It is with pride that I announce my self-nomination for this very great honour. Let's face it: I am a poet of vast talents, an astonishing grasp of the English language, cutting edge political views, and I also look very nice in a dress.
Not only that, but I have twice been the Penultimate Place Getter in state-wide poetry performance competitions. Yes, I am officially the second-best! (Unofficially, of course, I am the best, but hey, that just means my greatness isn't recognised by everyone. Yet.)
Face it, Mark. The prize is mine.
Now having got that little matter out of the way, let's get on to some other things:
First prize (which I shall be earning) will be One million dollars, a copy of Edmund Spensers The Fairy Queen signed by the author, the Prime Ministership of Australia, and a round-trip of Europe.
Second prize (which shall be going to some other poor loser who is not me) will be Boris Karloffs signature, on biodegradable toilet paper.
Third prize (which shall also be going to an entity other than my glorious self, and who is therefore unimportant) shall be a night out with Ken Parish, proprietor of Troppo Armadillo. Enjoy your date, losers!
Fourth prize (which shall definitely be going to some pathetic worm whose non-meness is absolutely and utterly evident in their lack of wonderfulness) shall be a kick up the bum.
I also have my
Well, it's about bloody time! I'd like to give a big thanks to me, myself, I, my parents for having the good sense to have me, and ... um, did I forget to mention me, me, me, me, and me? Oh, I did? Well, I'll have to rectify that...
(6 hours later)
... and lastly, but not leastly, my-abso-bloody-lutely-wonderful-and-beautiful-and-glorious-self. I couldn't have done it without you, buddy.
Thankyou, and goodnight.