Memo to Channel 7 & Barnaby Joyce

Memo to:     Channel 7 and Barnaby Joyce
From:           Simone Bailey aka Bingells
Subject:        Interview scheduled for the Sunday program

Please attend at nearest pharmacy practicable, and once there obtain Immodium.  Consume the entire packet.  Why?  Because you're SHITTING us, aren't you?  Honestly, do you seriously think we the public are interested in a paid interview - to wit, $150,000.00 - with Barnaby and his partner Vicki regarding their baby (bless the poor kid).

Barnaby, you have to be shitting us.  Seriously shitting us.  Packing box of Laxettes followed up with a two-litre bottle of prune juice shitting us.  Mate, you pretty much threw the poor woman under the bus by implying the baby might not be yours.  Glad you're not my partner.  I guess your disposable income has nosedived like an Acapulco cliff diver now you're no longer Deputy Prime Minister, and ergo not enjoying the financial perks that accompany the position, hence the decision to partake in this interview.  To be honest, I don't care you're being paid because that's your business entirely.  You're entitled to take the money if Channel 7 are moronic enough to offer it.  I hope they grill you about your recalcitrance to approve the potentially life-saving Gardasil, a drug that - by your flawed reckoning - could lead to promiscuity among girls.  I said it before and I'll say it again: first of all, nobody - ahem! - gives a fuck as it's nobody's business, and secondly I'm pretty sure the medication does not have some potent alchemic qualities to cause a normal woman to transmorph into a raving nymphomaniac.  That you don't want young women to have more than one partner, and then turned around and implied the mother of the Bubba Beetroot was not monogamous, tells me you're not only coloured magenta.  You're also coloured a less-than-fetching shade of Hypocrite (it's near Jerk on the colour chart).

Channel 7, you too are shitting us.  Why do you think we care?  Are you hoping we will happen to be channel surfing and come upon this cheap ratings grab, whereupon we will be helplessly drawn in by the tractor beam of its sheer unadulterated tawdriness and car crash factor?  This happened to me with A Current Affair some years ago.  I looked, and was held in horrified thrall as though I had gazed upon the countenance of a fierce gorgon.  The ex-Mrs Edelsten, Leanne (forget her current surname) was talking about her affair with Clive James.  When the interview was over, and my delirium wore off, I felt as though I had soiled myself.  Will I watch this interview with Barnaby?  I'm not that inclined to. But I just might. If I do, you will all hear my thoughts.

'Tis all for now.  Shall write again soon.