SLEAZY TIGER’S BLOG OF SLEAZE LITERARY INSTALLMENT: PART THREE - DR STRANGETIGER, OR, HOW I LEARNED TO LOVE LIKE A BOMB

“The First World War was the last remnant of my old style of life. The political nous that I had honed in the courts of Europe came to the fore as I enjoyed the last war that would remind me of the classic warfare style of the Middle Ages. An entire generation of good men were sacrificed and all because I convinced the Kaiser that competing with the major world powers would make up for him having a tiny dick. I spent the war in Russia where I had found a kindred soul in Grigori Rasputin. He exerted control of the Tsarina of Russia and used it to manipulate Russian politics, he claimed to be a faith healer, he cavorted with prostitutes and he generally lived the bad life. It was a shame he had to be removed, but I couldn’t let someone live who might conceivably claim to my throne as King of Sleaze. Don’t believe the myth that history tells you though, he’s very much alive. It’s my own fault really. He might have actually given up the will to live after being stabbed, poisoned, shot, clubbed, castrated, drowned and frozen were it not for the fact that I wrote ‘Rasputin was a fairy’ on his dead forehead. This insult was enough to bring him back to life and spend his afterlife chasing me around the world looking to exact revenge. That is one of the reasons I never spend too much time in one place. That and the paternity suits. And the lynch mobs. And the bar bills.”

“The Cold War was the most magical time. One man really represented the entire period for me, and that was John F. Kennedy. It’s a little known fact that I was with him from the start. We were at the movies and this stunning blonde came on screen. JFK turned to me and in his Massachusetts burr said: ‘ST. I believe that this man should commit himself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of hitting that seven-ways-Sunday.’ Ten years later, he was President and was banging Marilyn Monroe whenever his brother or I weren’t. Johnnie knew how to have a good time. I remember with fondness the day he told me he was going to bait Khrushchev over the business with Cuba. At one point he sent a telegram message to Moscow. As I remember it went something like this: ‘BWUKBUKBUKBUK STOP COME ON STOP LAUNCH THEM YOU PUSSY STOP.’ He was a great man and was sadly missed. Though not by me. I did tell him I could hit a moving target at 200 yards but he refused to believe me.”

“...and so I told LBJ, resign now, Ho Chi Minh will cut a deal and you’ll forever be remembered as the President who ended the Vietnam War. You should have seen the look on his face when he realised I was shilling for Nixon. Good ol’ Dick. He wasn’t anywhere near as much fun as JFK or as easy to annoy as LBJ but he sure knew how to be a hated. It might surprise you to know that I had nothing to do with any of his sins. Bombing North Vietnam back to the Stone Age, invading Cambodia, shooting students, bugging the Watergate hotel and lying about it, all him. Were it not for the fact that the man couldn’t get a woman to sleep with him had he covered himself in Prada shoes stuffed with $100 bills I’d have had to deal with him Rasputin style.

Yep, ‘Tricky Dicky’ just couldn’t hit the big leagues. That’s why I always voted Democrat, they knew how to conduct extra-marital affairs. It’s also how I found myself drifting away from politics in the early 90s. Bill Clinton had been amazing. But then he apologised. Never apologise. Never. I knew this was the beginning of the end. Politicians were suddenly accountable. The days of the press ignoring your mistresses were over, the ingrained habit of taking vast sums of dirty money was no longer acceptable, and the amusing occasion on which you spent the gold contents of the Bank of England on a night of rabble rousing causing the devaluation of the pound was suddenly a national outrage. I handed in my resignation and went looking for my next big opportunity.”