Some time ago I was hosting a State Dinner, when at the last minute my regular cook took ill and they had to get a replacement on short notice. The fellow arrived and turned out to be a very grubby looking man named John. I voiced my concerns to my Chief of Staff but was told that this was the best they could do at such short notice, according to the Head of the Household Staff.

Unbeknown to me, but later reported, the following events occurred. Just before the meal, the Chief of Staff noticed the cook sticking his fingers in the soup to taste it and again he complained to the Head of the Household Staff about the cook, but he was told that this man was supposed to be a very good chef.

The meal went okay but I was sure that the soup tasted a little off, and by the time dessert came, I was starting to have stomach cramps and nausea. It was getting worse and worse, until finally I had to excuse myself from the State Dinner to look for the bathroom. Passing through the kitchen, I caught sight of the cook, John, scratching his rear end and this made me feel even worse. By now I was desperately ill with violent cramps and was so disoriented that I couldn't remember which door led to the bathroom.

I was on the verge of passing out from the pain when I finally found a door that opened and as I undid my trousers and ran in, I realized to my horror that I had stumbled into Monica Lewinsky's office with my trousers around my knees.

As I was just about to pass out, Monica bent over me and heard her President whisper in a barely audible voice, "Sack my cook."

And that your Honor, is how the whole misunderstanding started.

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