Blog Name: Reggie Perrin

In Patagonia there are people who can play the flute through their nose. Why do they do this? I take the train to Waterloo every morning. Why do I do that?

When I get to my office I throw myself into the task of designing new and exciting disposable razor products. Sometimes I combine this with exercise. This morning, as I type this, I am clenching my buttocks for three seconds, then releasing and resting for five seconds. According to our resident 'Wellness' and irritating bitch person, exercise releases chemicals into the blood which help us to enjoy our 'space'. Steven Hawking, he likes space. Clearly, he must be constantly flexing his buttocks, when he's not interfering with wireless broadband and minicab control centres.

Here at Groomtech we relish the challenge of hair removal for the masses. This is our mission statement. It's been laminated, so it must be true. If only Richard Nixon had laminated his alibi then he would never have lost the presidency. Razors are always changing and we like to stay at the cutting edge. That's not on the mission statement, I just made that up. Making stuff up is what I do, which is why Groomtech is so big in the trouser department. Sorry, I meant grooming and personal beauty. The size of Groomtech's genitals have nothing to do with this at all. In Patagonia, hordes of nose flute players spend a fortune on our products, just so that they can ensure a fluff-free nasal passage, perfectly prepared for hours of nose-flute playing.

I am often asked where I get my ideas from, to which I normally reply "Parsnips". This makes me look deep, plus I get a slight sexual tingle from watching boring dick heads wrestle with the inherent zen qualities of this concept. Parsnips, as a means of constructing a framework within which we can rationalise our own existence, have been ignored for too long. I always keep some in my desk drawer, so that during tedious progress meetings I can fantasize about carving them into suggestive shapes and then stuffing them up the backsides of my desperately vile colleagues.

Well, time to get on. Another progress meeting is scheduled, in which we will discuss the progress we have made on reading the minutes of the last progress meeting in which we discussed what we willbe saying in the next progress meeting which is in five minutes. Just enough time for more buttock flexing.

Best to keep this anonymous though, in case the Patagonian Embassy gets wind of it. Through their noses, of course.

Blog Name: Nick Griffin - My Struggle

Just come down from the loft. Our Secretary for Public Works, Albert Sneers, is designing the new London, or as I like to call it, "New London". Albert's created a marvellous "Parliament Palace of the People". It'll be bigger than the Eiffel Tower, wider than the Taj Mahal and shaped like a Spitfire. His model is coming on really well but he's running low on lego again so we need to get round those charity shops.

Had a meeting yesterday with Joe Gobbles, our PR whizkid, about the recession. Henry Himenher said why don't we blame the jews, bearing in mind their international plot to overthrow governments and dominate the money markets? I pointed out that actually I quite like jews and in fact some of my best friends have spoken to jews. Finally we agreed that we should blame Freemasons. Joe agreed to stage a midnight rally during which we would burn an enormous pile of books about Freemasonry, although not the one proving that Freemasons came from Atlantis and aliens built stonehenge, because that needs to go back to the library next Monday.

I've been really busy out in the garden. The patio has been cleared and Albert and I have dug down nearly five feet. Albert says it'll be a while yet before we can start pouring concrete, but hopefully the bunker will be ready for Christmas. Herby Goring popped over to "help" but, surpise surprise, the fat, lazy bastard just "helped" himself to the contents of my fridge then buggered off again.

Tomorrow I'm seeing our Secretary for Science, Wally Vonbrundebier, who is still working on the Vengence Weapon Mk1. This is supposed to be a ballistic missile. At the moment we have a "Mega ThundaBlasta" left over from bonfire night, in a milk bottle. It's time to asked Wally about progress, and about the 500 quid he's had to fund his research program and about the new Mondeo parked outside and his holiday in Sorrento. Basically I can't help thinking there's something fishy going on here. Last time he promised that progress would pick up now that he has access to slave labour. I reminded him that three Polish plumbers and a Serbian carpet fitter working cash in hand do not count as 'slaves'.

Anyway, now I'm in the European Parliament the cash will start rolling in and then we'll see some changes. Some smart black uniforms for the boys, maybe a few torchlight parades now that we can afford more batteries. I really fancy a place in the country, probably on top of a mountain. Anyway, all that to come but no time to waste. I'd better keep this anonymous though - the gutter press would just take it all out of context and call me 'racist' or some such nonsense. Untermenschen.