Robert Mugabe Job Application

With Bob reaching the end of his latest contract, he is casting his eyes around for another country to trash. His clever wife Grace, who has two GCE O’levels in felatio and Chilapalapa, was instructed to send out enquiries to large executive recruitment firms. As she was too busy beating up reporters, she had the assistant Minister of Disinformation, Brightspark Matonga, to do it for her.
Brightspark you may remember, was back in the news for getting rid of his wife, the foul mouthed, farm robbing Essex slapper Anne Pout.

(Brightspark and his Ex, Anne Pout)

Name: Sir Robert Mugabe

Company: Destructed Republic of Zimbabwe

With the successful conclusion of my present contract, I find myself still willing to continue my chosen career of destroying nations. Whilst it is acknowledged that Gordon Brown has done a relatively good job of bringing the U.K. to its knees, I believe it could be done faster and with much more panache.

Executive power means executable power. I would simply execute any opponents against my policies of increased money supply, increased collapse of the entire infrastructure, along with fast-track closure of schools and hospitals to finance my scheme of creating jobs in the civil service. All 40 million of them.

The House of Commons and the Lords will be moved to Guantanamo bay, which I have recently purchased from a brother.

All troops will be withdrawn from Afghanistan and Iraq where they are just wasting tax-payers money. Instead they will be re-deployed to the Congo and participate in rape and pillage. Cobalt and diamonds spring to mind and feeding such a large force is logistically rather simple as the jungle is still full of pygmies that fit into most cooking pots.

The Queen must be moved out of Buckingham Palace to make way for my wife, but as a sign of respect for giving me a knighthood, I will allow her to occupy a small mud hut at the bottom of the garden. I might even provide a Blair toilet, but she may not keep any chickens.

My salary is non-negotiable as I will simply help my-self to the Reserve Bank. (Keep it full Gordon for when I take over.) I do insist on the usual perks that are attached to my position. These include a bullet-proof Mercedes and a Jumbo jet bigger than the one my brother in America has. If the wife gets a dog she might insist on a blood diamond collar. If she gets a new lover instead, I will insist on starting the old practise of chopping people’s heads off in public. Mugabe Stadium (formally Wembley) would be good place.

I have not bothered to attach my C.V. as it is readily available on the net. Simply Google my name and it comes up with 2,680,000 results, so take your pick. Most of it is simply lies placed by left-wing gays, who, incidentally, will all be rounded up and fed to the Loch Ness monster.

I intend to return all corner shops to ethnic majorities whom I will import from China.

As British farms are just subsidized cash cows, they will be taken over by hoodies and knife carrying gang members who will produce beer and marijuana.

In conclusion, I have a small personal wish. At my inauguration I would like Bob Marley to sing, so could you start fast-track cloning him? I don’t want him wailing and shitting in nappies during my acceptance speech.

Cruel regards,

Bob.

P.S. I want the Queens head on the bank notes changed. I am a humble and modest man so I am happy to have depicted the executed head of Morgan Tsvangirai on an assegai, just for old times sake.