David Cameron – How I Destroyed Britain – as told to Otto English: part one of our exclusive serialisation

Early life

Before I could do anything, I had, like common people everywhere – to be born. In my case it was on the 9^th of October 1966. On that cold morning, as my mother cradled me in her arms, nobody could have predicted that I would grow up to become one of the top five Prime Ministers of the 21^st century.

After dismissing the names Quinton, Euripedes and Aubyn – my parents decided to call me Dave.

My early childhood was typical of most boys in the early 1970s. I played with Action Men, I watched Starsky and Hutch on the television – and at the weekends we’d chase foxes across the fields on horseback whilst my father shouted ‘Tally Ho!”

At the age of 13 I was sent away to Eton. Much nonsense is written about that establishment but it’s a perfectly ordinary place really. Certainly no different from any of the other major public schools founded in the 1440s by King Henry VI with fees in excess of £40,000 pa. Indeed in many ways it was far more meritocratic than the secondary moderns where my parents’ staff sent their children. Everyone was obliged to wear the same tailored uniform and starched collars and we all had to carry our own top hats; we played soccer football like other ordinary boys and there was even a black child there. Although none of us ever bothered to learn his name.

We were all sports crazy back then and it was on the playing fields of Eton that my lifelong love of the Arsenals was formed. I have followed that team’s progress ever since.

It was not always a smooth ride. In the months prior to my O’levels I was caught smoking cannabis while listening to the musical stylings of The Shadows on my Sony walkman – behind the tuck shop. After a bit of fuss and an apology to the beak I was gated. My other chums were not so lucky and one or two were even expelled. Although I deeply regret events – it did at least teach me a valuable lesson. Namely that no matter what you do wrong, if you keep your head down, give an insincere apology and stay quiet long enough – people might forget all about the mess you have made.

Brasenose Days

From Eton I went to Oxford and it was here that I became a member of the Bullingdon Club. My membership of that notorious dining society has been much criticised. In my defence being part of a gang of very rich boys, who smashed up places, laughed at poor people and then threw money at the carnage – before walking off into the sunset – was wonderful training for my later political career.

In between my studies I still had time to watch my team ‘The Aston Villas’ playing soccer and sometimes I found myself smoking marijuana once more. While I do not condone the use of drugs I do not entirely regret it – not least because it has managed to fill out some of the 750 pages of this book. Marijuana intensifies experience and I confess that when ‘high’ I could discover things in the lyrics of ‘The Bananarama’ or ‘Chicago’ that most ordinary people might miss.

It looked nothing like this

Career

Having left ‘college’, the time had come to find gainful employment. I was determined to make my own way in the world and so my father rang up some old school chums and asked them to give me a job. As luck would have it, I was immediately offered a position at Conservative Party HQ. Within five years I had become special adviser to Chancellor Mr Norman Lamont and was his key aide when Black Wednesday forced us out of the ERM. Mr Lamont is now considered to be one of the worst post-war Chancellors and a man who single-handedly destroyed the economy – but that is quite unfair. It was not all his own work by any means and it’s important to stress that I played a significant part in that legacy.

Norman Lamont – the greatest Chancellor Britain had between 1990 and 1993

Soon I was part of the famed Notting Hill Sect (surely set?). In between the endless rounds of cocktails, lunches at Kensington Place and society balls I still had time to get in touch with my ‘common side’. Sometimes I would go to the soccer stadium to watch my team The West Hammers play the beautiful game. Once when we were very squiffy on sherry, we ordered a take-away pizza! And on a hair-raising occasion I rode on the Underground Tube between Lancaster Gate and Queensway – just like other ordinary people.

Around this time I was also to meet Samantha, who was later to become my wife. These were hedonistic times, but having bonded over our mutual love of Elton John’s greatest hits and the film ‘Sliding Doors’ we decided to settle down and buy some more stocks and shares.

But I felt frustrated and worried about my country and its place in the world. Britain – so long in the grip of happiness, economic prosperity and progress needed someone to really fuck things up. My destiny was calling and I decided that it was time to become a Conservative MP.

Satirical content…… Part two next week