G'day. This week I appeared before a committee of strangers who wanted to ask me a lot of questions about...I really can't remember right now but I expect it must have been important. I brought a team of characters to sit behind me to scowl at my inquisitors and look at their expensive watches a lot when I was getting into trouble, or it was time for lunch. I ordered the foam pie, which was surprisingly good, if not delivered in quite the way that befits a respected, top-notch catering company. The man directly behind me was the goblin banker from the Harry Potter films who was there in an advisory role. He advised me that I couldn't remember anything or anyone connected to the matter at hand, whatever that was. I explained that the Nick Abbot on Sunday was a show that was put out on a day that represents a tiny one seventh of my total week days and that I really can't be expected to recall the details of what I did or said or heard pertaining to that particular day, coming as it does between Saturday and Monday, which are also a bit of a blank. I said this while appearing to have no eyes (I am fairly sure that I do), rapping the desk with my claws and barking, befuddled monosyllables that I am assured came across as humility before the court, which I respect most greatly, staffed as they were with the most dreadful sort of badly dressed, jumped up poseurs and half wits. My tie cost more than most of them spent on their last car. That alone used to be enough to be treated with deference in this country which has certainly gone to the dogs since I was here last, for which I take some of the credit. You're welcome.
My trusted sidekick Mini-Me did most of the talking. Boy can he talk. He was talking about my show and even I had no idea what he was on about. Great job sunshine. Ask him anything...go on...anything at all. Ask him what time it is and he'll tell you that in so far as he is aware, pertaining to all previous and future clock based indicators, and notwithstanding the degree to which, at any period we, or indeed you are able to rationalise the concurrence of fact based quanta, and the piece at which the proposed survey is undertaken, there is no way of knowing that it is in fact, de facto, in essence an unknown and if you will allow Mr Chairman, would propose to be in a position to elaborate on the issue in furtherance of the aforementioned, at your discretion and convenience in writing ...if it pleases the court, most humbly.
See? He can rattle this stuff off like he's a robot. Its genius. It's like aural Temazepam; put most of the viewing audience to sleep in ten seconds. The only reason that some people stayed awake through it was that they were trying to figure out who was the glamour-puss sitting behind me. She is my personal bodyguard and is trained in the deadly art of open handed attack and is also, so I am told, my wife, although I have no recollection of that. In fact I can't remember anything, other than to remember to say how sorry I am that all of this has come out, whatever it is.
With a memory like that, it's amazing that they let me run my own show really.