David Cameron: An Obituary From The Future #whatiwrite #blog #thatcher

'I'm laughing because poor people have died!'
‘I’m laughing because poor people have died!’

David William Donald Cameron (1966-2046)

What can be said about Lord Chief  Supreme God Emperor David ‘Dave’ Cameron which hasn’t already been uttered today or in the past? Probably much. His passing earlier today from a combination of cyber-cancer, multiple gunshot, knife and laser cannon wounds was tragic, but not unpredicted. The man had as many enemies as he had friends. Or children. Or wives. Or child wives. And Seal Team Six always get their man.

Born in a massive fucking castle in Berkshire in the year England swept to World Cup glory, David was at first a horrible child. Other babies in the hospital would regularly try to end his life, or to defecate in his open mouth (so much so that one nurse quipped that he might have a future as a Lib Dem! The nurse was of course rounded up and shot). No one was quite sure why Baby David was so unpopular with the other tots, but it was probably something to do with his wax dummy face, and the fact that he was a prick.

At Eton, David made friends with many of the people who would later shape his career, such as Boris Johnson, Saddam Hussein, and the Devil (who was doing a post-grad in Female Studies). There, David learned the arts of sculpture and bumming, under the tutelage of many great masters, mistresses and Professor Snape himself.

Later, when he attended university at Oxford, Cameron took his first human life; a flower seller called Mary. He pierced her brain with a tuning fork up the nostrils. She did not die immediately, which was to young David’s taste, as he liked to masturbate over the twitching corpses of his kills. After that, he had a taste for blood, and was unstoppable.

David became leader of the Tory party quite by accident, while telling a story on the Jonathan Ross show, about how he would often crack one off over images of Mrs Thatcher when he was a teenager. The Elders called a meeting, and Lord Tebbit proclaimed the youngish shiny faced sex-murderer to be the future of Conservatism. On the opposition benches, Gordon Brown sat relaxed and easy, not knowing that soon he would be deposed by some racist old bat, when he would accidentally call her a racist old bat.

Dave’s first (and last) reign as Prime Minister lasted about five years, and was fucking boring. Then, in 2014, Cameron finally snapped. He declared himself Life Emperor of the New British Isles (including Ireland, the Falklands and Ibiza), and set about decimating his rivals. First, the other parties were outlawed, and the left side of parliament completely demolished, to be replaced with a Starbucks, a Pret, and the ticket office for a Vue cinema, which would be upstairs, next to the bowling alley. Then, he ordered the spouses of Ed Miliband and Nick Clegg to be tortured on a medieval rack; stretched out until they screamed for mercy. The papers referred to this as ‘The Night of the Long Wives’.

Once in permanent power, Cameron set about destroying his non-domestic enemies. First to go were the French, in 2026; nuked to the bottom of the sea, choking on their own garlic-tinged regret. After that, in 2036, he nuked The Brown Countries, as we had already taken all their oil, their money, and their sand. Israel was spared, of course. Although no one could actually live there any more, due to the fallout from the surrounding nations of New Iran-Iraqistan, American Syria, and McCoca-Colaland (formerly Afghanistan). Anyone who wasn’t killed by the blasts or suffocated to death by bomb dust, were flown to new colonies on the Moon. Immediately, the Zionist government passed a law that stopped Palestinian survivors from settling anywhere except the Left Bank or the Gaza Strip of the Moon. Israeli Prime Minister Ben Asif Benagain said at the time: ‘This is a Moon for Jews. We have suffered more than anyone on the Earth. We need this Moon. To ourselves. If anyone else tries to live here we’ll kill their fucking children. With hammers.’

With the Sand People obliterated and the French gone too, Cameron’s dream of having a world with only Decent People in it was almost a reality. Africa had of course been wiped out in 2021, when mosquitos found out how to get AIDS. And South America was completely empty, due to everyone there finally making it over the Texan border to steal American jobs. All that was left to get rid of were the shitter parts of Asia, and the world would finally consist of just Americans, Brits, Aussies and other white people; China and Japan had of course developed a vaccine for Slitty Eyes and Yellow Skin in 2019, and had cured everyone in four days. Bish bash bosh.

Earlier this month, having successfully destroyed all life in the The Shit Parts of Asia, via engineering a Rice Famine, David started to become greedy and power mad. Those around him grew worried as he talked of horoscopes, raising demons, and the 1980s design game Fashion Wheel. The syphilis he had contracted from a sexual affair with Sarah Harding (from pop band/underground militant feminist terror group Girls Aloud) had taken full hold by now, and the aging despot was hatching a suicidal plan to start a war with his greatest ally, across the atlantic: the Former American Republic of Glaxo-Haliburton.

But they’ve fucking killed him now, so we can all relax.

Deputy Emperors Lord McPartlin of Tyne and his civil partner Lord Donnelly of Tyne will take over Emperor Duties until next week’s phone vote.


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