Dear Mr Prime Minister,
You've had a rough time lately. You party is in disarray. Your popularity rating has never been lower. You've resorted to acknowledging that Ed Miliband exists.
So I have a solution: invade America. For exactly 237 years today, the United States has been a sovereign nation, advancing the ideals of liberty, democracy and the right to hole up in bunkers with a lifetime worth of Cheez Whiz and ammunition. They've had their chance at glory. Now it's yours.
Don't pretend you haven't thought about it, Dave. No. 10 gets cramped. Promises of balmy summer barbeques always fall flat and instead of purpose-built armoured vehicles you have to wobble around London on a bike.
You can't tell me you haven't dreamt of sashaying through the White House, inviting Barry 'round for an awkward game of table tennis and then popping out to the Rose Garden for some tasty buffalo wings. You want to be ferried around in the sleekest, most expensive tank on the planet, even if it's just to go two blocks to appease George with a $9 American hamburger. Especially if you can ride in a motorcade for a hamburger. And just think of the rooftop snipers! You don't actually have to be cool when you have a crack team of sharpshooters at your disposal, not to mention the ability to launch a drone strike every time Boris flippantly drops some backhanded compliment.
Speaking of Boris: you could permanently dislodge that faux-bumbling thorn from your side by appointing him Minister for Right Wing Lunacy and Silly Hair, thereby deposing his American counterpart, the only man on the planet with a more slavering commitment to unchecked capitalism and ludicrous locks. Get rid of The Donald and you'll win over average American people and appease the bankers with BoJo.
Of course, how to actually accomplish the re-colonisation will be your primary concern, but not to fear: Americans love their one-time rulers (or at least their accents). Just look at their reaction to the royal wedding. Nothing, but nothing, gets Americans out of bed at 5 a.m. or pretending to like milk in their tea, but even people who equate applying for a passport with treason got up at dawn to toast Diana's kid and his glossy maned muse. They decked miles of bunting and baked scones by the millions. They waved the Union Jack and wore fascinators.
Wills and Kate's inspired PR triumph of future-king-and-commoner-love-against-the-odds is like the American Dream, the Protestant Work Ethic and Hollywood all mashed up together. Now they're having a baby? Just plan to launch your initial strike as soon as news of the royal sprog's arrival and no one will even notice the infiltration of funny sounding, gin-swilling bureaucrats, they'll just think the Congressional delegation from Boston has ballooned.
Boston may be your one sticking point, since they have a history of getting worked up over things like taxation without representation and rival boy bands. But never mind. Put a few symbolic ships filled with Marmite in the harbour and let them have one final act of rebellion. The eastern seaboard will have to contend with the stench of fermented vegetable paste for a while, but it's baseball season so the Marmite funk will coalesce pleasantly with the smells of stale lager and crushed hopes mingling outside Fenway Park.
Need more reasons to take the special relationship to that next level? Well for one, the first wives will thank you. Michelle can stop pretending she only cares about fashion and actually return to her own career, and SamCam can stop pretending she actually cares about a career and return to only following fashion. It's a win-win for both of them.
You'll no longer need to prove your masculinity by pushing through the high-speed rail project when you have thousands of miles of Amtrak and a fleet of super sexy Greyhound busses. Air Force One and Marine One won't do much for your green credentials, but the Washington Monument just needs a wind turbine plonked on top and the environmental lobby will fall at your feet.
Britain won't have to worry about being the fattest country in Europe when America joins as UKWest, and your constituents back home will thank you for finally making Taco Bell, Jell-O and Baconnaise accessible to all.
Most of all, reclaiming the United States solves that yearly problem of what to give the queen who has everything. True, she'll turn around next year and expect you to secure Mexico so she can have the complete set for her Continental Commonwealths collection of tea towels. Just tell her she can have the tune to "My Country 'Tis Of Thee" to herself again, and then sit back and order the Royal Navy on one last junket before you decommission them.
Happy Re-dependence Day, Dave. Get in there before the sun sets.
Photo 1: Simon Allardice
Photo 2: DB King
Photo 3: Official White House Photo by Lawrence Jackson