There were chaotic scenes earlier today as the chief BP media officer, Mr Bernard Hofsnider, apparently suffered some kind of breakdown while delivering the daily briefing to representatives of the world press.
A reporter from the Daily Gripe, of Pigsknuckle, Arkansas, asked what the latest plans were to cap the leak, currently estimated at some 12,000 barrels a day. Mr Hofsnider responded:
"We are currently attempting to pump some 30,000 barrels of heavy materials through the blow-out preventer into the well-head..."
At this point Mr Hofsnider paused, crumpled up his notes and swept them off his lectern.
"You know what, guys? We're shit out of plans. We're fucked. You want an honest answer? We have no fucking idea what to do next. It's 5,000 feet down, it's flowing out faster than shit through a goose, we can see damn-all and everybody - but everybody - in the whole goddamn world is bitching and moaning at us, from the President of the United States to the secretary of the Accrington Stanley Supporters Club."
Mr Hofsnider scratched his head.
"Does anyone here know who the fuck Accrington Stanley is? Or what he's in prison for? Anyway, moving on. We do in fact have three planning teams working twenny-four seven on possible solutions."
"Team A is calling the BBC in London, England, asking for Dr Who's cellphone number. We're hoping we can lease the Tardis to take our contract managers back in time to before they signed up with those shit-for-brains sub-contractors. Team B is lighting incense and preparing to sacrifice a few of those contract managers to Kali, the Hindu devil Goddess, to pray for intercession. Team C is beaming messages into space hoping that Thunderbird 5 will pick 'em up and get International Rescue here. I hope you'd agree that's a pretty comprehensive package of total desperation, ladies and gentlemen of the press. Any of you got any good ideas?"
There was a short silence before a correspondent for the Telford Advertiser enquired whether Mr Hofsnider was aware that BP's share price was dropping rapidly.
"No shit?" said Mr Hofsnider. "Well, don't that beat all. We kinda thought investors would approve of us rendering the entire Gulf of Mexico unfit for life and fucking up the Gulf Stream. Guess you can't please all of the people all of the time. And hey, you Brits had better get used to weather like Labrador. You might wanna suggest to your councillors they buy more salt in for next year. Any other stupid fucking questions? No, cancel that, cuz you know what? I quit. I'm heading down to Marty's Bar to drink myself comatose on cheap whiskey."
Mr Hofsnider was said by BP to be "resting", and that a further press release would be forthcoming as soon as they'd heard back from Dr Who.
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