Saved From The Skip

Sunlight streamed in through Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's window, and the Iranian president awoke to realise that he'd forgotten to set the alarm clock.

"Death to Israel! Death to America!" he murmured, half asleep. Then he hauled himself out of bed and stumbled into the shower.

There was no hot water.

"Death to America! Death to Israel!" he roared to himself under a jet of ice cold water. Somehow, the words seemed to make the discomfort easier to bear.

Upon arrival at the Presidential Palace, Mahmoud was greeted by a throng of security officials.

"Greetings, your presidency. There are a few thousands university students in the courtyard. They've been camping there all night. They are expecting you to say a few words..."

"Students? Words?" Mahmoud replied. "Sure. Hand me that microphone, will you?"

"DEATH TO ISRAEL! DEATH TO AMERICA!" he bellowed over the Presidential sound system.

The students cheered wildly, and immediately took to the streets of Tehran, praising the greatness of God and burning Israeli and American flags at every street corner.

Satisfied, President Mahmoud popped into the Iranian presidential canteen for a late breakfast.

"I am sorry, your presidency," said a concerned looking head waiter, "but we are all out of Waldorfs."

"WHAT?" thundered Mahmoud, banging his fist on the table. "No Waldorfs? Death to Israel! Death to America!" And with that he stormed out of the canteen.

Outside in the road, still grumbling to himself, Mahmoud stopped at a newsagent and bought a copy of the afternoon Iranian Post. Turning to the obituaries section, he found himself reading the following notices:

"ISRAEL - Proud nation and homeland of the Chosen Race, passed away suddenly at the age of 58. Leaves to mourn her loss a few million Israeli citizens, and countless other Jews worldwide. RIP."

followed by;

"THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - Land of the free, home of the brave, passed suddenly and inexplicably away at the age of 220. May the Lord grant her eternal rest. RIP."

Mahmoud gazed at those announcements for what felt like an age, and felt a vast emptiness growing inside him as the implications slowly sunk in.

Suddenly, a car drove through a nearby puddle and splattered the Iranian president with mud.

Mahmoud turned around, shook his fist at the vehicle as it sped away, and opened his mouth to shout:

"Death to... to... Death..."

The car had already disappeared when he finished his sentence

"Death to... DENMARK! Death to... ITALY!"

And with that, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad nodded once or twice in self-reassurance, tucked his newspaper under his arm, and strode back to the Presidential Palace to get some work done.