I would like to invite a member of the audience up on stage for a moment.
Now, may I ask your name?
And that was a name given to you by your parents, was it?
Are you sure you weren’t kidnapped by gypsies… or aliens or someone from Essex… or anything like that, as a baby?
Anyway, if you would please examine this perfectly normal tin of sardines and confirm to the rest of the audience that it is perfectly normal in every way… except, of course, for the mere addition on a small nuclear-powered engine… and the wheels, of course.
After all, I’m sure many of us – when we were young – longed for that far off day in the future when we would all have our own self-propelled sardine tins in order to enjoy the thrill of sardines on toast no matter where we were in the world when those particular hunger pangs struck.
After all, who amongst you fine people gathered here on this day of all days cannot – hand on heart – deny, that when those particular hunger pangs begin there is no other way on this planet to assuage them, except by the prospect of some immanent sardines on toast.
For that is why the world has been crying out in its need for self-propelled sardine tins, of which this is just the first of many, not only that, soon the day will come when I will unveil my time-travelling inter-planetary electric toaster able to deliver hot fresh toast to any point in the space-time continuum (and Tewksbury), and on that great day we will all know for sure that the future has – indeed – arrived at long last.