Son: Dad, I have to do a special report for school. Can I ask you a question?
Father: Sure, son. What's the question?
Son: What is politics?
Father: Well, let's take our home for example. I am the wage earner, so let's call me †œTony Blair.ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šà ¬Ã‚ÂÂ
Your mother is the administrator of money, so we'll call her †œGordon Brown.ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šà ¬Ã‚ÂÂ
We take care of your needs, so we'll call you †œthe People.ââ‚à ‚¬Ã‚ÂÂ
We'll call the au pair †œthe Working Class,ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šà ¬Ã‚Â and your baby brother we can call †œthe Future.ââ‚à ‚¬Ã‚ Do you understand, son?
Son: I'm not really sure, Dad. I'll have to think about it.
That night, awakened by his baby brother's crying, the boy went to see what was wrong. Discovering that the baby had seriously filled his nappy, the boy went to his parents' room and found his mother sound asleep. He went to the maid's room where, peeking through the keyhole, he saw his father in bed with the maid. The boy's knocking went totally unheeded by his father and the maid, so the boy returned to his room and went back to sleep. The next morning he said to his father.
Son: Dad, now I think I understand what politics is.
Father: Good, son! Can you explain it to me in your own words?
Son: Well, dad, while Tony Blair is screwing the Working Class, Gordon Brown is sound asleep, the People are being completely ignored and the Future is full of sh*t.