A certain manifestation of my persona has apparently been putting it about that there's more than one of me.
I normally prefer to remain silent about such matters, or at least most of me do. However, a guy in the pub has recently advised a significant proportion of me that multiple existence might lead to difficulties with the Inland Revenue. Since there is a slight chance of a couple of me earning income someday, I have decided (by a narrow majority) to Reveal the Truth.
According to the latest count, there are now six hundred and sixty-six Pinnipeds. I would therefore like to advise all stakeholders in this enterprise, including the non-phocoid minority thereof, that it is my intention to hold an Emergency General Meeting of me in the near future, at which I will endeavour to put my affairs in order once and for all. (All of me are requested to attend, please. Even at this level, I'm still an endangered species, you know).
Having now come clean on this issue, the source of my legendary productivity will be only too apparent. Suddenly the five-times-a-night claims become tragically credible. More to the point, I can no longer maintain the deception about where all this unreadable rubbish comes from. I hereby confess to Mr Paul Dacre that the mysterious stream of well-authenticated material that ostensibly tumbles through my letterbox is a complete fabrication. As corollaries to this admission, please note the following :
- The Daily Mail will not be publishing the unexpurgated diaries of Princess Diana after all
- I am not in a position to disclose the identities of the next three leaders of the Conservative Party
- Jacques Chirac is not Hitler's love-child, and the Dome is not currently occupied by aliens
- I do not know the whereabouts of Osama bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, Shergar, George Galloway, Elvis Presley or anyone on the Mail's list of Celebrities Who Have Inexplicably Disappeared from Daytime Television
- I am not in regular correspondence with George W Bush, Sir Paul McCartney, Pope John Paul II or Victoria Beckham's dresser
- There is no such organisation as the Revolutionary Council for the Liberation of Wales, and there is no price on the head of either Anne Robinson or Charlotte Church
- Sir Clive Sinclair has not re-appeared, and he is not holding the British Government to ransom with a fiendishly-developed store of a deadly nerve-agent
- The facts about the Florida recount are, I'm afraid, already in the public domain, and the information about the serial killer in the Big Brother house was just a lucky guess
I'm really sorry about all this, Mr Dacre. Some of me got out of hand, and I couldn't control myselves. I know you sent rather a lot of fish, and I guess you'd probably like it back now, only we've eaten it. I can return the packing cases, if you like, but please can we hang onto the one that the Weddell sleeps in? Thanks for your understanding.
Oh, I just remembered - please don't publish the stuff on h2g2 either. Even that might not be true, you see, although I'm pretty sure of the bit about 1.