It wasn’t enough for me this month to merely name some hopeless schmuk as a Wet Pussy, just because he had sided with the butchers in Beijing. Oh no, I wanted more. I wanted a bigger fish to fry, and by the Lords of Kobol I got it.

Now, to be perfectly Francis with you, I’ve always kind of liked the Kiwi’s. They play good rugby, drink good beer and plenty of it, can usually manage a laugh at themselves, and have a healthy disrespect of authority. I like that. I’ve also been to New Zealand, and it’s a very nice place indeed. Good huntin’ and fishin’ for those of us who’re into that sort of thing, amazing rivers and lakes and ocean and forest and snow, and all that good Nature stuff. And Hobbits, everybody likes Hobbits.

The thing is, I never thought I’d live to see the day when I’d side with the French over the New Zealanders. The French do have somewhat of a, er, shall we say reputation for, er, shall we say not always making the bravest or most moral decisions. I’m not saying that I hold that opinion myself, you understand, but it’s a reputation that precedes any French citizen, fairly or otherwise. And it’s a reputation that is diametrically different from that which the Kiwi’s possess. So you can imagine my shock and horror when the French honoured His Holiness the Dalai Lama with the keys to the city (Paris), and the Kiwi’s honoured Hu Jintao (a.k.a. the Butcher of Lhasa) with a Free Trade Agreement.

What the fuck were those idiots thinking? Why not simply give Poland to Hitler’s descendants? Same deal.

So, to my everlasting sadness, I was ready to award April’s Wet Pussy Award to New Zealand, when out of the blue, Australian politician and all-round fucktard Kim Beasley gives an interview on Chinese TV and, when asked about Australia’s position vis-a-vis Tibet, says: “Well, let’s get back to first principles. Everyone in the world knows that Tibet and Taiwan are now and have always been part of China.”

Mister Beasley, are you out of your tiny retarded fucking mind? Who the hell are you to speak for everybody in the world? You can’t even speak for the people of your own country, ever since your own party kicked you out of the hot seat. When I hear knuckleheads like you speaking, it reminds me of the joke about the Eighth Wonder of the World being an Australian in a bar… with his mouth shut.

Mister Beasley, how dare you sell out the tens of millions of poor sods in Taiwan and Tibet, who look to your country with hope? How dare you hand the murdering bastards in Beijing such a propaganda coup? Sure, it was a question that was hard to answer, so why answer it at all? You’re a politician! You’ve spent years not answering questions, distorting facts, telling lies – surely you could have kept yer trap shut just this once? What the Hell were you thinking? Mister Beasley, pray you never run into me in a bar, unless you want to be picking up your teeth with broken fingers, then walking to the dentist’s on broken legs.

Mister Beasley, it is my greatest pleasure to be able to sling this Wet Pussy Award at you. I hope you go and choke on it.

Kim Beasley, Wet Pussy Award winner and right bastard.