‘Jam-Land’ uber allies.
Dear reader if you thought the last episode was cut short it’s because we had to, (as this is an Election issue) pay an undiscosed sum to Jam-Land. What ls ‘Jam-Land’ you may ask? One of Angus’s off-shore enterprises. Angus has a handle on what goes in and what goes out. And like Vladimir and his mates he makes sure he gets a cut. That’s democracy ‘Australian Style’.
And we at pcbycp think its a guarantee of the right message getting through. Ours is not as strident message of ‘Freedom Freedom Freedom’. Our message is simple and fatalistic; ‘Apathy is comforting and why bother?”
Supreme Commander of the Southern Hemisphere, and remote islands inhabited by fuzzy wuzzies.
We believe it strikes just the right chord. Speaking of chords our heroes are down to their last note, and they’d better play it well. With the hideous monster/man creature and the impending doom all around it’s their last throw. The cards may be all marked. The roulette wheel may be rigged and the one arm bandit is having a hard time getting on the NDIS. But like fools bound for a victims future it’s the only choice they have be it Hobson’s or Buckley’s. But despair is just another four letter word as is hope, life, fear and dead. So why worry, and read on…
We return to our saga, beneath the irradiated desert sands of Maralinga in a space excised from the map, as is Angus’s offshore intersts, a place they called ‘Radium Spings’…And all because we were trying to find, (if you can remember back that far) who it was who cruelly defiled our tea-lady Mrs Culthorpe when she was on secondment to the Nation’s parliament.
Yanks in the Solomon Islands worried about global warming way back in 1942. Before the bounty of ‘Clean-Coal’.
We knew that if we did so much as breathe heavily the claw enhanced humanoid would detect our movement. From our niche we could see that this creature was clothed in a metallic black. It wore jack-boots sort of like a storm trooper of or the military garb as worn by the Victoria Police public response or pedestrian crossing emergency response utility officer. They not only wore guns, tasers, truncheons and rpg’s, but tear gas projectors, dum dum projectors and smoke grenades. Some of them, even wore ‘have a nice day stickers’ on their rifles just to reassure the public they were there to protect them.
AWM Finest hour at Singapore re- enactment for ANZAC Day 2022. Brendan Nelson the short bloke dressed in Japanese officers uniform.
The crab-handed humanoid jumped once more into the air. It was amazing to witness such athleticism, and then with an earth shattering crunch see it land heavily just metres in front of us. We could see the crab claw, twice the size of a human hand twitching, and from within a visor of sorts which we could see was a cybernetics enhanced night vision helmet display apparatus. We could hear the soft cackle of radio signals, communications relays, and laser guided toast warmers. Whatever this crab, humanoid apparition was it was decked out in the latest up to date gear. But was it friend or foe? Benny was twitching the butt of his Kalashnikov. He always carried a spare, not the red taped one he used in Afghanistan, this one just an ordinary gaffer taped one with ‘have a nice day’ stencilled on the magazine. He also fondled the handle of the 1942 potato masher grenade he’d purchased at Kandahar after exchanging a barrow load of prosthetic limbs he’d picked up ‘in the field ‘ in Tarren Kwot. Whatever was about to happen Benny was ready for action. And he was doing it alone. We just trembled, being civvies, we had no confidence in being able to stand up to this humanoid crustacea thing.
The humanoid kept turning this way or that, craning its reptilian neck in either direction desperately seeking what it could only have been disturbed by “US’. It made a another ear-piercing howl, and stamped its feet again. Impatiently it rocked back and forth. it was menacing. it was hideous. And worse still from the visor of its ultra hi-tech helmet we could hear it humming a tune. A ghostly ghastly tune, yet strangely familiar. ‘What is it’? whispered Ces. ‘I dunno’! whispered Quent. ‘I’ve heard it before’, whispered Terry. And sure enough it made itself familiar, as from with the helmet we could hear a mumbling chorus, ‘Two little boys”
Wise men in charge of strategic policy Singapore 1942.
Christ he’s singin ‘Two little boys’, what does that carbon date this thing at Terry’?
‘Reckon it’d be 65! That was the last time we led a team of investigative scientists down here, and they were never seen again, Could it have something to do with this’?
Wiser men in charge of Strategic Policy 2022, Dutto; ” Jeez SCOMO the water’s rising in both the Sth Pacific and those bits of the electorate who vote Labor. Proves the existence of a Coalition GOD’! (studio laughter ensues)
‘I reckon so’,… the thought of what may have happened filled us with terror, and as we crouched, cowered and cringed. The creature did a very strange thing, it began to move silently into the street, crouched down, and deliberately and with much dexterity crab- like it began to unscrew the helmet. We could hear the screwing, it was worse than anything from ‘Cats’, and as inch by inch, the helmet unwound we wondered what would emerge from inside? A human head or something much more sinister? But we knew one thing, friend or foe we were in for a big shock! Benny twitched the handle of the potato masher grenade, and Terry passed us all another Camel to smoke if every we got out of here. Ces put his behind his ear. Quent shoved his up his nose as he’d seen GI’s do it in war movies and Terry just lined it up on his lip.
Japanese prepare the official Gaudalcanal re- enactment for the AWM. Officer saying; ‘this is not the far-canal, this is the Guada-canal’.
With a dull ‘psssssht’, the helmet came off, and from within we could only see one thing, a bright gleaming dome. The light, sepulchral and diffused shone and the glimmered, like a carbuncle or exoskeleton, with a febrile intensity. Curiously we felt drawn to it, as a punter is drawn to Crown Casino and yet, the horror presented itself. It was worse than another life-form it was more terrifying than half-human. It was more foreboding than the island of Doctor Moreau. It was, as it emerged in its gleaming skin tones, of white, puce and pale-yellow the dome of Australia’s most powerful law officer. The paralysing, penetrating, putative punishing progenitor of plausible paradoxes poised perilously perpendicular to procedural principle’s of public protection. The dome of ‘Dutto’. We could hear the whistling, ‘Two little boys’, and with a slow deliberate gait it turned to us, stood upright the head emerged and it said; “ Well well well, fancy seeing youse again’.
Brewster Buffalo’s re-engineered and up-graded by Lockheed Martin and British Aerospace for defence of Northern Australia and in public/privete sponsorship to the AWM 2022.
Will this be Mr Potato-heads final flourish? Will Mrs Potato-head put him back in the box? Where’s Sophie? Do we have a choice? Find out in the next epoch defining episode, ‘Dutto or Dust”, or, “A Queensland Copper is Pure GOLD’!