Dear Mr Zuma,
Thank you for me invite to the Nelson Mandela memorial service. It is a great honour that you thought of me, although it’s no surprise that you did.
However, on this occasion I feel duty-bound to turn down yer kind and humble request. I can’t really take 100% of the credit for dismantling apartheid, although it would be fair to say I’m almost there with the ol’ poverty and what-not.
Me presence at such an event might be seen as a little self-aggrandising and I wouldn’t want anyone to think that I was a hypocrite for releasing anti-apartheid songs and then cashing in on them by not paying any tax on the royalties.
Although it would be fair to say that I am a great man, you might say a ‘colossus’ in the charity world, I wouldn’t want to risk upstaging Mandela’s moment in the sun in front of his people. It might be unseemly if the mourners were to rush from his service to flock to my feet, and plead with me to sing acapella as I weep.
People might think I was the new Messiah, and that’s an impression I’m keen to play down.
That being said, I’m a little surprised that my invite hasn’t arrived yet, I expect it’s got lost in the post. Not to worry, you’ll definitely recognise me even if I wasn’t landing on the roof of the chapel in me gold-plated helicopter. Don’t you worry, of course I’ll be there! I wouldn’t miss it for the world, I was just pullin’ yer leg!
Just one thing, who do I send me expenses to?