Hello, Dear Boy! I'm Evil Incarnate.

But you may call me "Mister Prime Minister".

The British elections have come and gone and Merciful Jesus, how are we poor, dumb colonials supposed follow all the scandal and intrigue?

The intricate, political gandy-dancing in flavors both subtle and gross.
Entrenched power, bought-media, men with odd heads and dodgy dentistry scooting around behind the camera.

Broken promises. A narrow, almost-hollow victory and a future suddenly roiling (and Royaling) with dark clouds and ominous portents. And not a Runaway Bride or Paula-Abdul-faux-fuxposee anywhere to keep my frontal lobes properly Junk News Drunk.

Shit, you mean I gotta actually think about this shit? With no Political-ADHD-friendly “Pause” button to sugar up the aspirin?

Bastard!

What, you want I should also wear a catheter to watch, “Now” now (although Bob Barr’s recent appearance did provoke certain involuntary anatomical reactions that are perhaps best left unarticulated)?

Fear not, my sampling-crazed amigos: now all you need to know about hellish, Macbethian underside of politics of “this royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,—
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.”

…come in a nifty boxed-set Three-DVD collection covering all three programs (sorry, should call them “programmes” I suppose) suitable for gifting…or for hoarding, or for renting, or for whatever other creative uses that I certainly would never advocate might come to mind.

I am referring to the magnificent “House of Cards” trilogy, originally aired on the BBC and just now available on DVD which, through some miracle of prescience, begins with the incumbent party in Britain narrowly winning re-election, and the chain of events that empty “victory” triggers.

It is…majestic. Operatic. And it goes on episode after voluptuous episode, and is very much not for children. The whole cast radiates a kind of lurid energy but it is Ian Richardson’s performance as Francis Urquhart -- playing him with full-throttle, Richard III calculation and gleeful evil -- that makes this one for the ages.

Go now and get this. Rent, buy, borrow…no questions will be asked.

And once you’ve seen Francis Urquhart’s serial coups and assassinations executed with such chortling, courtly delight -- dropped directly into your co-conspiratorial lap by his chipper, insightful asides – you will not only be entertained, horrified and thoroughly sated, you will also realize this:

Compared to Francis Urquhart, Tom DeLay is a fucking child.