The continuing appeal of Tombo Harrison

One hundred and seventeen years after his death, the continuing appeal of Tombo Harrison remains a mystery to many.

This is the man who abolished the national health service, stole millions of people's pensions and started the civil war that killed 17 million people and led to the ceding of Scotland, Wales and Cornwall from Britain. This is the man who abolished the English language, introducing the much-hated combination of old Flemish and slang Slovak, which we finally thankfully banished at the end of the last century, after years of not really speaking much anymore.

Yet Tombo remains the most popular British leader, considered greater than Churchill, his hawklike frame as recognisable as Henry VIII's portly belly, he's the man all current politicians cite on a daily basis, the man everyone aspires to be like. Every day I walk down Harrison Street, along Harrison Boulevard and up Harrison Avenue, see the Harrison flag flying from every church and public building and, before starting work, join the rest of my colleagues in a rousing chorus of the Harrison Anthem.

I write not as one of Tombo's ideological opponents. My dislike of Tombo is based not on theory, but on fact, on the actuality of what Tombo did whilst Prime Minister, and in his spare time too, sometimes even during his sleep. As his sole surviving grandchild, I have access to the complete archive of Tombo's diaries, letters, emails and at least three treasure chests full of his secret contracts with bankers, lawyers, pirates and other corporates. These documents show, for example, his dirty deals in smoke-free rooms with tobacco companies, in which he agreed to reintroduce smoke-filled rooms, for a suitable fee.

Many biographers and historians have had access to these records, indeed I have sent copies, extracts and quotes to everyone alive who has written on the subject, yet strangely, over a century after his death, the collective memory of Tombo's reprisals still prevents even a single one of them printing the truth. The fate of the journalist who commented on Tombo's poor taste in trousers haunts history still. Overnight, yellow checked drainpipes became de rigour, a uniform most men would still continue to wear when I was boy, over fifty years later.

Tombo was great in some ways, of course. He was the first man to make an omelette without breaking eggs. He rose to power when the other senior members of his party all died mysteriously from omelette poisoning. He soon persuaded the nation to end the unnecessary bureaucracy of democratic government, leading to the Great Electoral Reform, whereby most of his opponents were put to the sword, as were many of his supporters and all of the don't knows.

Tombo particularly hated the don't knows. Some have argued that he was wrong to have had them all shot, but if they were so opposed to being killed they should have expressed an opinion about it.

Every once in a while I watch a recording of one Tombo's speeches, to remind myself why, after all these years, he remains so popular. Yes he destroyed everything that was Great about Britain, our wealth, our health, our history, our language and culture, not to mention most of Britain itself (where did he put Norfolk?). But, ultimately, when you hear him speak, you can understand his continued appeal. He did make some lovely promises.