Hello! Here in Smolensk butcher shop, we think it plenty coincidence Nick Clegg called to Leveson next week, as last night I have dream about it. Here what happen.
JAY: So, Mr Clegg, when you were making the tea, did you ever hear anyone talking about the BSkyB bid?
CLEGG: For the record, I don’t make tea.
CLEGG: No. David drinks coffee.
JAY: White or black?
CLEGG: Whatever he asks for?
JAY: Instant or filter?
CLEGG: Filter, usually.
JAY: Columbian? Java? Sarchimor? Mundo Novo? Sumatran Lintong? Ethiopian Harar?
LJ LEVESON: Perhaps we might return to the matter in hand, Mr Jay.
JAY: In the course of your, erm, shall I call it work, did you ever hear the BSkyB bid being discussed? By the Prime Minister for example.
CLEGG: Well, it might have come up, but the Prime Minister never spoke to me about it directly.
JAY: Why not?
CLEGG: What do you mean?
JAY: Well, did the Prime Minister discuss the BSkyB bid with anyone?
CLEGG: I don’t know. He might have done.
JAY: Surely he did. With Mr Hunt for example. Or Mr Osborne. Or one of his security detail. Or a random passer-by.
CLEGG: Maybe. But not with me.
JAY: Why, Mr Clegg? Are you out of the loop?
CLEGG: What do you mean?
JAY: Well, maybe the Prime Minister doesn’t think that you’re important enough to discuss matters as serious as BSkyB with.
CLEGG: That’s not true. David and I discuss everything together. Why last week, he consulted me on the exact wording of the commiseration letter to Engelbert. And only yesterday we were discussing what we both wanted for Father’s Day.
JAY: You see Mr Clegg, you claim you’ve had nothing to do throughout your career with grubby matters like courting the Murdoch press. And you also claim that you are a major player in this Government. You can’t have it both ways…
CLEGG: That’s not what David says…
JAY: Either you’re in the Prime Minister’s confidence, in which case it’s inconceivable he didn’t discuss Murdoch, BSkyB, Brooks, Coulson, hacking and all the rest of it with you, and you’re up to your neck in it…
CLEGG: Look, I, we, that is to say, I…
JAY: …or he didn’t and you’re in the clear…
CLEGG: Well, in that case…
JAY: …but only because you’re an irrelevance, Mr Clegg, a political diminutive, scarcely an afterthought, at best a parasite, a thing in itself of microscopic significance, but also, save insofar as you contribute to the general good humour of the nation as its principal laughing stock, a simply staggering waste of tax payer’s money.
CLEGG: Look, I…
JAY: Which is it, Mr Clegg?
[CLEGG collapses under the weight of his own contradictions.]
LJ LEVESON: I think I’d better order an immediate enquiry into why once again my courtroom has been invaded, and we’ve been forced to endure the contradictory whining of this invertebrate. For now, could someone dispose of him?
[CLERK OF THE COURT places CLEGG in container marked DUSTBIN OF HISTORY]