There seems to be some issue about the veracity of whether or not there exist a secret, all-powerful group of lizards controlling this planet, and I should like to contribute my two cents to the debate: I would like at this point to give my personal assurances that, indeed, the majority of the leaders of the world are in fact blood-drinking lizards. Except John Major who is, in fact, a blood-drinking ferret.
Most meetings of my blood-drinking kindred tend to take place in the Christmas season between Dec 16th and Jan 10th, which is also when we plan most of the world's natural disasters. Earthquakes are a perennial favourite, although the Chimpy McHitlerburtonites tend to favour large, destructive waves, since these have the double advantage of being i) instruments for mass murder which also ii) get things squeaky clean for the takeover of the region by our equally bloodthirsty lizard spawn, or sometimes just by American tourists.
Many people have questioned the reality of our absolute control over your planet of several hundred cultures, over 100 nations, dozens of official languages and societo-economic conditions ranging from educated, industrialized societies to Pat Robertson and Arkansas, but do not be fooled by the assertion that we do not exist. We are every bit as real as your inner paranoias, your fidgety self-esteem issues and your unspoken predilection for tinfoil hats. I would like to add here that, in fact, tinfoil hats do specifically not block our mind-probe waves, but rather - in a brilliant bit of counterinformation - actually serve to increase signal gain on our reception instruments, allowing us to read your mind as easily as a pajama-clad man reads a conspiracy website by the light of the noonday sun streaming in through his parents' basement windows.
In fact, signal gain is so much improved that occasional scatter from our equipment sometimes gets re-sent to the minds of people in houses nearby, sometimes even to those houses you're watching through high-powered binoculars. Telescope users appear particularly susceptible. So, for all those of you wondering whether or not your neighbours do in fact know what it is you masturbate about while in the shower - they do. They know everything. Yes, even about that one, you pervert. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. One of the best ways to avoid shower signal-scatter (SSS, as we sometimes call it, which in our hissing reptilian language is particularly easy to render and is usually accompanied by an emphatic tail-smack) is simply not to think at all about your genitals while bathing, showering or otherwise cleaning your repulsive smooth skins. Or not to not think of them. It's one or the other. Frankly, we think you hideous meat-creatures all spend too much time doing that anyway. That and showering.
The question inevitably arises, of course: from which dimension is it that your hideously evil kind arises? And we always answer: that one. That one over there. No, no, the one just past it. Can't you see it? Lean out a bit further over the ledge.
We feel that actively discouraging definitive answers to this question benefits both ourselves - maintaining our perfidious secrecy - and those that feel we exist but would prefer not to provide any evidence of their claim. You don't agree? Well, it's in all the best books on the subject. Take that one by Icke, for example. That one there. No, no, the next one over. Can you get your fingers on it? Lean out a bit.
I hope that this response clarifies all the questions you may have had regarding the secret Lizardoid (or Lizardist, if you prefer) cabal that is secretly running your planet. Take no mind of the fact that our evil, shape-shifting race only produces human-looking children at conception, or of our warm handshakes, or of the fact that bullets tend to hurt us as much as the next man/reptilian being, or of the fact that we don't consume our food raw, except for sushi, which is just delicious and the only thing we plan to let survive of your wonderful, awe-inspiring, delicious planet.
Don't be swayed by the notion that it would take literally millions of people the world over to hold our secret safe, or the appearance that any of you monkeys could in fact rise to government yourselves. No, no, better by far to sit at home and wonder what twisted minds could be so sinister, so evil, so corrupt as to produce the Jerry Springer show and Girls Gone Wild, and then glue your eyes to the screen, preventing your ability to so much as mentally filter the tripe spewing out, or even lift a finger to change the channel.
Sssincerely (and sorry about all the cancer),
Geoff 'Gecko'
Assistant to the Senior Pool Maintenance Adjutant
Primus III colony