Humour is dangerous stuff. I ought to know, it has sliced me a time or two.

Some folks claim I might have made something of myself if I could just resist the temptation of a perfect satirical line. In my own defence, the business of politics is irresistibly funny.

At its best, humour shines an irreverent light on the absurd business of being human. Those who are self-righteous, sanctimonious, self-important, morally superior or born to greatness are its natural targets. You don’t have to be a genius to figure out that politics is a target-rich zone.

All of which makes political life a danger zone for people with a sardonic streak. I vividly recall several moments when the compelling need to wisecrack strained my weak grasp on anything remotely resembling a career.

Take, for instance,

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