Big Brother, Live from Iraq. Day 2.
In the Big Brother Bunker today…
Crazy Mean Dave & myself had come to terms with our situation & settled in for a long, drawn out & bloody conflict with Georing, who had turned up personally to watch the show, & (X)S-Club 7. Now with a live video feed to Kylon's news desk via a webcam that my compadre found in a cupboard whilst we were looking for Kuwaiti gold. We waited for the reckoning to come.
Kylon could do nothing but sit & watch this, a most terrible war unfold live. Geoffrey Robinson was not answering our cries for help, the ungrateful crack fiend; all attempts to contact the CIA had failed & even our lord & saver had seemed to have gone on a sabbatical, but as always he moves in very complex, often strange & incredibly mysterious ways. As Crazy Mean Dave said just before all the layers of hell descended upon the quiet town of Mandila “It's just you & me, Bloor! We are so fuckin' screwed!”
Crazy Mean Dave & I had decided to start upon the Pharmaceutical supplies, in a vain attempt to drown out the boredom & appending doom from our warped & fragile minds. Unfortunately we'd only got 10 pellets of Mescaline, 1 vial of liquid Acid which we'd procured from a General in the American army (he said they were using it on the Iraqi's as some kind of mind control agent, but we had just left the hotel & I wasn't in the mood at the time to talk about such things), a large quantity of battery acid strength Amphetamine Sulphate & a big bag of Skunk.
The Problem with Hallucinogens is that they sever all connections the mind has to reality. & For a while it was just what I had ordered. But they are not a drug for war. Amphetamines are however very good for intense situations, so we'd ingested a large quantity of both.
2 hours into the Acid, Mescaline & Amphetamine trip (which is a combination which only a seasoned pro should ever attempt) Elgar's Nimrod playing through the TV from one of the assault rifles (for some strange reason had a mp3 player build in), Crazy Mean Dave climbing the walls, ranting on about charging the enemy head on & we could take them if only we had a paddling pool & some scotch. I sighed & started to roll a large spliff, to calm my friend down from whatever universe his head was stuck in.
Then it happened.
Slightly muffled but audible, the Sound's of hell itself started to emanate from the Air filtration system & I thought to myself, so it has begun.
The tactical concert strike, banded by the Geneva Convention for being the worst torture ever devised by man, was in full swing & by the sound of it they were really going to town on this one.
But as I said before God moves in mysterious ways & as suddenly as it begun, it stopped & we were plunged into darkness.
Amazed, we looked at each other as the backup generator kicked in & we were bathed in a low & dirty light, both of us wondering what was going on outside our haven. The silence lasted for what seemed like hours. But with no time perception, who could say how long we waited, in that bunker for the end to come.
Suddenly the doors burst open & Georing myrmidons rush in, time seemed to slow & a calm, like those moments before a great storm, enveloped the room.
In slow motion Crazy Mean Dave jumped from his chair, screamed, “I am the fuckin' Duracell Bunny! Feel my wraith Brittany Spears!” & rushed towards the amassing congregation in the doorway, fuelled by drugs & armed only with the broken controller. This bemused the poor souls, who were not ready for a man who was blatantly teetering on the brink of insanity.
I remember saying something like “By Jove! I think he's cracked it & we can leave” as my holy warrior rained down vengeance. Well I am a man of the cloth & decorum was called for. With that I grabbed the swordfish, which had been brought along for the ride, my laptop, the drugs & a few of the assault rifles that were lying around & charged the door, screaming the scream of a religious man on the edge.
With frightening speed & military precision Crazy Mean Dave had already cleared a path to jeep by the time I'd got outside & was laying into whoever or whatever was near him at the time. I quickly jumped in, started it up & yelled, “Get in you fool or we're going to miss our flight!” He looked over at me, went from standing start to full run without going through any of the motions in-between, dived into the back of the jeep & shouted “Drive you twat!” I put my foot down & spraying sand at our foes, we scream off into the Iraqi sunset.
As we thunder past the makeshift stage, only then do we find out what had taken place.
Due to not a lot happening since the war, the townsfolk were getting a bit bored & with all the commotion, had turned up to see what was going on. & Not knowing who (X)S-Club 7 was, they stuck around to watch the show. They're first & last mistake. But as soon as (X)S-Club 7 started to perform, the town's people had cut the power, stormed the stage & were currently stoning them, their manager & Georing to death for crimes against Allah.
I put my foot down so that we wouldn't get involved in the hellishly intense & barbaric chaos. & With that we made our way to the nearest airport. Where Crazy Mean Dave is currently off sorting out the tickets & I am writing this entry whilst waiting for the first flight out of here.
& People say politics is boring.
I think I prefer the church it's safer.
Crazy Mean Dave & myself had come to terms with our situation & settled in for a long, drawn out & bloody conflict with Georing, who had turned up personally to watch the show, & (X)S-Club 7. Now with a live video feed to Kylon's news desk via a webcam that my compadre found in a cupboard whilst we were looking for Kuwaiti gold. We waited for the reckoning to come.
Kylon could do nothing but sit & watch this, a most terrible war unfold live. Geoffrey Robinson was not answering our cries for help, the ungrateful crack fiend; all attempts to contact the CIA had failed & even our lord & saver had seemed to have gone on a sabbatical, but as always he moves in very complex, often strange & incredibly mysterious ways. As Crazy Mean Dave said just before all the layers of hell descended upon the quiet town of Mandila “It's just you & me, Bloor! We are so fuckin' screwed!”
Crazy Mean Dave & I had decided to start upon the Pharmaceutical supplies, in a vain attempt to drown out the boredom & appending doom from our warped & fragile minds. Unfortunately we'd only got 10 pellets of Mescaline, 1 vial of liquid Acid which we'd procured from a General in the American army (he said they were using it on the Iraqi's as some kind of mind control agent, but we had just left the hotel & I wasn't in the mood at the time to talk about such things), a large quantity of battery acid strength Amphetamine Sulphate & a big bag of Skunk.
The Problem with Hallucinogens is that they sever all connections the mind has to reality. & For a while it was just what I had ordered. But they are not a drug for war. Amphetamines are however very good for intense situations, so we'd ingested a large quantity of both.
2 hours into the Acid, Mescaline & Amphetamine trip (which is a combination which only a seasoned pro should ever attempt) Elgar's Nimrod playing through the TV from one of the assault rifles (for some strange reason had a mp3 player build in), Crazy Mean Dave climbing the walls, ranting on about charging the enemy head on & we could take them if only we had a paddling pool & some scotch. I sighed & started to roll a large spliff, to calm my friend down from whatever universe his head was stuck in.
Then it happened.
Slightly muffled but audible, the Sound's of hell itself started to emanate from the Air filtration system & I thought to myself, so it has begun.
The tactical concert strike, banded by the Geneva Convention for being the worst torture ever devised by man, was in full swing & by the sound of it they were really going to town on this one.
But as I said before God moves in mysterious ways & as suddenly as it begun, it stopped & we were plunged into darkness.
Amazed, we looked at each other as the backup generator kicked in & we were bathed in a low & dirty light, both of us wondering what was going on outside our haven. The silence lasted for what seemed like hours. But with no time perception, who could say how long we waited, in that bunker for the end to come.
Suddenly the doors burst open & Georing myrmidons rush in, time seemed to slow & a calm, like those moments before a great storm, enveloped the room.
In slow motion Crazy Mean Dave jumped from his chair, screamed, “I am the fuckin' Duracell Bunny! Feel my wraith Brittany Spears!” & rushed towards the amassing congregation in the doorway, fuelled by drugs & armed only with the broken controller. This bemused the poor souls, who were not ready for a man who was blatantly teetering on the brink of insanity.
I remember saying something like “By Jove! I think he's cracked it & we can leave” as my holy warrior rained down vengeance. Well I am a man of the cloth & decorum was called for. With that I grabbed the swordfish, which had been brought along for the ride, my laptop, the drugs & a few of the assault rifles that were lying around & charged the door, screaming the scream of a religious man on the edge.
With frightening speed & military precision Crazy Mean Dave had already cleared a path to jeep by the time I'd got outside & was laying into whoever or whatever was near him at the time. I quickly jumped in, started it up & yelled, “Get in you fool or we're going to miss our flight!” He looked over at me, went from standing start to full run without going through any of the motions in-between, dived into the back of the jeep & shouted “Drive you twat!” I put my foot down & spraying sand at our foes, we scream off into the Iraqi sunset.
As we thunder past the makeshift stage, only then do we find out what had taken place.
Due to not a lot happening since the war, the townsfolk were getting a bit bored & with all the commotion, had turned up to see what was going on. & Not knowing who (X)S-Club 7 was, they stuck around to watch the show. They're first & last mistake. But as soon as (X)S-Club 7 started to perform, the town's people had cut the power, stormed the stage & were currently stoning them, their manager & Georing to death for crimes against Allah.
I put my foot down so that we wouldn't get involved in the hellishly intense & barbaric chaos. & With that we made our way to the nearest airport. Where Crazy Mean Dave is currently off sorting out the tickets & I am writing this entry whilst waiting for the first flight out of here.
& People say politics is boring.
I think I prefer the church it's safer.