Speak of the Devil: 2013

Something I've had in mind for quite awhile.... say hello to a real first class sleazeball...

“Friends, Romans, countrymen... lend me your ears. And I would appreciate it if you’d lend me the occasional bodily fluid sample I can switch over for one of my own if I ever get myself into a jam with the law again. That seems to happen a lot to me these days.

It has been a difficult year for Berlusconi Nation. 2013 will go down as an annus horribilus for your glorious Silvio. Hmmm... saying annus reminds me of the backside of that Moroccan stripper from the other night. Let me tell you, she had a backside that looked exquisite... and well, one thing led to another, and hey, I’m Italian. You can’t blame me for me being myself.

Like I was saying, it’s been a difficult year. I mean, getting convicted of tax fraud by the courts is ridiculous. Here I thought I had bribed all the right judges. They dare to sentence me? Well, the lawyers are still working on appeals, because even community service is unacceptable to a man of my position. I’ve got things to do. Money to make. A political movement to manipulate. Girls fifty years younger than I am to take to bed. Hey, don’t blame me for that... I’m Italian. What’s the problem with sleeping with girls who were babies when I was blowing fifty candles off my birthday cake?

If that wasn’t bad enough, some little loophole says I can’t serve in any public office for the next six years. So the Senate goes and expels me. Me, of all people. I’m bigger than any of them, and those little people have the audacity to expel Silvio The Great? How dare they?

I know what the press must think, hearing me talk about little people. I mean, sure, I’m five foot five at best... with maybe a couple of inches if I wear lifts in my shoes, but hey, size isn’t that important... at least not height. Size of another part of the body is important, and I assure you, the size of Silvio The Magnificent’s genitals is impressive indeed, even if I need a bit of help from Viagra these days. I’d show myself off, but we all know what happened to that American politician with the unfortunate name when he decided to keep sending pictures of his junk to strange women.

That’s not my point! My point is the Senate has no right to ban someone as stellar and accomplished as Silvio The Magnificent from their ranks. The courts have no rights to find me guilty of anything. I am in every way their superior. None of them have any right to judge anything I do. For I am Silvio, king of kings. Look on my works, ye mighty and despair!

You don’t suppose saying something like that is a sign of hubris, do you?

What I’m saying is that Forza Italia as a movement and an ideal cannot be dismissed. And I, as its head, will not be dismissed. I’m going to carry on. I have big plans, after all. Somehow the idea of Emperor Silvio seems to appeal to me. And I’m not getting any younger, so I’ve got to step up those plans as fast as I can.

You know, a man of my prestige, integrity, power, and responsibility needs to unwind every once in awhile. That’s why having my way with however many young girls at my bunga bunga parties has always been so crucial for my success. It helps me unwind. And they get to go home saying they had sex with the most important man in Italy. Well, maybe they should be a bit more discreet in what they say, but I digress. My point is that a man of my years and my position in life needs to be serviced by women fifty or so years younger than him. It keeps me feeling well. And so what if some people find that a problem? Who cares? I’m Italian. It’s to be expected of someone like me to go around doing something like that. If you’ve got a problem with that, it says more about you than it does about me that I’m boinking someone young enough to be my granddaughter.

I know, I know... I’ve seen the looks a lot of world leaders have on their faces when I’ve been around them at big summits. It’s as if they’re thinking, oh, God, not him again. Well, that’s not what they’re thinking. They’re thinking, what I wouldn’t give to be just like him. Yes, they’re envious of me. Well, aside from Angela Merkel. I swear... the woman has no sense of humour whatsoever.

So what if I like to have a good time? So what if I have my bunga bunga parties and have my way with whatever nubile young thing that crosses my path? What were you expecting? I’m Italian. It’s a thing I do.

Well, the year is almost at a close. 2014 will be a brighter year for Silvio The Magnificent. I am that much closer to overturning convictions and having that Senate ban undone. It just requires the right amount of bribes or blackmail. While I’m at it, I’m getting together with Francesco Schettino, who’s been having some problems with the law himself. We’re going out on tour to speak to the people. We’re calling it the What’s The Problem With That? We’re Italian tour. Catchy, don’t you think?

And I’ll be having lots of fun along the way all through 2014 even while getting all this other stuff done. Tweaking the nose of the Senate. Giving the courts the finger. Basking in the adulation of my people. Causing Angela Merkel to roll her eyes. Because, hey, I’m Silvio Berlusconi, true emperor of the next Roman empire... and I need to unwind after a long day.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m celebrating New Year’s with a bunga bunga party. Five ravishing young ladies named Francesca, Giulietta, Rosa, Evangelista, and Concetta are waiting for me at home, and we’re going to spend all week getting it on. I’m going to need a lot of Viagra.

What’s the problem with that? I’m Italian!"