The Prime Minister’s Apology | #NaNoWriMo

The Prime Minister’s Apology | #NaNoWriMo

Prime Minister: I’m sorry. Thank you.


Reporter2: Wait, Mr Prime Minister-

PM: Please, call me Steve.

Reporter1: Steve?

PM: Steve. Stephen. Just not Stevie.

R1: Why not Stevie?

PM: No more question from you.

R1: Stephen, please! One quick question.

PM: Go ahead.

R1: Daily Mail, thank you. I want –

PM: Oh god no, next!

R1: I had a question.

PM: And I don’t respect your paper. Next.

R2: Why so short?

PM: I’m sorry, who said that?

R2: Independent.

PM: No, what’s your name?

R2: Ashley.

PM: What’s your question Ashley?

R1: I have a question!

PM: Can someone remove the Daily Mail reporter please?

R1: We are –

PM: Smut. Sorry, Ashley wasn’t it? Please continue with your question.

R2: That was it really.

PM: What was it? Sorry, still new to the job.

R2: Why was your apology so short?

PM: Sincere apologies are short. I find long apologies are nothing more than excuses. And so publications like the Mail can’t manipulate my words.

Reporter3: Are you sorry?

PM: Of course I am. What’s was your name?

R3: Telegraph.

PM: I asked your name.

R3: Aaron.

PM: Yes, Aaron. I am sorry.

R3: Care to elaborate?

PM: You don’t want an apology. You want whys and lies. I am sorry for my actions on 31st December. Better?

R1: What happened?

PM: Have you not left yet?

R1: What happened that night?

PM: What do you think happened?

R1: You were drunk on tax payer’s money.

PM: And?

R1: And?

PM: Yes, and what happened next?

R1: You urinated on a post box.

R2: A gold Olympic post box.

PM: I thought we were friends Ashley.

R2: Is that what happened?

PM: Yes.

R3: Anything you’d like to add?

PM: When you elected me, you elected a human. You elected a 50 something year old white man because that’s what you like. That’s who best represents this country. Yes, I am a 49-year-old white man. My education wasn’t Eton but it was good. My upbringing wasn’t poor but it wasn’t wealthy. When you elected me, you elected a human being. A slightly overweight greying man that’s not perfect. I will make mistakes but I will own up to those mistakes and apologise for those mistakes. On the evening of 31st December or rather the morning of 1st January I was not the Prime Minister. I was human. I was a drunk man at a friend’s party finding a taxi ride home. And before you ask Daily Mail, the tax payer did not pay for my taxi home. It paid for the police car that took me to the station. It paid for the hard working men and women of the police force that protect us and our property and our country. That stop humans like me being an idiot and urinating on something that is a symbol of national pride. If you want a robot, you can bring back Cameron when I’m done. If you want a fellow human being, I’m right here. And if you’ll let me, I’ll be here a little bit longer. I won’t be sober all that time and I will make mistakes. I certainly will not piss on any thing again. At least, I promise to try but I do turn 50 next month. That okay, Mail?

R2: One more.

PM: No, I asked is that okay?

R2: Yes but –

PM: Thank you for your time. Again, I am sorry.

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