Good morning, despots everywhere!

It’s Day Three of my glorious Underground Lair campaign and I’d like to thank you all for your continuing messages of support. Also I’d like to take the opportunity to answer a few of your questions.

First up is my old pal Robert Mugabe, who sent me a topical joke:

“If you laid all the citizens of Libya end to end along the Tripoli highway, that would be a pretty tough one to hide from the United Nations’ War Crimes inspectors, but I know a man who can help. Just say the word.”

Hahaha! Thanks Bob, you old rascal! Good job in Zimbabwe, by the way. It takes real talent to halve life expectancy. You the man!

Now, here’s a question from my old mucker, Hugo Chavez:

“Greetings, Muammer, my friend and Leader and Guide of the Revolution. I wanted to know: how does it feel to have a £1,000,000 price tag on your head?”

I’ll tell you how it feels, Hugo. It feels pretty damned insulting, that’s how. What am I, chopped liver? I’m a renowned International Man of Despotism with links to pretty much every major terrorist network. I basically financed most of the war crimes in Africa:  Uganda, Sierra Leone, you name it. And £1,000,000 wouldn’t even buy me a decent assassin. It’s a bloody disgrace. Said carries that much in change for a good night out in a Tripoli nightclub. I wouldn’t even spit on Barak Obama for less than a billion. £1,000,000? You’re kidding, right?

Next up, a question from my homie, Silvio Berlusconi:

“Hey, Muammer! Where you at? When are we going out chasing skirt again. It’s been too long. Drop me a line with your new address, I’ll call round with some of my special ladyfriends. Ciao, baby!”

Nice try, Cameron. I’m not as stupid as you look, white boy.

Here’s a question from an old, old friend, the great, the legendary, Fidel Castro:

“So, Muammer. I was wondering. How many sons do you have? Because, to be honest, I’ve lost count.”

Me too, Fidel, me too. For a while I thought I had one more than I do, but then Mohammed pointed out to me that Yusef Islam wasn’t even Libyan. Some sort of singer by all accounts. I sent him packing the same night. Cheeky bastard, drinking my beer and smoking my cigars like he owned the place.

Finally, here’s a question from Charlie Sheen’s PR agency:

“Hey, Muammer! We like your style! You definitely have #tigerblood! You want we should represent you? We can guarantee you shows from Chicago to Miami where you can rant like a drugged-up lunatic as much as you want and people will PAY to come watch you. This is not a joke. Let us know. Later, dude! #WINNING”

Hmmmm. Interesting. I’ll have my people call your people.

Well that’s it for now. I’m off to watch some television. My pals Jedward are in Celebrity Big Brother. I never miss an episode.

Until tomorrow, my despotic friends…

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