Mad Dave Cameron

Mad Dave – the best bits of David Cameron’s biography: Call Me Dave

Mad Dave Cameron

Just the other day I took delivery of Mad Dave Cameron’s unauthorised biography, Call Me Dave, by Michael Ashcroft & Isabel Oakeshott.

For anyone who’s been living in a cave for the last few months, the book is widely acknowledged to be Lord Ashcroft’s revenge for being dumped by Cameron after bankrolling the Tory party for a number of years to the tune of £8 million.

Ashcroft expected to be rewarded with a cushty post in Mad Dave’s cabinet. But as the world now knows, Dave reneged on him. He did the dirty. Scared off by Ashcroft’s allegedly dodgy non-dom tax status (which Dave had apparently known about for donkeys, but kept schtum, in a kind of, semi-legal kind of way).

Anyhow, when Mad Dave needed Ashcroft’s money to get elected, he practically car-washed Ashcroft’s bell-end with his tongue, metaphorically speaking, for years. Then when he became Prime Minister and didn’t need Ashcroft’s dough any more, he dumped him like an old boyfriend he’d grown out of.

Hey, who needs enemies with friends like Mad Dave.

Well, here’s a thing. Apparently it seems Mad Dave thought that that would be the end of it. Ashcroft would be done and dusted. And that basically he would shut up, crawl under a rock and die. But Ashcroft didn’t read that script. He wrote his own instead. Payback time.

At 600 pages I’m sure it’s going to be a ripping yarn that keeps me entertained right up to Christmas. I thought it would also be a service to mankind, especially to those too poor to afford their own copy (whose number has grown to millions under Mad Dave’s government) to serialise my own unauthorised excerpts from the book over the coming months. To pass on the real juicy bits that show Mad Dave at his maddest, without all the air-brushed spin and PR. Without the lies. Without the deceit, the media bias. Just Dave. Mad Dave. Mad Dave Cameron.

In one of those little gifts from the Gods that you sometimes get, the arrival of Mad Dave’s biography has coincided with the week of the Tory Conference in Manchester. During which, as it happens, Dave has made a number of statements aimed at convincing the British Public what a stand-up guy he really is. Stuff like, Mad Dave the anti-poverty campaigner. Mad Dave the champion of multi-culturalism. Mad Dave the bouncer looking after our national security. And above all, Mad Dave the trembling, emotional, bulgy-eyed raving hypocrite.

For the alert reader there’s a bit of a clue in that last sentence, as to how Mad Dave’s new nickname – ‘Mad’ – came about.

I coined it after listening to Dave’s barking speech at the Tory Conference this week. I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t in some kind of surreal alternative universe, in which ‘up’ was ‘down’, ‘black’ was ‘white’, ‘left’ was ‘right’, and the Tories were the party of fairness, social justice and equality. The only conclusion anyone with even half a brain could reach was, he’s gone totally mad. Dave’s gone mad.

For instance, during his keynote speech, Mad Dave pledged to fight poverty. Nothing wrong with that in the abstract, if it weren’t for the fact that his own savage tax and benefit changes were about to make 3 million workers worse off, plunge 200,000 more children into poverty in 2016, and raise the total number of working households in poverty to over 2 million by 2020. Completely mad.

Mad Dave also vowed to fight racism, only 24 hours after his own Home Secretary, Theresa ‘Enoch’ May, stood at the same podium declaiming in her own ‘Rivers of Blood’ speech, an apocalyptic vision of the effects of immigration on our country, equivalent to the great plague of London in the 17th Century. If we let them all in, we’re doomed! Barking.

And of course, the man whose term in office has completely decimated our armed forces, leaving us with basically an under-sized squadron of Sopwith Camels, a couple of leaky canoes firing pop-guns, barely enough soldiers to quell an outbreak of disorder at the annual Gloucestershire Cheese-Rolling Contest, and a BIG FUCK OFF NUCLEAR MISSILE, talked much about our national security. Mad Dave foamed at the mouth as he warned us about the woes that would befall us if mild-mannered, humanitarian Jeremy Corbyn ever got into power. “We cannot let that man inflict his security-threatening, terrorist-sympathising, Britain-hating ideology on the country we love.”

As Seumas Milne said in his excellent article, Mad Dave’s Tories aren’t so much colonising the centre ground of reasonable politics, as colonising its ‘rhetoric’. They’re basically lying, to their back teeth.

“When Cameron and Osborne wax lyrical about protecting working people, it’s strictly for the cameras,” says Milne. Adding, ”A Conservative party funded by bankers and hedge funds that now claims to represent working people is preparing to drive down the incomes of supermarket workers and cleaners, deepening inequality in the process, while its multimillionaire health secretary, Jeremy Hunt, insists that losing the cash from the public purse will give them ‘dignity and self-respect’. Add to that the trade union bill now going through parliament, which will not only effectively outlaw most strikes but will strip Labour of the majority of its trade union funding, and the authoritarian, anti-worker inspiration of the Cameron-Osborne administration can’t be seriously doubted.”

But I digress. To get to the truth, why not let the facts speak for themselves, by diving straight in with the first excerpt from Mad Dave’s thrillingly unofficial biography. The excerpt, in fact, which every foreign spy on the planet will already have tucked away in their secret dossiers of Mad Dave, as the blackmail opportunity without equal. Let’s go straight in at the deep end for my unauthorised serialisation of Call Me Dave, excerpt No1, from pp73.

“In any case, the Bullingdon was not necessarily the forum for Cameron’s worst excesses. It has emerged that he was also involved in another notorious Oxford dining society, the Piers Gaveston, whose gatherings were the scene of more shocking behaviour. During the course of our research, a distinguished contemporary of Cameron’s at Oxford claimed the future Prime Minister once took part in an outrageous initiation ceremony at a Piers Gaveston event involving a dead pig. His extraordinary suggestion is that Cameron put his penis in the animal’s mouth… a little more detail. He claimed the hog’s head was resting on the lap of a Piers Gaveston society member while Cameron performed the bizarre act.”

Nice work, Dave. Loving the homo-erotic overtones. Makes me feel a whole lot safer knowing the country, and our nuclear button, is in the hands of a man who likes to hump the living daylights out of a pig’s mouth being cradled in the lap of a fellow debauchee.

And later on p74:

“Furthermore, there are a number of accounts of pigs’ heads at debauched parties in Cameron’s day. The late Count Gottfried von Bismark, an Oxford contemporary of Cameron who became notorious after Olivia Channon, the daughter of a Tory government minister, died of a heroin overdose in his Christ Church bedroom, was an enthusiastic member of the Piers Gaveston society and reportedly threw various dinner parties featuring pigs’ heads. The Piers Gaveston, named after the lover of Edward II, specialises in bizarre rituals and sexual excess. Its gatherings, typically held amid great secrecy in country houses, were described in a 2014 article in society magazine Tatler as ‘basically a very well-organised orgy’.”

So now we know. Mad Dave’s a player. He likes to play dirty.

And the secret to gaining the keys to the highest office in the land? Be a sexual pervert. A rich sexual pervert. Now tell me something I didn’t know.


Facebooktwitterpinterestmailby feather