Speaking from inside her claw-resistant spittle chamber, May insisted it was unrealistic that she should be able to talk about things and know what she was talking about at the same time.
May said: "On any given day I might want to say that the previous government housed immigrants in a network of underground bunkers filled with champagne and chimps serving crack cocaine from bongs in the shape of Russell Grant.
"I don't have time to check whether any of that actually happened. But I do know there are immigrants in this country and clearly there is ground, therefore there must be an underground.
"So fuck you, Ken Clarke."
The home secretary will test her theory later this month by attempting to prove that the Human Rights Act can be used as a handbook on how to abuse children and knife pensioners simply by using some of the words in a completely different order and frequency.
If successful, this year's net immigration figures shoud then drop to zero on the basis that the Home Secretary will write the final report in her living room and use the number of swarthy-looking chaps hiding behind her television as a guide.
Backbench MP and May's round-the-clock handler, Denys Finch-Hatton, said: "At three o'clock this morning I had to lure her out of Old Trafford with a new pair of Jimmy Choo's because she was convinced she was Mario Balotelli.
"And on the way back to the hotel she spotted a cat and then made me eat it."
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