At the conclusion of the by-elections, I was asked to make a victory speech and I thought I’d begin by reading a poem by Ghalib. And then I thought, why should I? After all, he’s never read any of my poems.

These Noon Leaguers, they’re the limit. They’ve accused me of putting up a candidate who’s spent his way through the by-election. They’ve even accused me of getting funds from abroad. Excuse me! I’m a ghairatmand Pathan – I would never take a penny from a broad. And if they still don’t believe me, they can name the broad I took money from.

I said so at my last jalsa in Lahore, but no one heard me because there was a commotion. A woman went into labour just as I was building up to the Mother of all Punch Lines. As always, I took command of the situation. Snatching the mic, I shouted for a doctor saying a woman was in labour. A voice called back, “I’m a doctor. Please calm down. Is this her first child?” I replied, “No, you idiot, this is your leader.”

Anyway, it turned out to be a false alarm. I rushed to the woman’s side and she said, “take me into your arms and whisper something soft and sweet”. I whispered, “chocolate fudge pudding”. She then began scowling. I wonder why.

Anyway, the doctor finally got through the crowd and told me to send the woman home and get her to drink a glass of hot milk after a hot bath. I just looked at the guy in amazement. Who’s going to get the woman to drink a hot bath, followed by a glass of hot milk?

I got home exhausted but managed to have a chat with the boys. They were supposed to visit the Natural History Museum to see dinosaurs. “How was it?” I asked them. “We didn’t go” they said, “if we want to see dinosaurs, we’ll go to the Pakistan National Assembly when it’s in session”. Then your bhabi appeared and glowered at me for talking to the kids. Atilla the Hen.