Cunt Of The Year 2010

Hi everybody, Nick Clegg here.

It's been a cunt of a year hasn't it? Tories back in power, massive cuts to vital public services, students rioting on the streets of London. And next year's shaping up to be a right cunt too what with the impending purge of the country's poorest people from social housing, massive public sector redundancies, draconian limits on much needed economic migrants from outside the EU, VAT rising to 20% and inflation going absolutely mental.

It really is all a bit of a cunt isn't it?

Now, I know what many of you out there will be thinking. You'll be thinking "that David Cameron has a lot to answer for. That plum-tonsilled, cock sucking, fox hunting, play-doh faced inbred cunt - he's responsible for all this. He's forcing open the bum cheeks of this great nation and reaming its arsehole with a croquet mallet. String him up. Cut his testicles off and shove them, quivering, into his wet-lipped mouth."

But I say to you, no! Cameron is not to blame. If you must blame anyone, blame me. If you must call someone a cunt, call me a cunt. After all, without me none of this would have been possible.

The day I walked out of 10 Downing Street shaking hands with my dear friend the prime minister, was the day I took millions of trusting votes and literally wiped my arse with them.

That's right, Lib Dem voters (whether you are long term partisans or simply had enough of Labour - and let's face it who wouldn't have with their record employment figures, lowest ever NHS waiting times and brilliant revamp of our schools) every ballot paper you ticked and put in that little box, I used it to wipe my faeces-splattered shitbox and then flushed it down the toilet. It was a long night and my anus became sore and chafed. At one point I looked over to my trusted colleague Vince Cable and noticed that his arse needed wiping too, so I handed him a wad of voting papers which he eagerly soiled. As he did so he smiled and said something noble but the gist of what he was saying was lost as everybody was too distracted by his symbolic act of defecation.

Whilst I agree that David Cameron has put this country on a course of destruction, social breakdown and unprecedented inequality over the next five years, we have to bear in mind that he's a tory. What do you expect? It's in his blood. I can assure you he's really a thoroughly nice chap. (He even likes The Smiths. Kudos Dave).

But I was supposed to be the one you trusted. I was meant to be a watershed moment in the history of British politics; a politician proudly standing up for his principles, disrupting the two party power monopoly and reforming the electoral system forever. I even had the fucking Guardian spunking over me like I was the new fucking Messiah!

Well, that's all gone to shit hasn't it?

You all deserve an apology and I wish I was able to give it to you. But at the end of the day, when I look in the mirror and see my own slightly embarrassed, nondescript face looking back at me I think "Clegg, you old cunt, whatever glaring, deceitful, cowardly mistakes you've made this year, you have at least acheived one notable success - you've got the Liberals back into power for the first time in decades. Sort of."

Oh who am I kidding? The truth is I hate myself. Every night, once all the politicking and debating is done and another section of the British populace has been shafted in the House of Commons, I go upstairs to bed and I take out the selected papers of Gladstone, Asquith and David Lloyd George and I have a little wank over them. And then I cry long and hard into the night.

People of Britain, I say this to you. I am a cunt of epic and legendary proportions. It's not going to be easy reconciling my conscience with all that I've done. To be honest, one of these days I'll probably kill myself.

But not right now. There's still work to be done.