare would have been most politic, and would have admonished not the scribe, but would have preached openly for his safety and the forgiveness of his sins. And then after having him secretly pulled in and tortured upon the rack and obtaining the documents in question, had the little tinker’s throat cut, his body dumped in the Tiber and a statement blaming the Romanians issued the next day. We used to call it “plausible deniability.”

Now, oh honourable signore, I and my patron the noble Prince Cesare know full well and note that things have moved on and assassination is no longer allowed. Apart from David Kelly and Princess Di, of course. But, in the main, nowadays the Press must be courted like an expensive courtesan on one part, and paid handsomely well for their services and sure discretion, and then like the pretty daughter of an impoverished noble man, to be plied with sweetmeats and promises and seduced, and then right abandoned and sold to everlasting whoredom with never a second thought.

But when it comes to those who play with the security of the State and the State’s allies, more robust action is required. Of course, a wise First Minister will always make it plain that he is above the matter and that the actions of his City’s police are not of his doing and with him his Minister of the Home Office too. Ave, Theresa!  And a wise First Minister will thus always be careful to ensure that his agents and the police obey the strict letter of the law and the spirit of it too, for in this lies the long term safety of the State and the Constitution.

And a First Minister should be well counselled and be perfectly well aware that the scribe Miranda was not really ever seriously suspected of being a terrorist within the meaning ascribed to that term by section 40 of the Terrorism Act 200.

And thus he was not capable of being lawfully detained under schedule 7 of that Act in any way shape or form whatsoever.

However, a Wise First Minister would also know that in matters concerning the security of the City State, sometimes laws are to be stretched and even broken and that an occasional act of criminality is necessary to make sure that those who live in Hampstead and Islington, who read Polly Toynbee and who work in bleeding Matrix Chambers do not totally bollocks everything up. And all the more so, signore, when a spy is one who takes the other bus to Tuscany, as we used to say.  For those who read The Daily Mail and The Sun care not for such.

A wise First Minister would be aware that there must be limits to this, and the next time Nu-Labour whines on about it, point to the fact that it was not really legal to arrest an opposition MP, Damien Green, in the confines of the House of Commons and have the heavy mob trash his room because he found out stuff that embarrassed the government over its public stance on immigration.

But the wise First Minister will know when the slap of government is required, and that he is the guardian of the affairs of the State, and not those of the Fourth Estate who proclaim themselves the Guardian-istas.

Thus, signore, rest easy and stay above this affair! Know and preach nothing but honest propriety and respect for the law, and behind the scenes give such Lordly winks and nods as befits a complete and utter two faced bastard, which a good First Minister must always be.

And trust me on the shorts. Never a good look Dave.

Ciao for now.

Your dear friend and servant

Niccolo Machiavelli

Niccolo Machiavelli is a medieval diplomat, political scholar, playwright and composer of popular contemporary comedies and songs and is the author of the best selling spin doctors’ handbook, The Prince.  In his spare time he enjoys line dancing.

Daedalus
Parrot August 26, 2013 at 11:47

Very well put Mr Machiavelli.

I agree very strongly with you about the shorts issue. I really don’t want
to see publicity photos of my elected representatives in their shorts just as
much as I don’t want to see publicity photos of them having a shower or
watching TV in their undies.

You never saw Winston Churchill or Margaret Thatcher doing photo shoots in
their Speedos or bikinis.

Does this mean that we can expect a revised edition of “The Prince” with a
new chapter called Swimwear.

Ted Treen August 26, 2013 at 12:18

Daedalus old lad, your missive put me in mind (me being over 60) of Lab
MP Mrs Bessie Braddock in a bikini.

I am now quite stricken with the ague…

Daedalus
Parrot August 26, 2013 at 13:01

Ted Treen:

I’m not sure what antidote to prescribe for your ague; Louise Mensch in
a thong or Eric Pickles in a mankini perhaps?

Backwoodsman
August 26, 2013 at 09:24

An excellent piece, well done that Guest !
Here is the Comment of the
Day from Guidos’
“Lord Swanbourne says of topless Dave:
August 23, 2013
at 8:45 am

Not exactly Putin, is he?

Don Cox August 26, 2013 at 10:31

Putin isn’t as Putin as he thinks he is.

Ted Treen
August 26, 2013 at 12:21

Can’t quite work out why Mr Putin poses for staged blatantly homoerotic
piccies, and then introduces draconian anti-gay laws.

Could it be another case of “Methinks he doth protest too much”?

Nick
Drew August 26, 2013 at 08:44

A Pedant writes:

Hoi polloi ?

Doesn’t anyone know what this means anymore ?

Ted Treen August 26, 2013 at 12:14

Yes, I do.

Hoi polloi (Ancient Greek: οἱ πολλοί, hoi polloi, “the many”), is an
expression from Greek that means the many or, in the strictest sense, the
majority. In English, it means the working class, commoners, the masses or
common people in a derogatory sense.

Ian R Thorpe August 25, 2013 at 18:41

Sorry, can’t agree about the total ban on shorts. Although I’m a budgie
smugglers man meself I think shorts do have their uses. For example we know
know that Dave, who we previously though devoid of any talent, would have been
a shoo – in for Mister Knobbly Kneez at Pontins.

Cascadian August 25, 2013 at 15:36

A wise first minister, does not…………………

Install a windmill on his central London home, if he wants people to take
him seriously.
Get hen-pecked by a Greenpeace, Friends of the Earth-loving
wife. “Oh David the situation in Tunisia/Egypt/Libya/Syria etc. ad nauseum is
simply dreadful, you and Obumbler should do SOMETHING”.
Pick fights with
the man who supplies your gas heating, when your windmill power-generation
policy is in shambles.

The occupant of the prime minister post has a brain as flabby as his
torso.

Demetrius August
25, 2013 at 12:05

What about “get your retaliation in first?

Giggletree August 25, 2013 at 09:58

Wonderful fun read, thanks. I was thinking of doing the same for my own
president the inimitable Mr Zuma of the many many wives and concubines,
especially this exerpt “princes who have though more of their pleasures than
of arms have lost their states”. We can only hope.

Fat Steve August 25, 2013 at 09:15

Just Brilliant —-10 minutes reading this on a Sunday morning has greater
value than a month’s subscription to a broadsheet and 100 hours of comedy on
the box —is a green and yellow fellow code for all Brazilians or gay
Brazilians?

The Blocked Dwarf
August 24, 2013 at 19:05

Forsooth, such was the merriment had, in my humble abode, upon reading thy
missive that verily the very walls shook like unto Jericho, yea did I cast
myself down upon the reeded flags and now must I hie myself to the privy and
change my breeches….or as it be known in that cypher that is known only to the
cowled youth of this land: “WTF-ROFLMAO-BBQ!”

JuliaM August
25, 2013 at 16:58

therealguyfaux
August 26, 2013 at 12:45

Didst thou take a piss? Or takest thou the piss out of us?

DimWit August 24, 2013 at 17:58

Historically, Police States.

Self-justify ANYTHING as so called ‘Security’.

alan scott August 24, 2013 at 17:52

Eccezionale, Maestro Niccolo! Dottorato di ricerca prima classe con dieci
stelle e bacio academico.

Margaret Jervis
August 24, 2013 at 19:11

Grazie Signor/a/e/ina Mais mio italiano è di un ex un’epoca. Today, je
prefere les Autovistas d’Euro. Es gibt le Vrrmavistas de Deutschland – dans
le Milan particulament. En Angleterre nous avons le Holy Shit. C’est une
unfashionista exceptionelle – check. Mais les americains – herrshen die
Welt! C’est tres cool. Il Vaticano – Fransisco. Er ist ein armer Mensch. Il
Bennedicto – die rote chaussaure. Bene, bene. But nobody reads him. Mais –
mein lieblingsfreund est…
Herr Inspector Montalbano – di Sicilia Le Roi
De Sicile! En alle les langues!

Mudplugger
August 24, 2013 at 21:19

Esperanto, it aint !

Elena
‘andcart August 25, 2013 at 16:34

I thought it was funny.

Mizz Mildred
August 24, 2013 at 17:52

A good capture by some lurking person with a camera. Me thinks our dear
first minister looks a tad podgy. EVERYONE is in shorts in this heat. Perhaps
our dear first minister thought he would be lost in the crowd of white hairy
legs and knock knees.. Personally I think he would have looked even sillier,
if possible, in trousers of any length. Could someone have been busy with
photo altering tools, to make him look so inflated……you never know these days
whether any photo is entirely genuine? First minister was only trying to prove
he is like one of us……struggling on a British beach, unable to afford a
foreign holiday. A recent first minister always shovelled orf to Tuscany, or
wherever, to a posh and private villa. Therefore seldom if ever caught wearing
short pants and drenched by a cold cold sea.