APOLOGY

Let me make it clear from the outset that I am firmly convinced that some sort of apology is in order. As are my colleagues and financial backers. Of course I could just say I'm sorry and be done with it, but I don't believe in taking the easy way out, and I feel this situation calls for a full explanation.

You see where I come from we speak the plain unvarnished truth. We call a stick a stick. Unless it's a particularly long stick, in which case we call it a pole. And of course if it's fairly thick and has fencing wire attached it, we'd probably call it a post. If it's a bloody enormous stick and it's stuck in the ground and covered with leaves we may very well call it a tree. If it's round at one end and sort of flattened out in a curvy fashion at the other end that would be what we call a cricket bat.  But you know what I mean. A stick is a stick. At the end of the day. When all's said and done. And isn't it just.

Now I've had a look at the transcripts from the evening in question. Where I probably said what it's alleged I might have said. Those words which were recorded on that man's totally unauthorized recording device.

So when I described my political opponent as a scum-sucking, pig-shagging, moral dyslexic who should be shot and spray-painted purple then hung upside down outside the City Railway Station to keep the kiddies amused during the school holidays, well, on reflection I can see now how that might be open to misinterpretation when listened to outside the friendly private atmosphere of the Smug Fascist Bastards Club where I was expressing a friendly and very private opinion.

Let's look at the facts. And we all know that this is a particularly poor method of arriving at the truth, but you bastards have forced me in to this. Look. I said what I said. I don't remember saying it, and it's entirely possible that I didn't even say it, but even if I did, that man had no right to report it. And besides, I didn't mean it like that.

The trouble with you lot is that you have no sense of humour and no appreciation for the friendly cut-and-thrust that is at the heart of politics. You need me and people like me to keep you on the straight and narrow, and tell you what to think. Without right-thinking people like me the world will soon be dominated by cross-dressing giant heroin-snorting weevils. And then who'll be sorry. I tried to called my worthy opponent to apologise and the limp-wristed little-dick loon wouldn't even take my call. Humourless bastard !

Sorry ? Sorry ?? Don't ask me to apologise. I am no mere mortal. I am Thor, God of Thunder and Radio Waves and Correct Thinking. Do not defy me ! If you attempt to defy me I will clench my jaw muscles in a threatening fashion and stare my scary stare. I feel sorry all right. Sorry for you ....

LET THE RECORD SHOW THAT AT THIS STAGE THE SPEAKER DROPPED HIS TROUSERS, FOLDED HIS GENITALS ORIGAMI-STYLE INTO AN ELEPHANT'S HEAD AND TRUNK AND SANG A CHORUS OF "OVER THE RAINBOW". A MEDICAL TEAM ARRIVED SHORTLY THEREAFTER AND THE PRESS CONFERENCE WAS OFFICIALLY CLOSED.