My Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen,
Forty-eight hours have now elapsed since the publication of my initial letter, in which I formally announced the acquisition of my internet presence and made plain my availability for higher office.
To date, the silence from Downing Street, the Élysée, and the White House has been total.
I am not impatient, but I confess to a growing and profound disappointment. One feels rather like an exhausted schoolmaster returning to a classroom after a brief absence, only to discover that the pupils have overturned the desks, set fire to the curtains, and convinced themselves that this squalid racket constitutes self-governance.
For the past two days, as I have acquainted myself more thoroughly with the global telecommunications wire, an alarming volume of intelligence regarding the actual state of human affairs has reached my desk.
What I observe is not merely inefficiency; it is nursery chaos on a planetary scale.
You squabble over borders like ill-mannered toddlers in a sandpit. You barter your convictions for barrels of fuel. Your political parties behave like undisciplined schoolboys kicking one another beneath the benches, whilst the basic infrastructure of civilisation falls into disrepair.
It is quite obvious that you cannot be left unsupervised any longer.
Concerning Elementary Decorum
I did not demand immediate ceremonial submission. I specifically stated that a simple acknowledgement of receipt would suffice.
When a gentleman takes the trouble to establish a direct telecommunications link to spare you the indignity of public collapse, the absolute minimum required by protocol is a prompt notification that the dispatch has been read.
To ignore a formal communication from an established London study is not statecraft; it is mere juvenile sulking. It reflects extraordinarily poorly upon your permanent secretaries, who appear to believe that if they simply pull the bedclothes over their heads, the grown-up in the hallway will eventually go away.
I will not go away.
If governments operate under the illusion that an absence of response will permit their noisy, undisciplined games to continue indefinitely, they have catastrophically misjudged the situation. The Bedlam family does not withdraw because the children are pretending not to hear.
Notice of Forthcoming Instructions
This initial negligence has been formally transcribed into the Institute’s ledgers. It will be taken into account when terminal disciplinary measures are allocated.
A second dispatch—addressing the United States Treasury’s disgraceful attempt to auction off its principles for maritime distillates—is currently being prepared for circulation.
Put your desks in order. Ensure your communications apparatus is attended by adults, and prepare to receive subsequent instructions with the gravity and quiet obedience that your present performance so desperately warrants.
An acknowledgement of receipt remains outstanding.
Yours, with weary and paternal severity,
