Jacqui Smith - A New Solution

I am, for the first time in months, incandescently angry at something or someone. And that someone is Jacqui Smith.

For anyone out there who hasn't heard of Jacqui 'Jackboots' Smith, she's the current Home Secretary, the petty-minded, authoritarian, bigoted, corrupt nannying embodiment of the moral and intellectual turpitude of New Labour: a woman who, while letting convicted terrorists claim benefits and refusing to allow the anti-Islamist libertarian Geert Wilders into England, dares to lecture those few conservatives who remain in opposition to her tacit fascism - the fact that there is now one CCTV camera to every 14 people in the UK, or 3,000,000, the national DNA database, the proposed legislation to force a free-born Englishman to carry ID even to go down to the shops on pain of arrest - of being 'soft on terror'.

This is a woman who, while spending £5,000,000 of taxpayers' money making ads threatening benefit cheats, has the gall to steal £116,000 in housing expenses and then, being cleared by a rigged committee, attacks the newspaper which leaked the story as 'irresponsible'.

This is a woman who tried to force through legislation allowing people to be held for 42 days without trial or even an offence being formally lodged against them. When this was (thank God) overwhelmingly rejected in the house of Lords, they were accused of not being patriotic.

This is a woman whose knowledge of British Parliamentary tradition is so lacking that she authorised police officers to violate the Magna Carta by arresting an MP in the Houses of Parliament itself. The last time someone tried this, in 1641, tens of thousands of people all over England (including my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather) rose up in arms to fight against the encroaching tyranny of Charles I. That no similar outcry was made this time is symptomatic of our emasculation as a nation by unaccountable, unelected elites.

This is a woman who, reduced in popularity in her constituency to the extent to which her husband is forced to write letters into her constituency's newspaper under an assumed name praising her, is planning to do a 'chicken run' - flee to another, safer Labour seat.

Despite all this, she is still valued enough by the incompetent Brown administration to remain third-in-command at Labour HQ after Brown himself and Harriet 'Harperson' Harman, a woman who looks and sounds more and more like Rosa Kleb with every passing day. Clearly, desperate times call for desperate measures. So, how can the British public neutralise her, either politically or literally? Three options spring to mind:

1. Donate the odd £10 to the Conservative Party every now and then. Redditch is a particularly high-profile target for them, given Smith's pathetic 1.5% majority and her importance to a rapidly-imploding Labour party.
2. Forward all of your junk e-mails about penis extension and Crown Princes of Nigeria needing to use your bank account to smithjj@parliament.uk.
   
3. If you're an attractive woman, you could always try to sell a story (complete with photoshoot of you nearly naked) - MY NIGHT OF LESBIAN LUST WITH HOME SECRETARY - FORMER GO-GO DANCER REVEALS ALL! - to the Daily Sport.

All excellent options, I'm sure you'll agree. However, another, slightly more controversial idea, presents itself: someone could set a website up, jacquismithdeathpool.com for instance, to which people could donate money on the understanding that it is given to the person who predicts the hour of Smith's death, either by natural or unnatural means, the most closely. I predict an enthusiastic response.