Far be it from me to pronounce on a problem that is for Your Majesty to handle. But since those spineless jackals from Fleet Street keep pestering me about it, I do have some opinions on this so-called "hung" parliament that the British public has saddled us with. Read what I have to say in the Telegraph here: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/election-2010/7693301/Margaret-Thatcher-The-Queen-should-have-last-word-on-hung-parliament.html
Now, I shall not presume to tell you whom I think should form the next government. That, as I have said, is your decision. But forthwith I think you should issue a proclamation banishing the word "hung" from the British vocabulary, at least when it's used in the context of parliamentary politics.
Why do I think this, you ask? Well, because after a look at what's in the trousers of that frightful wet, Mr. Cameron, and in the pants of those pathetic, woolly-headed socialists Mr. Brown and Mr. Clegg, I fear calling any of them "hung" would be a sad misnomer. Certainly, we don't want it to get it into their heads that they're anything other than merely ordinary specimens of manhood. In fact, I daresay they are as mediocre between the legs as they are between the ears.
After all, when it comes to manly equipment, none of them holds a candle to the man I loved. No, no, I don't mean Denis, although his was acceptable when it was erect. I mean Ronnie Reagan. Now, Liz, I must tell you, there was a well-endowed man, and I don't just mean ideologically. How do I know, you ask?
Well, it was back in the early '80's when I was at the White House on a state visit. Ronnie excused himself from a meeting he had dozed off in, saying perhaps a bath would wake him up. I followed him and sort of accidentally-on-purpose walked in on him in the bathroom while Denis wasn't looking.
Poor, poor Ronnie was so embarrassed. But my, my, Your Majesty! What a breathtaking trouser-snake he had, and the dear thing wasn't even hard. In fact, I know he never got hard for that old tart, Nancy. He once told me the only thing that excited him was cutting welfare rates, and the prospect of nuking the Soviets. And believe me, Your Majesty, if starting World War Three was what it took to make that joystick stand to attention, then it certainly would have been worth it, I say!
At any rate, I can't think of any politician I ever dealt with who compared to him in that department. Certainly not any male politician in Britain. After all, I was a mere woman, and I had bigger bollocks than all of them put together. As for the foreign ones, by the time I got to meet Brezhnev, he couldn't get it up at all. And as for Gorbachev, well, he struck me as kind of gay, and I don't mean happy!
Anyway, Liz, I don't envy you on this one. A sorrier collection of political non-entities I've never seen. I only hope they'll all learn to use their heads one day. I certainly don't know why the good Lord gave each of them two heads, when they can't even figure out how to use one.
Your devoted servant,
Baroness Maggie
