Dear Mr Coppy

I saw you on the tele last night. You were being interviewed by that nice looking chap on TF1 and you were trying to convince us that come 2017, we (not me) should vote for you because... you'd changed... The journalist took you up on this and asked you one question of interest: why, when your party was in power, did it not implement the 'changes' it says are essential now? And you said, without a hint of shame, that it was because before, there was no urgent need. Actually, you said it the other way round. You said it was because la France is now up against the wall and the flames are licking the furniture.

In other words, your cosy, luxuriously-lined nest is being threatened, and so something must be done. Because, let's face it, Mr Coppy, politicians are like parasites, are they not? You don't agree? Well, let me tell you a story. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

Once upon a time, there was a host nation which was in quite good health. It bounded about making big noises in the world and other host nations paid attention. At times, its stomach rumbled and flared up, and at times, it was weakened and was invaded by dangerous infections like Nazism and its sneakier cousin, Socialism.

Sucking the life blood of the host were parasites. Parasites feed off the host but bring little if any benefit. The parasites on this host were no different. They spoke imperiously to the host from one orifice, but it was as though their words were emitted from another in a malodorous gaseous cloud, and lasted as long with as much effect.

Times were good and the parasites multiplied themselves like rabbits and brought in their mates until the weight of them became such a heavy burden on the host that they decided they needed another, bigger host. They created a big fat host from a number of smaller ones to feed the parasites whose nests needed refurbishing.

Meanwhile, the host was suffering. Its life blood was being sucked dry by the parasites and it was becoming weak and good for nothing. In its weakened state, it became open to infection and foreign disease. The parasites did nothing because their nests were still comfortable, with unlimited supplies of the red stuff. They gorged on it despite seeing that the host was in agony.

The foreign disease encountered nothing to stop it spreading and multiplying. It fed off the flesh of the host resulting in pockets of gangrene, the cells of which invaded the rest of the host and weakened it further.

Eventually, some of the parasites noticed that the life blood they fed off was at risk. It had a funny taste and seemed less abundant. The host was in a desperate state. The parasites argued amongst themselves. Some said they needed to suck more blood to get the host back to health. Others said they needed to fight the disease. No one wanted to admit that they were too great in number and too greedy for the host to support. Their nests were lined, their stomachs were full, they could not understand what had gone wrong.

And so they left the host to die, and flew to their holiday nests in the Bahamas which they had been lining in secret, just in case... The End.