|The Weekly Memo
Ahmadinejad and Blair Discuss Tweed Suits, "Blades of Glory"
By Suzanne Shepard
Apr 12, 2007
Dear President Ahmadinejad:
On behalf of the entirety of Britain, I ask that you kindly accept our sincerest gratitude for the release of all 15 navy soldiers and the 4 lbs. of pistachios. Things have quieted down here post holiday and it looks like your former hostages may even profit from the psychological 'abuse' and hospitality they experienced in your ancient country. Add that to the 'complete freedom enjoyed in captivity' as reported by the al-Alam network and you can imagine how well I slept last night. As ever, I am pleased we reached an agreement peacefully. Please remind me the Farsi word for détente. I suspect it will become a popular name in Camberwell in nine months time.
Dear Mr. Blair:
You are welcome for my grand gesture that granted life and liberty to your trespassing soldiers. Forgive and forget is what I have always said. Really, I wanted to do something that wasn’t about me for once.
I received an interesting Fed Ex from America yesterday. Beverly Hills mayor Jimmy Delshad sent me some delicious Faludeh Shirazi. I tell you, I haven’t eaten anything so lovely since 1979. But if the worldwide community thinks they can 'reinforce' good behavior with rose water Persian dessert, tell them that I have a satellite dish and watch the Dog Whisperer. So, I am the Dog Whisperer, not the dog!
Please call me Mahmoud, and if I may, I would like to call you Tony. I don’t have that many friends here. Everyone’s a cleric, right? I like your perspective of the world – I find it charming. Maybe we can keep this letter thing up?
Like I told First Sea Lord Admiral Jonathan Band, Happy Easter!
Again, thank you for letting our boys and girl out by week’s end. It really made my holiday. Easter, of course. I haven’t celebrated Muhammed’s birthday since my Oxford days (Muhammed Khan was my first year roommate. Ha ha.)
If it sounds like I need a vacation, you’re right! Four kids should be able to find a dozen hard-boiled dyed eggs but we came up 2 short and Cherie and I spent all afternoon on our hands and knees looking for the missing treasure. I remember when spending a few hours on all fours with the wife was an ideal Saturday. Seems like a lifetime ago. I hope you are well. I wish I still had the fire in my belly. I am so ready for my term of office to end. That’s probably obvious on the world stage. Putting on a brave face is getting harder and harder to do each morning.
On a happier note, I just saw Blades of Glory. When they do that Fire and Ice routine I couldn’t help but think of us last week. Wouldn’t that be great on Saturday Night Live? Would you mind if I made the call? You’re not the only one with a satellite dish!
Yours in arms (just kidding),
The dish is down and I am losing my mind. I asked my nephew about this Blades of Glory thing. Is it a war plane? I can’t give you an answer yet.
Ah! Why is everything so hard? I am working on a project right now (you’ll hear about it soon) and the country’s expectations are through the roof. Everybody expects me to be perfect. I just wish I had more room for error like you do. When you’re in the axis of evil, it’s A game, all the time. You’d shit yourself under this kind of pressure.
Dear Mah(moud)-chine (netflix Being John Malkovich, stat):
Happy National Nuclear Feast! Kudos to you for insuring Iran’s irreversible industrial progress. I hope you really seized the day and wore a tie. In England we dress the part – from the outside in - as opposed to all that ‘method’ madness you find in New York. Give me a cane and a coat of rags and I’ll give you Fagin. If you really want the four permanent members of the UN Security Council to take you seriously, you’ll lose the windbreaker and go bespoke - see the enclosed business card for my man Giles.
No wonder you’ve been so stressed. You know all of us NATO guys were betting on you dropping the Nuclear project. Easter Present Part II. Then you go and surprise the world.
Seriously, while I have really enjoyed our correspondence, this nuclear development is something I can’t abide. It’s a deal breaker for me – like smoking. You understand, right?
Take care and I’m sure I will see you at something official.
Really? Just like that? I wish I could turn off and on so easily.
Giles sent me my first tweed suit. I’d send you a picture but I’m afraid with what you’d do with it. Just so you know, I have a hard time trusting anyone, not just you, and this radio silence of yours is really stirring up some old business. You probably don’t want to hear what’s going on in my life. Why do these stories all have the same ending?
I’ll probably host another ‘Halocaust’ conference to take my mind off of it. I’ll get over it, Tony. In time.
I’ve said too much,
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