We won the Glenrothes by-election and we didn't destroy the evidence

I'm glad to see those tuppenny losers Alastair and Peter have arranged for the press to be tipped off about about McNulty. It had to be done to distract them from the Glenrothes by-election inquiry. It would be a catastrophe of cataclysmic propertions if anything happened to deprive the country or the world of my irreplaceable economic talents. McNulty's not even Scottish so he's easily expendable.

Its a pity the Tory Tax story didn't take off as we planned. Someone needs to make it plain to Nick Robinson that his job, his future and his life depend on the Labour Party, with me at the helm, winning the next election.

Jade Goody, the twin I never had

My image managers, not that I need image managers but they play an insignificant role in the lives of with men of my high rank, said I have to say something about Jade Goody. They say we have so much in common. One of them, Andrew I think his name is, muttered that we had both monopolised the media and pretended to have a mandate from the public against all evidence to the contrary. I shall expect a fulsome apology from him once he has recovered from that nasty cut on his forehead.

I do know that Jade Goody, like myself, was frequently and mistakenly accused of being slightly plump.

A little bit of sunshine

Its about time the tightwad English taxpayers opened their wallets to show their appreciation of my success in piloting the country to pole position in the top ten of the world's best countries.

Sarah says she likes a bit of sunshine at this time of year so I've told one of the unimportant people work in the office to fix up a luxury break in the southern hemisphere.

They've come up with Chile which I'm told is pleasantly warm at this time of year and I can expect a bit of bowing and scraping from the Ambassador if he wants to keep his job.

That ashen-faced loon Miliband has taken to following me round like shit on a shoe so I'll have to think of some way to shake him off. I can't leave him in London or he'll be swanning round giving interviews and pretending he's me.

Me and my friend Nicholas Sarkozy

I love visiting my friend Nicholas Sarkozy who always takes me in his warm embrace and holds me close. Thank goodness his wife wasn't there yesterday to spoil things.

Dum de dum de dum de dum

Peter, or Your Lordship as he likes to be called, introduced me to his doctor. He suggested I took some strong tablets because he thought I was looking a bit peely wally but I refused until he gave in and put them on a teaspoon with my favourite Scottish loganberry jam. I have to keep a sharp eye on Peter. He wants me to sign a Power of Attorney in case I "become incapacitated". I have no intention of becoming incapacitated surrounded as I am by traitors and anyway he doesn't know that I've already signed one in favour of Dougie, or maybe it was Ed.

Barroso has put out the word already about the need to honour my great achievements in the field of economics. The Italian mafia have responded with a proposal to honour me with a Nobel Prize which of course I shall accept to please the Committee. The Ities want something in return of course which I'm sure can be arranged. I like to spread my largesse far and wide except among the English who must be kept away from quangoes, art galleries, the BBC and the House of Lords at all costs.

Petitions for advice from people who matter

Mr Barroso came in response to my summons. I made it clear I would add my very powerful and influential voice to his campaign for a second term even though that bastard Blair shoehorned him into his post just to please Bush. In return I will expect to be granted lots honours and photo opportunities with famous people as often as possible.

In the evening a number of businessmen attended an evening of fun, merriment and fundraising at No.10.

I slept badly last night as my Mr Snuffly blanket has gone missing again. When I eventually dropped off I dreamt that my friend Barak gave me a bomb-proof CIA cellphone in gratitude for my advice to him on how to run his economy.

My Very Good Friend and Admirer Ken Livingstone

Ken has been interviewed about his admiration for my economic genius in steering the country to full employment and prosperity for all. He thinks I'll support him in his hopeless ambitions to be Mayor of London. I'm sorry Ken but what London needs in a Scotsman in charge. It would be an ideal retirement hobby for Michael Martin or John McCall who've both served me well. Unlike Alastair who hasn't.

I think a good price could be put on the Mayor of London candidacy if one of my very close business associates was interested is augmenting the very depleted Labour Party current account - depleted through no fault of mine and nothing to do with me.

My Starring Role in the House of Commons

My Question Time was a triumph today. My public speaking tutor always records my performance so that she can suggest ways I can emulate other great leaders of the past - not that I need much tuition. I was born to attain high office and blessed with enviable oratory skills. I had to explain patiently that the unusually high number of deaths at the Mid Staffs NHS Trust was not my fault and had absolutely nothing to do with me or my policies.

Nick Robinson repeated his admiration for me on the BBC's Daily Politics as he was instructed to do. He also rubbished Cameron's performance because, as he's told me, voters are too stupid to make up their own minds and have to be told what to think. The Polling organisations are conspiring together to suggest that Cameron's ahead in the Polls. What a travesty of the truth that is. Don't they know that the public, like the heads of my subordinate states, wish me to go on and on. I'll have to make it clear to that aspiring usurper Harman that she needs to take off her widow's weeds and look a bit more enthusiastic and adoring next week.

I thought my new rubber corset made me look even slimmer than usual and usefully its also waterproof.

My new kilt arrived from Kirk Wynd this morning. I planned to wear it to meet my very good friend Barak off the plane when he arrives for the G20 symposium but the kilt they've sent is in the Cameron tartan. How can a eminent statesman like myself with important international problems to solve manage when I am surrounded by idiots at every turn.

There's been far too much in the papers about Alastair this week. The small and insignificant meeting he hosted last weekend and his flirting with Christianne Lagarde meant not enough attention was paid to me. Very few people seemed to notice that Angela Merckel came to Downing Street to ask me what she should do next. Germany is crying out for a strong Scottish voice to tell them how to manage their finances and they don't mean Alastair. Through absolutely no fault of mine the world's finances are in a bit of a mess and its my destiny to sort them out.

This morning I'm going to tell Iran that they can't have any nuclear weapons. That'll have them quaking in their boots. I'm also seeing some Africans this afternoon. I've decided to borrow some money from somewhere to give to Africa so they should be able to show me the appreciation I deserve but so rarely get.

Sarah didn't put any salt in my porridge this morning. I've tried and tried to explain about porridge but she just doesn't understand that porridge needs salt, lots of it.