April 4: The serial pest strikes again ...

The name’s Peter Hore, I’m just a pest, but much more persistent than the rest

I won’t give up, I’ll keep intruding, the bumbling coppers I’ll keep eluding

In my time I’ve invaded plenty, weddings and funerals, much more than twenty

Parliament in just two states, and at the Melbourne Cup I’ve got no mates

At the World Cup soccer I destroyed a net, but our team's loss I did not abet

My flat mate died in a way so suspicious, and the irony is so delicious

It was not me, but I’m a schizophrenic, though no-one I am is that energetic
I went to the funerals of Hutchence and Smith, all my life I've had this gift

I’ve been to the tennis, and to the cricket, if something's on, you know I’ll pick it

To the Sydney Olympics I took a digeridoo, and I’ve been arrested a time or two

In zero six I went to the Wheat Inquiry, where Terry Cole he got quite fiery

And I took on Kevin in one election, got two thousand votes, but still rejection

I’ve been a pest for quite a while, but I’m a lovely bloke with a winning smile

Took my three-wheeled bike to the rugby league, but I’m slowing down, I've got fatigue

So I’ve saved my best for the worst of days, I’ve timed it well, my final phase

At ICAC I made my presence felt, such a shocking hand this state’s been dealt