One would expect this kind of insulting propaganda in the likes of the Badfort News but not on the online pages of a respected newspaper like 'The Guardian'.
Mind you, it has a reputation for being on the left - so I suppose I should not be surprised.
The only correct assertion, in this tissue of lies, is the fact that I favour purple for my dressing gowns.
I am meeting with my solicitors today to discuss what action should be taken.
As you know, I am not afraid of taking libels to Court if that be the only remedy.
Some of you have noticed that I am following Messers Ross and Brand on my twittering site. Let me make it clear that I am only doing this to monitor their behaviour - rumour has it that they are to have their own show on Badfort Radio. I wish to make it clear to both of them that I do not expect to find any 'messages' on my answer machine.
Badfort TV have announced that they are going to being showing a series of television plays in a strand called "Play for Today".
They claim that the present difficult economic climate needs to be reflected on television by having more gritty contemporary social realist dramas.
If you ask me this is just an excuse to let loose the forces of anarchy.
I have no doubt that they will be penned by disaffected writers who wish to produce propoganda material with a dubious Badfort slant.
This is not the kind of thing that people want to watch during hard times. They need cheering up. We need more excellent programmes of the kind made by the Badgertown Broadcasting Corporation. There is nothing better than relaxing in front of the TV and watching the like of "Lark Rise to Badgertown" and "Elephants Dancing Strictly on Ice".
Badfort TV claim that they too are providing entertainment for the depression.
They have started a new series called "Strictly Dance Marathon". This was a dance activity that was last popular in the depression of the 1920s and 1930s.
Badfort TV are inviting unemployed people to compete in the contests in order to achieve fame or win monetary prizes.
These marathons are in reality no more than tawdry human endurance contests in which couples dance almost non-stop for hundreds of hours - as long as a month or two.
They are designed to ensnare the greedy and the gullible. I hear that Alonzo S. Whitebeard, the well known miser, has entered the competition with Iama Goldsack.
They are well suited, for Miss Goldsack is very careful with money - she wears tarpaulin dresses to keep her wardrobe costs down.
They appear to be popular with the public - the fact that they have tied themselves together to stay upright has led to viewers admiring their pluckiness.
I think that it is an absolute disgrace - have we not moved on from the days of the gladiatorial arena?
Beaver has even had the cheek to ask for public funds for Badfort TV - claiming that its output is more worthy than that of the Badgertown Broadcasting Corporation!
Unfortunately, my good friend Barack stumbled over the oath of office yesterday. Mea Culpa. I am sure you will have noticed me amongst the gathered dignitaries. I admit my enthusiasm for the event got the better of me and I was somewhat over zealous in my waving of the Homeward flag.
The hypnotic sight of my trunk, in motion, clearly distracted Barack momentarily - causing him to misplace his words. I apologised to him profusely after the event but he shrugged it off. "We owe you so much, Uncle, and I am so glad you could spare the time to be by my side" he said.
He was quite nervous before the ceremony, but I did my best to reassure him. "It is true - the responsibilities of leadership are great. Like me you are from humble origins, and I too have many relatives in Africa, but I see in you the steely determination that I had in my youth and I am confident that you shall carry the burden well - as I have done." I said.
"I only hope that I can follow the example you have set for world leaders and conduct myself in as dignified a manner" he replied.
At this, readers, I admit to blushing a little.
I gave him a hand with his speech - correcting some of the poor grammer of young Mister Favreau, and throwing in a few ideas of my own.
I clearly upset Jon a little, perhaps being a little over critical of his writing.
The line "Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some," was not one of mine and I noticed Jon looked rather pointedly at me at that point. I suspect that he may have noticed that I had helped myself to an extra portion of the, rather delicious, Whitehouse banana cake the previous evening.
Clearly, however, Barack was thinking of me when he said "It has not been the path for the faint-hearted - for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things - some celebrated but more often men, women and elephants obscure in their labour, who have carried us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and freedom."
Some of the more observant of you will have spotted that he gave me a little wink at this point.
Barack insisted that I attend all the Inaugural Balls with him, so I was most relieved to sink into my bed (in the Lincoln bedroom) at the end of the evening - with a nice bucket of cocoa by my side.
Quantitative easing is a tool of monetary policy. Flooding the financial system with money, eases pressure on the banks by giving them extra capital.
This is not the same as 'turning on the printing press' - at all. Skeptics claim that just printing more money leads to the danger of hyper inflation.
But I am not printing more money - I am coining it. I am drawing on my reserves of gold to mint more Homeward Pennies.
This provides additional employment for the dwarfs of Homeward. The miners are now busy digging beneath Homeward for more gold and the goldsmiths are hard at working smelting the coins.
I have also adopted the economic theory of another famous economist - Milton Friedwarf. Each afternoon I take a ride in my helicopter and drop large amounts of cash out of it for the public to pick up and spend.
I have 'coined' (excuse the pun) a term for this economic action. It is called the "Manna from Heaven Financial Recovery Programme"
Heresy has turned to common sense, seemingly overnight. Even I can now see the advantages to some of the theories of the famous dwarf economist John 'Mad' Keen.
He suggested that unemployment could be lowered by an increase in hours. Indeed, for Keen this was the "ultimate solution" to the unemployment problem.
I have therefore changed the number of hours in a day from 24 to 28.
This means that, as each hour is now shorter, workers can complete their 8 hour working day in the equivalent of 6.857 old hours.
Reducing work time has not only extended the time during which the dwarfs can spend their income - and hence generate employment, but it also allowed jobs to be spread out more evenly across the available workforce, thereby reducing unemployment.
My new supermarkets, 'UnCo' Stores, are doing a roaring trade and even the dwarfs are happy, for a change, - more leisure time has provided a necessary boost to the quality of work and life for many of my workers.
The change to the clocks has provided a great deal of work for all the clockmakers of Homeward but has caused some confusion - with disagreement over whether teatime should now be 3 1/2 o'clock or the traditional 4 o'clock.
It certainly seems to have promoted a more relaxed and creative way of life. The dwarfs now come in their droves to hear my recitals at Uncle Hall and visitors to the Homeward Art Gallery at Crack House have increased ten-fold.
The only people who seem unhappy about this state of affairs are the staff and pupils of Dr Lyre's Select School for Young Gentleman.
It seems that Doctor Lyre is having to deliver his lectures at break neck speed in order to cover the syllabus.
You would think that the schoolchildren would be happy with less time at school - but apparently they are no longer able to sleep through his lectures because his usual sonorous and soporific voice has been replaced by a high pitched continual squeak.
With the economy in a parlous state I intend over the next few months to impart some tips for surviving a recession.
Firstly, it is important to consider how to cut your household bills and share your costs.
So why not take a bath with a friend or neighbour?
One of the Old Monkey's duties is not make sure that my bath water is the temperature I like it. So he always gets in the bath before me to test it. In order to economise I am allowing him to stay in and bathe with me.
I have also opened up my swimming baths and wash-rooms to the general public on a permanent basis for the duration of our economic difficulties. As you know, I normally only issue invites on special occasions.
The baths are so mysteriously located that even I do not know where they are. When I want to go I have to ring up WASH-HOUSES 39485765764756 on the telephone and Titus Wiley, the dwarf who looks after them, comes to lead the way.
These baths are a vast expanse of water but are located at the base of a small tower. It is a bit irritating to consider that, according to the laws of physics, it can't be there.
I have often puzzled over this and asked Titus Wiley for an explanation - but he just grins and says: "There's many things about baths, as people doesn't understand, as isn't employed there."
The building is so colossal that the end of it is only a dim shadow,
The wonders of it include a gigantic human face carved out of stone, which ejects a stream of water ten feet broad; a water merry-go-round made of dolphins, whales, porpoises, sharks and so on; and a gigantic raft which goes around the baths.
As I have opened the baths to all I could not, in all conscious, refuse admission to the Badfort Crowd.
They are extremely irritating, however, insisting on dive-bombing into the pool all over the place and upsetting the other bathers.
With the credit-squeezed people of Homeward tightening their belts, I had great hopes for a boom in domestic tourism.
But a report from undercover hotel inspectors published today reveals a grimy reality beneath the surface of the Homeward hospitality industry.
Pretending to be ordinary guests they checked into the four star Elephant's Trunk Hotel and found mouldy mattresses, stained duvets and dirty toilets.
I was outraged! - it is one of my hotels!
"I cannot believe it!" I bellowed at the Old Monkey. "That hotel was the crown jewel of my chain!...are things really that bad?"
"It would seem so, Sir," he replied "It has had only one guest in the last three months according to the manager."
"Who is the manager there?" I demanded.
"Headman, Sir" replied the Old Monkey.
"Yes, the Headman - but whats his name?" I said in exasperation.
"As I said, Sir, Headman, Sir" replied the Old Monkey.
"You mean the Headman is called Headman?" I queried.
"Thats right, Sir, Mini Gusts Headman" retorted the Old Monkey.
"What kind of name is that? - it sounds like a coastal weather report!" I spluttered.
I decided that we would have to go down to the Elephant's Trunk Hotel and investigate ourselves.
I disguised myself as a businessman, wearing my best business suit, and the Old Monkey disguised himself as my secretary.
As we arrived a family of Beavers were storming out the door.
"I wouldn't go in there mate - it ain't fit for animals!" declared the older Beaver "Charged us £100 for one night! - that Uncle, he's just a rip off merchant!" he shouted as he stormed off.
A disturbing sight met us as we entered the reception. A rather ugly, dishevilled man with disturbingly red hair sat with his bare feet up on the desk reading The Badfort News.
I noticed that rather than wearing the regulation uniform, that I issue to all my hotel staff, he was wearing rough garments of blue sack cloth.
"We would like a room for the night, Sir" I said.
Without moving from his languorous position, the man hooked some keys from the wall and threw them at the Old Monkey.
"There you go - Room 21!" he declared.
"How much will that cost?" I inquired.
"Five shillings and sixpence - take it or leave it" he replied without even looking up.
"Will someone take our bags up?" I replied.
"Look mate - s'budget hotel innit - carry them yourself" he remarked, without even glancing up from his paper.
The room was a disgrace. It was filthy and full of fleas. I stormed back to the reception.
"Your hotel is disgusting - it is full of fleas!. I demand to see the manager" I shouted.
"I am the manager. Mister Mini Gusts Headman. You must have brought the fleas with you. Everyone knows that elephants and monkeys are riddled with 'em"!" retorted the red haired man. "You not staying then?" he asked.
"I most certainly am not!" I replied.
"Still gotta pay your bill - I booked you in!" he said scornfully, and handed me a slip of paper.
I could not believe the figure scrawled on the bill.
"One hundred pounds! - you said it would be five shillings and sixpence!" I spluttered.
"Extras innit! you must have used broadband or watched some movies" he said winking at me.
"We were only gone ten minutes - this is ridiculous!" I spluttered.
At this Headman drew a giant club from under the counter. "Look, your not going to give Mister Uncle trouble is you?" he said threateningly.
At this I whipped off my disguise.
"Oh, lummy - rumbled I fear!" cried Headman, or should I say Sigismund Hateman! For at this point the Old Monkey ripped the red wig off Headman's head revealing his true identity.
I should have realised, for, of course, Mini Gusts Headman is an anagram of Sigismund Hateman.
Sigismund jumped over the desk and ran for the door - but I was able to catch up with him at the threshold in time to administer a grand kicking up.
The Old Monkey was distraught "He seemed such a nice chap at the interview - and look, Sir - he's been cooking the books. The hotel has not only had one guest in the last three months it has had hundreds. They have all been fleeced!" he cried looking at the hotel register.
"We must contact them all and recompense them. We shall get this place cleaned up and offer them all a free holiday!" I declared.
"Oh well done, Sir, your reputation will be restored" sighed the Old Monkey.
That evening a copy of the Badfort News was put through my letterbox. "Oh I am sorry, Sir, I have asked specifically that it not be delivered here anymore," said the Old Monkey apologetically.
"Never mind - let me see what nonsense it contains" I said.
UNC SACKS HIS WORKERS
It has come to the attention of the Badfort News that the tyrant Unc will use any excuse to cut his workforce in this recession. Today he brought fleas into his own hotel in order to provide an excuse to sack a member of his hard working hotel staff.
What further depths will the Dictator of Homeward sink to, so that he is cushioned from the hard times that the rest of us must suffer?
I decided that this would be an opportune moment to consult Wizard Blenkinsop on the prospects for the coming year.
He got out his giant crystal ball and we peered into it for revelations on whats to come.
"What is this I see!" he exclaimed "Mister Barack Obama paying a state visit to Homeward, wishing to hear your sage advice on saving the international financial market!"
"Yes, that is something I must put my mind to this year," I replied "I thought it would be only a matter of time before my advice was seeked."
"Oh and I can see that your plans will bear fruit!" declared the Wizard "Your knitting circles will be a great success."
I found this very heartening. The knitting circles are my latest economic initiative. They have a two fold objective - to find employment for those made redundant in the economic downturn and provide warm clothing for the harsh Homeward winter.
"Ha, I see that purple is to make a fashion comeback!" intoned the Wizard "the populace are so clearly enamored of the brilliance of your rule that they wish to emulate you in every way Uncle!"
"Sir, do you think that might be because you have given the knitting circles only purple wool?" queried the Old Monkey.
"No need to be so sceptical!" I chided him.
The Wizard looked deeper into the Crystal Ball.
"Oh this is splendid, Sir!" he cried "I see the Badfort Crowd shopping in one of your supermarkets! They must have turned over a new leaf and heeded your advice to citizens to shop till they drop to aid the economy!"
"Are you sure that your crystal ball is working properly?" I asked increduously.
It seemed unlikely behaviour for the Badfort Crowd.
"Wait...there is some interference...the mist is clearing...I can see now that...oh...." murmured the Wizard.
"Well, what is is? what can you see?" I said impatiently.
"Ur, well actually they seem to be looting the shop!" he said despondently.
At that point there was a crackle from the crystal ball and we could hear Beaver Hateman's voice from the future.
"Go to it lads, this is the way out of an economic recession! be discerning citizens, just leave on the counter what you think is a fair price!"
Through the veil of mist in the crystal ball we could see the Badfort Crowd turn out their pockets and leave some rusty nails, a ball of string and some old chewing gum as payment for the goods they were making off with.
I can see that it is going to be a difficult year.