Soon it will be time to decide whether I can face standing
for President. Lucky CIPA.
If you stand for office, you should probably have a
manifesto I think. That way, afterwards,
you can tell people to stop complaining because you warned them it would
happen. I do a rough first draft of a
Presidential manifesto, just to see what it feels like, and it feels quite good
although that may be the gin. But when I
show it to my friends at CIPA they think I have gone mental. They say you have accidentally written a
manifesto for a Bond villain and also what is this bit about everybody having
to curtsey? And what does “Mwa ha ha!”
mean?
They promise to take a closer look and send me back some
tracked changes, to show all the commas I need to remove and all the Capital
Letters I need to add. And I think: my
evil plan is shaping up nicely. While
they are distracted with accidental commas I will be secretly taking over the
Institute. And I will remove its Capital
Letters one by one and throw them to the Solicitors to feast on and then the ceremonial
gavel – sorry, the Ceremonial Gavel – will be MINE, all mine! Mwa ha ha!
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