Festive greetings my Western friends! Bashar here to tell you all about what has been a very busy year, one that ended with the
genuine Christmas miracle, for myself, my family, and the whole of Syria. We are happier than ever over here!
Yes my friends, little did I suspect one year ago when I hid from gunfire under the counter of popular Aleppo kebab shop, that
twelve months later all my dreams would come true! That is, apart from the recurring one where I marry Allah (who is the
vision in white) against beautiful backdrop of American Niagara Falls with Henry Kissenger as my best man. Still, is good this
not happen in real life - fragrant wife would not be happy!
No, the dream Bashar refer to is that of the United States military-industrio complex recognising me as their new BFF! Yes, 2014
will go down in Syria history as year new best bud Barack Obummer realise he not hate al-Assads and our funny little ways
anymore - he love us! Maybe you not know it my friends, but for months now you have all been my allies! You Brits especially!
Your ‘special relationship’ is now my ‘special relationship’! We are in what you might call the ‘three-way’! Ha ha!
The last few months have been very much the whirlwind for me and cute little Assad family. Bashar barely have time for Christmas shopping because of important meetings so Asma agree to
jet-set off to Dubai and Westfield with credit cards to do it for me - she is such a supportive wife. It is good I not have more stress this December. Bashar already
take on great responsibility for place he rule with friendly iron fist. We are now playing host to Yankee pals who come to help whole world by spraying airstrikes in every direction, trying
to hit those bad, bad men from the ISIS.
Much as I value President Obummer’s input, I wish he would listen to me in first place when I say that ISIS problem routinely exaggerated by media
who fall for stupid online propaganda. I assure US that terrorist problem round my way under control, and naughty ISIS definitely not set up strong
and durable caliphate anywhere in badlands of Northern Syria. Not on my watch. They are simply excitable idiots who somehow access Twitter from
rocks they live under, probably using primitive modem built from string. Believe me friends, when I say Bashar not wish to contribute to national
stereotype, but it annoying for honourable ruler when bullheaded general fail to listen to truth spewing out of my mouth. So now I am stuck with fine
Syrian soldiers driving tanks through cities under my control, telling loyal citizens Yankee Doodle-Dandies are here and must be made welcome. Anyone not relaxed and hospitable in
US presence risk having his toenails removed with pliers, one by one.
But what is fab is that last of fucking annoying UN inspectors have been escorted to airport and away by the red, white and blues. By way of payback Bashar forced to pretend
ISIS big fucking problem after all. Forget smelly rebels; this is Bashar’s new calling - to help President Obummer wipe concept of terrorism off face of planet. Soon coalition of
willing start up ‘Operation Inherent Resolve’ from some of my favourite airbases, pounding jihadi fucks back into sand, from where they come. Even though we not confirm any
terrorist casualties so far, and redneck Yankees have no bloody idea what they’re doing, Bashar know it in gut - we are winning. Even if we are not (which we are), any
suggestion new pals would go back to silly idea of funding rebels to overthrow Bashar is off table forever. This the most important thing, I’m sure you agree.
And it is great news for people of Syria too, that their favourite ever leader now have insurance policy. Bashar table agenda item at last
coalition meet, saying any who express anti-Assad words must be seen as sympathetic to ISIS and treated like enemy combatant. This narrowly passed and that is when I realise
Bashar can never truly repay our well-fed saviours. Still, we must do something to show gratefulness to barking colonels and their state of the art weaponry, the sight of which make
my Army Chiefs openly salivate.
If there is one thing exposure to your Western culture has taught Bashar, from classic cinema such as remake of Miracle on 34th
Street or Santa With Muscles starring Hulk of Hogan, it is that violent American imperialists love Christmas more than anything
(except armed conflict). And so, earlier this week, Bashar and family invite American military to very special festive dinner at
gold-plated and newly mortar-proofed presidential palace!
And did we put on the spread! You can see for yourself, on official Assad Instagram account, but let me tell you how al-Assad kiddies put up thousands of gaudy
decorations, including bloodstained fairy hanging from tree and paper chain amputee, while fragrant wife outdo herself in kitchen, threatening cook so hard she almost
shit herself. Asma demand turkey be cooked to perfection or domestic staff suffer thorough beatings, probably ending up in intensive care at recently shelled hospital
downtown. Thanks to fragrant wife’s efforts, they do an excellent job.
Meanwhile Bashar schmooze all night with new friends, shaking privates by hand and getting past ranking officer standoffishness with sherry and happy sing-song of ‘Jingle Bells,
Batman Smells’ and ‘I Saw Mummy Blowing Santa Claus’. Loud Yankees can be such fun when shitfaced. The only sadness for Bashar was that other best friend Putin could not
be there, but such are the problems of international diplomacy. When you are universally loved figure on world stage like me, sometimes you must keep your besties apart, for fear
of awkward moment in conversation or major international incident. Hopefully Vlad come to Bashar intimate New Year’s shindig and we can all celebrate his fixing of the Russian
economy and discuss upcoming annexation of Moldova.
Back in modest palace home a hundred Yankees and al-Assads settle down for dinner of golden-brown dead flesh with cranberries. Debate then turn to unsportsmanlike behaviour of
jihadis my Americans friends come to kill. My eldest, Hafez, make his old dad proud by joining in debate, saying things he and schoolfriends will do when they get their hands on ISIS
tosspots. I will spare you the details my friends (it is Christmas after all – goodwill to men!) but needless to say, Hafez fantasy involve hot pokers, many orifices and slow removal
of eyelids. Such an imagination, that boy! His mother smile with pride all the time while younger brother and sister make supportive gestures and stab waiting staff in head with forks.
I then have my own brainwave and suggest we capture extremist to film us beheading him and get our own back; me and my American chums. Give the terrorists a taste of their
own medicine, that’s what I say. We will make sure to use equipment borrowed from Hollywood, promoting high production values and get more YouTube hits than enemies. Win battle
for hearts and minds!
It seems Yankee soldiers do not eat as much as you might expect for big fucking obese race. They stop then and stare at lovely Assad family for while and not even stay
beyond yearly Bashar trick of pouring brandy over Christmas pudding and setting alight. But as waiting staff meekly hand fine, shaven-head men their flak jackets from the
cloakroom, I call out invite to traditional Assad Boxing Day barrel-bombing and lean back in heavily bejewelled chair, listening to ring of bells and beep of smoke alarms and think
how far I have come in a few short months. Last year I conquer Russia, this year America, next year - the world! Everything is here, all of it at the Assad feet. As my incredible
journey continues, I will make sure to take all my wonderful readers with me!
A very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, from Bashar and Asma Claus!
