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Milf Teeth

It's Time for Kim and Kanye's Baby to Claim Her Rightful Position as Global Leader

Let's bow down to North West, our virgin lizard queen.

I feel a bit funny about Kanye and Kim's baby being born, as in my head, I was their baby. I was the soft, warm place where his megalomania met her seduction. I was their nervous affection. I was their milk.

And I feel a bit funny about Rupert Murdoch's impending divorce as I once had an exotic dream about him and now he's a single man, and he’s an old man and a dubious man with the physical appearance of two mugs of cold tea who don't like each other, and there’s no way to justify this, but in that dream, a woman had needs.

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And I feel funny about Nigella and Saatchi because apart from the way he keeps saying it was all just a little nothing, with the dismissiveness of a man who shovels the little head of troublesome little nothing people under a little patio, I also have this premonition that he’s going to drop dead of a heart attack any minute, and she will wear black and weep at his grave like a Spanish widow with a mantilla, and nobody will know how to fix the problem in newspaper columns any more.

But the thing I feel funniest about is the photographic evidence that the G8 summit has just taken place, in Northern Ireland, with the leaders of the world that was formerly known as free uniting to negotiate on trade, tax, donkeys, carrots and the disputed re-invention of wheels. Did you see the pictures? Have you heard? The most powerful people in the world have had their faces replaced by potatoes and lard, and they’re being pulled downwards by magnets. Our leaders have been summoned by their lizard progenitors; they’re being drawn back inside the molten core of the Earth. Look at them! So laced with regret it’s like they’ve been conquered by ghosts, their souls having taken flight somewhere over the Irish Ocean. I fear that the world’s rulers have disappeared entirely – they’re not even living inside their bodies at all. It’s going to be global anarchy by Christmas.

Even Obama looks sad, next to Putin looking bad, next to Cameron looking flustered, next to Merkel looking seriously nonplussed by the whole sorry lot of them. Merkel’s like, you can’t choose your family, and these jokers aren’t even my family, this is worse than Christmas at Grandma’s in the Black Forest with all my aunts disregarding my PhD in Quantum Chemistry and the fact I am the second most important person in the world and just endlessly asking me if I’m ever going to settle down and reproduce or if I’m actually a lesbian.

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President Barry Obama, the man with a windswept snub of sexiness, who usually rolls up his white shirt sleeves like he’s about to muck in and do the washing up of the world, now looks like someone pulled out his secret toggle and deflated him. And he didn’t keep calling George Osborne "Jeffrey" because he mistook him for some music dude. Surely you don’t buy that. He was calling the chancellor Joffrey after the evillest royal in Game of Thrones, the privileged brat who was born to rule and not give a fuck about anyone who wasn’t. Did you know that Osborne was born into an Anglo-Irish branch of aristocracy known as "The Ascendancy"? Obama knows that there is none more lizard than Jeff. Joff. George.

The truly weirdest thing about those G8 pictures is that they actually made me like David Cameron, just because he kept standing next to Putin, who was saying some mysterious shape-shifting sonnets about Syria and blood on people’s hands, as if his own hands aren’t moist with the haemoglobin of half a dozen Russian journalists and some musicians who’ve had to leave their kids to do hard labour in remote Siberian prison camps. It’s like a police line-up where one guy's obviously got the cold dead eyes of a hired assassin, and the one beside him’s just been brought in to bump up the numbers because his brother does the catering. I watched Cameron and Putin on the news, standing on their adjacent podiums, and it felt like gazing fondly at the ex who called you a fat slag, simply because he was standing next to your other ex, the one who killed your entire family.

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It’s not that there’s much to like about our prime minister. Even Roman slaves sometimes had the right to challenge their slave status in court, so try scrapping legal aid and see what side of history that leaves you on, ramface. But oh, Dave, I do so adore him when he’s in spitting distance of Vladimir Putin, who might have me sushi’ed to death for writing this, but look into his pure, evil eyes – the man’s primed to throw off the last traces of democracy and reboot in mad bad dictator mode. FOREVER. It’s in the orbs. His perfect desire for palaces and executions and private Beyonce concerts lies deep within those spinning whirlpools of malevolence and death. It’s pretty clear that the only difference between Putin and Saddam Hussein is two more years and two more hair transplants.

Which is why it’s time for Kanye and Kim’s baby girl to take over the world, even though her existence pushes me out of the running. They’ve called the child North West, which I believe is in homage to Dappy and Tulisa, who called their band N-Dubz after the London postcode, NW. As parents, they have a strong sense of what is right and what is wrong. “Anytime I’ve had a big thing that’s ever pierced and cut across the Internet,” said Kanye last week, “it was a fight for justice. Justice. And when you say justice, it doesn’t have to be war. Justice could just be clearing a path for people to dream properly.”

He did that awards ceremony thing to Taylor Swift to get justice for Beyonce! He shouted at George Bush as any righteous man should! His impulse is a righteous one! “It’s only led me to awesome truth and awesomeness at all times,” he explained. “Beauty, truth, awesomeness.”

Look, this kid might be a bit young but genetic determinism has already imbued her with the hunger for power, for smoky eyes, for constant internet connectivity and the freedom to go on stage in a mankilt and rap about slavery and pussy, and to walk proudly with a fantastically big arse. Let the new political dynasty commence. Arise, North West, our virgin lizard queen.

Follow Sophie on Twitter: @heawood

Previously – What Do 'Mad' Frankie Fraser and Peppa Pig's Dad Have in Common?