How To Conquer The World

I intend to conquer the world, and I have a plan to do it. I am so confident that it will work that I am going to share it with you.

Before I tell you my plan, I have a word of warning: you are either for me or against me and if you are against me then you will suffer a fate worse than death.

The very first thing I am going to do is to build a colossal space ship to explore the stars and work will start on this as soon as I seize power. This spaceship will serve two purposes:

(1) To explore strange new worlds and seek out new life and new civilisations to annoy.

(2) To rid the world of everybody that irritates me.

You see, I plan to capture all of those people who make my blood boil, stuff them into this massive spaceship and send them on their way. I don’t intend to kill anybody (I am a benevolent leader) so the spaceship will be equipped with all the know-how to feed all of those irritating “guests”.

In fact, I will be making sure that certain celebrity experts will be on the spaceship too.

Jamie Oliver will be on hand to cook their food along with Anthony Worrall Thompson and other TV chefs who make me hurl food at my TV whenever they appear.

If any “guests” need help or advice, they will be able to talk to Jeremy Kyle and Vanessa Feltz.

Entertainment will be provided too. I will supply a vast library of all of those TV shows and movies that I hate. You will, for example, be able to see “X Factor” live because Simon Cowell will be on the ship with Louis Walsh, Cheryl Cole and Piers Morgan.

The movies you will be able to enjoy will include Marley and Me, Serendipity, Sex In The City, Independence Day, Dead Poets Society and many other such dreadful wastes of celluloid.

All cookery programmes, talent shows, desperately unfunny situation comedies, reality TV shows (except the Apprentice), house improvement and gardening shows (no gardens in outer space my friends), psychic shows and those awful daytime chat shows will form your televisual entertainment.

Music will be provided by Take That, Boyzone, jazz bands, R’n’B, hip hop, opera and all artists who perform in the other genres I despise. I’m sorry, lads, but Beyoncé will not be on the space ship; she will be undergoing intense training to become a heavy metal vocalist.

And, of course, there will be no rock music on the spaceship whatsoever – apart from Nickleback, Linkin Park, Limp Bizkit and Bon Jovi.

Other celebrity guests will include Katie Price, Mariah Carey, Chris Moyles, The Spice Girls (I might spare Victoria Beckham just to keep David happy), Peter Mandelson, Paris Hilton, Max Clifford (and anybody he has ever represented), Britney Spears, Russell Grant, Naomi Campbell, Kanye West, Amanda Holden, Celine Dion, Derek Acorah, Liam Gallagher, Richard and Judy, Anne Robinson, Camilla Parker Bowles and many many more.

As you can see, if you are against me then you may find yourself in a gigantic spaceship with the most annoying people in the world. If you are a woman you could find yourself being courted by Piers Morgan. If you are a man you may find that Vanessa Feltz is stalking you. Now you understand why I refer to life on board this ship as a fate worse than death.

Anyway, I am getting ahead of myself.

"What is this masterplan?" I hear you cry.

First of all, let me tell you what I need.

(1) A crash course in hypnosis.

(2) An Oprah Winfrey mask

(3) A gorilla suit

(4) A big rubber hammer.

(5) A one way ticket from Manchester to Washington D.C.

(6) An army of interpreters.

So where do I begin?

I did a little bit of research and discovered that “The Leader of the Free World” is some bloke who lives in America and calls himself Barack Obama. He is also known as “The Most Powerful Man in the World”, which is surprising because I thought that was Chuck Norris or Mr T.

Everybody in the world seems to like Mr Obama. I even heard a comedian in Britain say that the person we want to win the British election is in fact Barack Obama, so unless the comedian was joking or one of the fringe British party leaders has the same name, I think that perhaps he might be a popular choice (especially given the three stooges we have trying to woo us at the moment).

I have done extensive, detailed and exhaustive research on Mr Obama and discovered that we have a couple of things in common:

(1) He is in his late 40’s (he is 48, I am 47).

(2) He is a man (I was last time I checked).

That’s about it really.

In every other respect he and I are totally and utterly different. Obama is the epitome of cool; I am a geek with sentient hair.

Mr Obama is so cool that he oozes charisma like I ooze sweat. This is a man who swatted a fly on national TV and joked about being born on Krypton – except I reckon he isn’t joking. He is so cool that my cats watch him on TV.

So how do I overthrow the King of Cool?

First, I must become the world’s greatest hypnotist.

This is the key part of the plan. I got the idea from watching Derren Brown, a fascinating individual who can screw with your mind. Hypnosis is one of his many talents and I have seen him do all sorts of weird and wonderful things to a mixture of people. I can learn a lot from a man like Derren Brown.

Once I have mastered the art of hypnosis and mind control, the next part of my plan is to use my air ticket to fly to Washington D.C. before taking the White House by storm.

How will I do that?

Apparently it is possible to get tours of the White House; I will pretend to be a goggle-eyed tourist (which shouldn’t be too difficult) and once inside I will hide somewhere, perhaps under a table or inside a broom cupboard or maybe behind Hilary Clinton’s ego.

I will wait patiently, biding my time, until I get the opportunity to sneak into the Oval Office. This is where my hypnosis skills will come in handy. Ideally I will collar a lone guard and hypnotise him into thinking I am a cleaner or perhaps George W Bush – the latter will be easier because I’m sure that former President Bush still wanders around the White House trying to find his way out.

If I fail to make it to the Oval office or my plan is thwarted by an over-enthusiastic White House guard-type person then I will have to unleash plan B, my secret weapon; the Oprah Winfrey mask.

I will just whip it out and slap it on – the mask I mean.

Why Oprah Winfrey?

Because everybody in America loves Oprah Winfrey. I won’t even have to speak; all I will need to do is stand with that painted on beatific smile and I will melt even the most resolute concrete hearts. A murderous guard, who is ready to kick my arse into the middle of next week, will melt like a bar of chocolate in a wok when confronted by Oprah and will personally take me to meet Mr Obama.

If that fails then I will have to resort to plan C – bop the guard on the head with the rubber hammer.

Assuming I actually make it into the Oval office and find myself alone with Mr Obama I will proceed to hypnotise him, ruthlessly and efficiently forcing him to obey my every whim.

His first task will be to declare me as his best mate; I will become cool by association and America will love me so much that I will be able, at this stage, to discard my Oprah Winfrey mask.

With Mr Obama behind me, the world will be my oyster. I shall borrow Air Force One and, with my army of interpreters, I shall visit all of the world leaders, hypnotise them using the medium of sign language and mime, perhaps performing a hypnotic impression of Marcel Marceau (which come to think of it might not work with President Sarkosy of France – I may have to rethink my approach with him).

Finally I shall return to Britain in triumph; Manchester will become the capital of the world and I shall rule with a rod of iron, scolding people in my wake, sending all my enemies into space to find a new world to irritate and putting those who cross me on the naughty step in Siberia.

If you are with me say “Aye, Master!”

If you don't believe me, dear reader, be warned! You could find yourself shacked up with Sarah Palin, Kanye West or Richard Madeley on a one way trip to planet Tharg.

Actually, I have forgotten one thing – the gorilla suit. I need that because I like to dress up as an ape.

No, not really.

I will need that to disguise myself when I’m in Mrs PM’s bad books.

I am nothing if not realistic and I know that the one person who can foil my plans is my beloved lady; there is no way she will ever refer to me as her leader – even under a deep trance.