I have finally reached the pineapple of nirvana and seen the light. I might however see a few more lights, now and then. But for the moment, I am delighted to announce that I will not be blackmailed and I will not give anyone an NRO. I made this announcement for the nth time, witnessed by my closest cabinet colleagues, whose names escape me. Also witnessed on a daily basis on the 9 O’clock news by the nation, whose names escape me.

The Boyz look askance at me when I make such announcement because they’d very much like to have a fallback position other than me. And for that specific reason, I will not allow it. I’ve assured them that we sink or swim together. Unlike my dalliances and marriages, my connection with The Boyz is an everlasting bond, not bondage.

But they’re still not happy with my assurances. Why don’t they believe me? I am about to turn the economy around. I have some creative ideas on how to tackle the budget deficit. I will get hefty sponsorships for everything, especially great state institutions. Hence forward, it will be Sunsilk GHQ, Bahria National Assembly, Rose Petal Pakistan Navy, Coca Cola NAB, Masterfoam Supreme Court, Pepsi ECP and so on. There will be a huge influx of money from these sponsorships and the deficit will go up in a puff of smoke, unlike me who’s stopped puffing and smoking and am in the Pink of health as a result.

I heard that the international press is in a bit of a flutter about that latest assassination attempt on a journalist in Islamabad. So when the editor of The Times, Patricia Pitbull-Terrier called to interview me I didn’t take her call. Then she got her secretary Eliza Dolittle to ring, no response from me. Then she got her hairdresser Vidal Sassoon to call, no response. Then she got her photographer the late Cecil Beaton to call, still no response. Finally, she got my old friend Mick Jagger to call me and try and make conversation by asking what I thought of Kamala Harris’s new Abortion Bill, “Oh for God’s sake, Mick, just pay it!”

Im the Dim