Auditor General Michael Ferguson crawled out of Mike Duffy's shoebox full of Keg receipts this week and said he was shocked to discover that "a number of senators simply felt they didn't have to account for their spending."

What a shocker! Nobody tell Ferguson where babies come from or the truth about Santa Claus. I fear his heart won't be able to take it.

By now, you've heard about the senators who charged flights for friends to attend a 50th wedding anniversary party, a fishing trip, a book launch and expenses for the houses they didn't actually live in. The audit blames these things on "a lack of independent oversight."

To a senator, "independent oversight" means "look over your shoulder to make sure nobody sees you write 'public outreach' on that strip club receipt."

The spending review makes for great reading. But it's nothing compared to the statements the senators themselves have written in defence of their actions.

Dear angry mob,

I have reviewed the audit assessment and do not agree the conclusions are factually based. The auditor general has concluded that I live in Ottawa and not the province of "Lower Canada – Rupert's Land," which I represent, and which the auditor general claims is "not a real place." Anyone who knows me is aware that I have been in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina since 1988 so how can I reside in Ottawa? It makes no sense.

I was asked to defend my expenses by writing this letter. Therefore, I am sending you the bill for the computer I am writing this on, this month's power bill, a desk and chair, printer and stationery, and my cable and Internet bills.

The fault lies not with me but with your process. There were no clear rules so I was forced to define my own. I asked myself, "Is what you're doing wrong?" I answered, "No." If I was not clear on what I expected of myself, am I really to blame? The fault, you see, lies not with me but with myself.

I was asked to defend my expenses by writing this letter. Therefore, I am sending you the bill for the computer I am writing this on, this month's power bill, a desk and chair, printer and stationery, and my cable and internet bills. I am also expensing the cost of hiring my wife's stepson Gerry to research me so I could best defend myself. Also, these expenses appear twice as I felt it important to also respond in French.

With greatest contempt,

Senator Critch

Mr. Ferguson is calling for a transformative change. This is not possible. The senators fear change — not only because they prefer to charge everything. They see the Senate as a "time-honoured Canadian tradition." But there isn't much Canadian in any of this.

In the many words spoken and written about this whole mess, the most Canadian word of all is missing — sorry. You won't hear an apology from any of this crowd. They see the Senate as the cost of doing business — a reward for past partisan services rendered.

Well, perhaps it's time we billed them for our services.

Dear Senate,

I am billing you for the time lost listening to, watching and reading stories about the Senate expense scandal. You will also see a bill for the stomach medication I take to keep the gall from bubbling over in my gullet upon hearing the term "Duffy."

With disgust,

A Taxpayer

The political price will be known this fall, but will we ever see any of this money back? Who knows? Sadly, it's doubtful any of these people will ever truly be punished but the one letter I'd love to see would look like this:

Dear Warden,

Recently, I was traded by my cellmate Lefty to a gentleman named Rizzo on Block D for three cartons of Export A's. Personally, I prefer Du Maurier but my wife was once on the board for a symphony sponsored by Du Maurier, so I felt being traded for Du Mauriers would be a conflict of interest. There is some confusion over my diet. The food here is starchy and dull so I applied for the vegan diet. I am writing to petition to have filet mignon added to the vegan diet for dietary reasons. The food here makes me long for the business class menu aboard an Air Canada domestic flight. As we both know, one cannot live on Camembert alone.

In greatest fear,

Rizzo's Bitch

Mark Critch is a comedian and a cast member of This Hour Has 22 Minutes, which airs Tuesdays at 8:30 p.m. (9 p.m. in Newfoundland and Labrador) on CBC Television. Follow him on Twitter @MarkCritch.