PEOPLE often remark on my superb grasp of facts and skill in pursuing an argument. Which is why I must refute your claim that I was clearly humping someone else in our bed.
Much as I demolished Harriet Harman’s Partygate allegations yesterday, so too must I forcefully question your view that my flabby arse repeatedly bouncing up and down on a naked 22-year-old Tory party researcher was in some way ‘sexual’.
First, let us define ‘shagging’. That most learned of websites The Urban Dictionary describes it as putting an erect penis in a woman’s vagina. But from your location standing at the bedroom door calling me a ‘f**king scumbag wanker’, can you be sure that took place?
Was I erect? No, due to the large amount of wine I’d drunk earlier. Semi-erect at best, so whatever took place was not ‘shagging’ by the definition we have agreed upon.
Moreover, sexual intercourse is associated with feelings of pleasure. The researcher in question later remarked it was ‘like f**king a walrus with poor oral hygiene’. Does that sound pleasurable? No. Ergo, we did not shag.
As I established yesterday, aggressively splitting hairs, pointless waffle and questioning incontrovertible facts are how one proves one’s innocence. Can you even be sure it was me porking away wheezily and not an imposter – or a hallucination caused by a malfunction of your own brain? You are blonde, after all.
Aristotle once said ‘Plato is dear to me, but dearer still is truth’. I don’t know what half this Greek bollocks means because I just memorised it at school, but the point is: I’m cleverer than those Greek bumboys, so what I say must be true.
With same respectful tone I showed yesterday, I want a beef sandwich, a decent Merlot and a blowjob, so get cracking with those, hot tits. What do you mean, you’ve already spoken to a divorce lawyer? Shit, not again. I’d only just finished paying for the last one.
