I'm beginning to dread getting my Bilderberg invitation

Surely the Illuminati have more fun than this? Photo: Kat N.L.M./

The Sound of Musings in the Austrian alps

Perhaps I'm getting jaded, but my heart sinks every time the discrete envelope arrives with my annual invitation to the Bilderberg meeting. The only real interest is in making sure I've been left off the official participants list.

Not that there's much cachet on being on the list, each year it gets slightly, but noticeably less high powered. It's only thanks to the conspiracy theorists and their hyperventilating that gives us any credibility these days, that's how low we've sunk.

I've spent the best part of sixty years as one of the secret rulers of the world so when one of their little staffers tries to talk to me about openness and transparency, it's just noise and the sound of lips moving coming from a face that is begging, just begging to be a corporate minion.

My ancestors would have thrown these people to the wolves, and that's not a metaphor.

There's fewer heavy hitters these days as our influence has declined, thanks in no small part to the more transient members, the politicians and their policy nerds who have no idea of looking as far ahead as we old hands do, but they sit their with their iPads, passing everything on to the NSA and whoever else is listening.

There's the usual bankers, financiers, spooks and industrialists, almost as if someone's organising the dullest dinner party in history. The hotel is far too modern for my taste, perhaps I should check it out in their “Get To Know Us “ breaks they advertise, I see they throw in a complimentary facial massage and a 'coffee and cake of your choice'.

How utterly fantastic. They've also got a webcam. That'd better be turned off unless they want to see what a certain group of bankers like to do off the balcony every night.

Gone are the days when I could retire to the bar with a handful of close chums and party like we used to. Kissinger, the Duke of Edinburgh and DSK, the fun we had. Nowadays they're too old or, well, would you knock on the hotel door and offer old Dominique a free facial massage?

Now the younger element are getting all visionary and we're going to be talking about artificial intelligence, why not I say, there's not a lot of real intelligence around. At least Reding's not here. Finally blackballed after suggesting we all arrive in Uber taxis.

At least O'Leary doesn't offer Ryaniar flights to us, probably because he'd be shot on the spot and rightly too.

Barroso's here, I note then see the oil executives also listed. Well, it's not the worst place to go job hunting, I suppose. And De Gucht, he's there to keep the Belgian PM company and away from the serious business. I'll book him a 6am mustache wax on the first morning, just to brighten his day.

My suggestion of inviting David Icke went down as well as an Oettinger press conference, but why not? It'd be fun and we don't have much of that.

I expect I'll be with some of the old guard in a mountain hideaway most night, where we can reminisce about the good old days, moan about the dreariness of the present and the same discussions happening year after year, while the Chinese prepare for their turn at the top rung.

I bet their secret rulers are having a lot more fun and won't be spending their little bonding sessions like we do, avoiding getting photographed in our undies and trying to avoid a thousand go-pro drones that'll be swarming our way, hooked up to You Tube.

I'd hightail it out to the East in a heartbeat if it wasn't for the one thing this pretentious hotel has that Beijing doesn't; fresh air.

Decline, I can handle, we've seen enough of it over the last 1,200 years we've been in business, it's the bland dreariness of it. Ruling the world has become a tiresome chore.