Just to reiterate,
this is just a story, it is historically inaccurate, factually inaccurate,
logistically inaccurate, militarily inaccurate, medically inaccurate,
geographically inaccurate, scientifically inaccurate, linguistically
inaccurate, religiously inaccurate, tactically inaccurate, diabolically
inaccurate, grammatically inaccurate and prone to bad spelling and speling
mist-aches.
Chapter One
Flabby tooted his horn. Then realising nobody had heard it, tooted the car horn. There was one good thing you could say about the Suzuki Alto and that was that the horn was excellent. It really was the only good thing anybody had said about the Alto. The well-known journalist and broadcaster Jeremy Clarkson had placed it at the top of the ‘Ideal vehicle for a bag lady’ list and had spent forty minutes of one edition of Top Gear slagging it off. Flabby didn’t care, the Fiat Seicento had been just too small, just one six-pack of Lofty-Brau and the boot had been full, the hamsters never had enough legroom and the kids usually had to run behind.
Joe, the security guard fell off his chair. The Alto did have a good horn as he usually slept for most of his shift unless the security state was high, then he just dozed. He raised the barrier and waved as Flabby crawled through. “Flabby, you’ve forgotten something!” he shouted. Realising his mistake, Flabby crawled back, jumped in the Alto and drove through. He parked his car in his designated space ignoring the bicycle somebody had parked there. He jumped out and threw the mangled wreckage of what had once been a bicycle into the nearby skip. “Strange, I’ve never seen staff plates on a bicycle before” he said to himself confirming some form of madness but not really caring.
He wandered into the squadron office and swapped Pleasantries with Tom Riddle, the squadron clerk for the moment. Pleasantries are a free gift available from the local Soddo petrol station and similar to the crap toys you get in those small chocolate eggs. It is in fact, a small toy that you build from dozens of small fiddly pieces, is designed for 7-12 year olds and had really taken off in the military world. You got one free after every four gallons or 800 litres depending on how bad you are at imperial to metric conversion. So Pleasantries swapped, Flabby picked up his mail and feasted his eyes on Tom’s replacement. It was nice to have a woman about the place and she was all woman. Her long blond hair cascaded down her back. Obviously, some form of scalp complaint thought Flabby, never having seen a partially bald woman before. This was Melanie (Melons) Grapelli who was to take over when Tom finally departed. “Hope she gets her hair sorted out before then,” thought Flabby and headed for the briefing room.
Flabby spotted the rest of his troop sat altogether on one side of the briefing room. Due to a severe lack of manpower and a bad case of writer’s block, there were some familiar faces. ‘Knocker’ Down was there, as was ‘Danny Boy’ Dhmorerghahenaienain (Wilkins) and finally ‘Nige’ Nigel Ruperting-Smythe. It was the old team again and some had been pulled from instructor’s posts or desk jobs just to make up the numbers. Flabby couldn’t remember who the Defence Secretary was this week but he wished he would do something about the financial cutbacks that were severely restricting the regiment. “Who the fcuk’s that lot?” asked Knocker pointing to the other side of the briefing room. “I see you haven’t lost any of your subtlety Knocker,” said Flabby, smiling at Knocker’s ability to say exactly what everybody was thinking. “They look like fcuking authors to me,” Knocker continued. “Fcuking hate authors” he added, glaring at the other side of the briefing room. “Especially those fcukers that write spoofs” he was in full swing now. “Think they’re funny but they know fcuk all” his outburst was attracting attention. “What you looking at, typo boy? He asked nobody in particular, staring demonically at the other troop.
Fortunately the briefing started. The Boss appeared on the
scene and all sat rigid in due respect. Knocker picked his nose and farted
loudly. “Fcuking spoofs, all of them,” he muttered to himself and nonchalantly scratched
his arrse. The whole hierarchy was there, the CO, all the officers and even the
RSM. Strangely, the RSM’s stick appeared to be held together by black masking
tape. “Gentlemen” said the CO and everybody looked up except Knocker who was
still scratching his arrse. “Gentlemen, your squadron OCs have been briefed.
They will pass on all the relevant details and hopefully some of the irrelevant
ones as well” He paused for a response to his joke and a crawling little shite
somewhere sniggered then shut up as nobody else was laughing. “Had to fcuking
be them,” grumbled Knocker. “All that’s left is to wish you a safe journey
there and back and don’t let the regiment down,” concluded the
Major Edward ‘Teddy’ O’Bayre greeted the troop. “Fcuking suits” grumbled Knocker, hating all officers with a real vengeance. “Don’t need ‘em, don’t fcuking want ‘em” he continued. “How’s thing’s Knocker?” asked Teddy. “Oh, fine sir thank you very much and how’s the wife and little Rupert?” grovelled Knocker trying to keep a straight face. “Fine thank you, on solids now and soon be walking,” explained Teddy. “And Rupert?” asked Knocker pushing it to the limit. Teddy glared at Knocker and Knocker finally shut up. He picked his other nostril and tried flicking what he had found at the other troop.
“Who has heard of Bogezuela?” asked Teddy and wasn’t
surprised that nobody knew. “According to OUR intelligence, Bogezuela is a
landlocked country that lies between
“Who has heard of Chavs?” asked Teddy. Who hadn’t would have been nearer the mark. “Caught one pishing up my hedge the other week,” said Knocker determined to get a word in edgeways. “Good job I’d taken an MP5 home with me. Stuck it up his fcuking nostril, then the fcuker shat himself as well” he concluded. Teddy decided to ignore the slight breach of military discipline and continued with the brief. “The reason that Chavs are called Chavs is because they follow the example of Hugo Chavez. I don’t mean they invade foreign countries, in fact it’s just the dress sense or lack of that they copy. You don’t think that wearing a hood when it’s a hundred in the shade is anything else other than fashion. And those baggy trousers and everything several sizes too big, it’s all off a web site run by Chavez and he markets and sells a lot of the clothing as well. If we take him out we can not only get a million brownie points off Argentina and they’ll hopefully conveniently forget about their territorial claim on the Falklands or the Malvinas as they call them but we get to tidy up the youth of today” concluded Teddy, gasping for air as Knocker had let one go again. “Oh and I forgot to say, they have oil. So if we don’t get them first then the yanks will,” said Teddy leaving the most important point until last.
“Sir, do you get to wear a white suit like in Ultimate
Force?” asked Knocker still intent on annoying Teddy. “Yes” replied Teddy, not
rising to the bait. “We need somebody to shag then,” joked Knocker, he hated
Ultimate Force but he watched every episode. “Listen up then” said Teddy and
Knocker ignored him and fiddled with his balls. “We fly in civvies to
“This is the regimental transport,” said Teddy as they sat
on a minibus heading for
“Not exactly subtle was it?” moaned Knocker but glad he was
out of the minibus. “Tactical as fcuk” he said and pulled his
They walked through the airport building, the amount of
droopy moustaches seemed to increase and that was just the women. They knew
they couldn’t be far from the check-in for the Argentinean airline, Aero
Pepperminto. They saw their flight on the board, noted the flight number but
failed to tell the author so he either has to guess or he has to try and work
round it. Teddy walked up to the first desk with their passports and tickets
and spoke to the check-in clerk, a Mrs Malvinas. Stroking her long droopy
moustache with one hand, she typed the details into the computer using the
other. “This isn’t real,” she said to Teddy. “I know it’s not real, it’s a
story and we are really in the hands of the author,” replied Teddy. “No, I mean
the moustache isn’t real,” said Mrs Malvinas pulling off her moustache
revealing her true Latin beauty and a slightly smaller moustache though not
quite so droopy. “I have to ask you some questions,” she continued stroking the
smaller, less droopy moustache. “Did you pack your bags yourself?” It was the
standard security spiel and she went through the lot. No, they didn’t have any
weapons, pornography, scissors, nail files, thermo nuclear devices or
inflammable shoes. “What about those w@nkers?” she asked pointing to the rest.
Teddy looked at her surprised at the use of the word ‘w@nkers”, it wasn’t as if
she knew them. “My husband Mr Malvinas was killed on the Islas Malvinas by an
SAS officer called
From nowhere, two armed police officers jumped on Mrs
Malvinas. One pinned her arms, the other held her by the moustache. A figure
behind Teddy spoke and Teddy almost shat himself. “She was going to kill you,”
said a suited figure that had appeared at roughly the same time as the armed
police officers. “She’s working for Chavez,” explained the suit. “Her husband
was killed on the
The excitement over, the troop piled out of the office and
checked with the new check-in clerk if in fact they were checked in or not.
“I’ll check,” said the replacement check-in clerk stroking his droopy moustache
with one hand and punching the keyboard with the other. Teddy was a bit worried
with the punching but he just put it down to a Latin temperament and/or a shite
keyboard. “Storming or non-storming?” asked the replacement check-in clerk not
believing Teddy’s story that they were visiting
Chapter Two
The flight was boring. The in-flight movie was The Mask of
Zorro but in Spanish, a co-production between
So after many hours, the plane circled over
Captain Belladonna shook Teddy’s hand and welcomed them to
They sat on the Hercules and apart from the safety demonstration being in Spanish, they could have just as easily been on an RAF Hercules. A fat droopy moustached AWAF (Argentinean Women’s Air Force) showed them the emergency exits, the oxygen mask and told them the in-flight movie would be Zorro Strikes Boringly Yet Again 2. They settled down next to the inevitable crates of chickens and tried to ignore the smell. That was Knocker again and he grinned from ear to ear. The flight was to take roughly three hours so they tried to make themselves as comfortable as possible. The Herc rolled down the runway but then the pilot put the foot brake on and the rolling stopped. With the engines burning and turning, the Herc lumbered to the end of the runway and awaited a call from the tower. A small man with a small but still droopy moustache leant of the tower window and shouted to the Herc pilot and despite the noise of the engines the pilot still managed to hear him. They were off, they thundered down the runway at the speed of a clapped out 2CV, and finally they were in the air.
The pilot banked sharply and they headed off in the general
direction of
They clambered out of the Herc, falling over as it hadn’t
quite stopped yet and picking themselves up looked around. There were
anti-aircraft guns in evidence and the good old fashioned but trusty Sabre
system, the follow-up to the Rapier. There was some damage but the airport was
obviously perfectly usable. A few hundred metres away as
Dave sat in the back of the Herc holding a tissue to his
bloody nose. Teddy was not happy but at least they were unloading their
equipment. It was his mistake really as when Knocker and Danny Boy had said
they would sort things out, he had given the go ahead. Dave had put up a fight
but a flimsy is no match for Knocker in full diplomatic mode. “Hucking
dastards” moaned Dave stuffing a tissue up each nostril. The kit was stuffed
into the back of a lorry that Diego had provided, everybody jumped in and off
they roared. The lorry roared through the
The ranch was an ideal location. It was private, it had
broadband access and there was even a swimming pool though no water just a
couple of lizards. Teddy binned the idea of a dip and checked the inside.
“Don’t get too comfortable, we’re not staying long” he told the rest. “Set your
kit up Nige” and Nige connected up the two laptops and switched them both on. He
checked his emails, checked ARRSE and started looking for ways of finding the
suppliers of Chavez’s ventures. They had to be in Bogezuela but where? Alternatively,
maybe not Bogezuela, perhaps
“Listen up then!” shouted Teddy, breaking up the argument
though really it was just Knocker arguing with himself as the author wasn’t
listening and neither was anybody else. “Right listen up, the plan such as it
is, is to blow the bridge crossing the Rio Grundie river but AFTER the
Bogezuelan troops have crossed it. They will be caught in a trap and with our
or should I say their air power, they will wish they had stayed at home. Planes
were already on standby at RAF Stanley and the penguins are looking forward to
a few hours peace and quiet. Hugo Chavez himself is rumoured to be with the
reinforcements and he is to be taken alive which is our secondary mission. Do
you hear me Knocker? Alive!” Knocker mumbled something, a reply that involved
sex and travel and then farted noisily. “Doesn’t sound like much of a mission,
so it doesn’t” said Danny Boy. “Doesn’t sound like much of a fcuking story, Roy
of the fcuking Irish Rangers, total shite” said Knocker constructively but
acting like the total cnut that he is because its my story and he can either
like it or fcuking lump it. “And what about the fcuking website then? Asked
Knocker, a fair one but a tricky one. “Nige will stay here and try and locate
the servers, the suppliers and anything else the author can make up in time to
give the story any credibility” said Teddy hoping that it wouldn’t take long as
he was dying for a pish. “Well it’s definitely not Tom Clancy” said Teddy and
headed for the toilet. “So no fcuking Sean fcuking Bean then!” shouted Knocker
just in case anybody in
So the vague thread of a plot explained to the troops, they
settled down and did only what trained killers might do. Knocker whittled but
got told off, as it was the table leg and the ranch was only rented. Nige
posted on ARRSE and bought a USB stick that he decided to keep well away from
Knocker when it came, as he would probably whittle that as well. Flabby oiled
his MP5; Teddy brushed wood shavings off his white suit, as Knocker had been a
bit careless while whittling and Diego tried to get a signal on the TV. They
were due to leave in the morning so the kit was checked, double checked and then
triple checked as Teddy had a bit of a bad memory and had totally forgotten
about the double check. Teddy disappeared into one of the bedrooms and came
back in full military gear, although Knocker did think the creases were a bit
sharp. “Cut your fcuking ‘and off, they would,” he exclaimed to most of Buenos
Aires as he was facing that way but who fortunately didn’t speak English or
Knocker’s particular version of English. Most of
Chapter Three
Nige was explaining to Teddy what he was doing. Using all
his skill and knowledge and with loads of luck, Nige had found out that the web
site was actually hosted by an Argentinean Media Company but that had quickly
been superseded by a Bogezuelan media company. The web site had been designed
using ‘Adobe Design a Shite Site for Chavs for Windows XP’ and using a few
sneaky moves, Nige had found out that the registration details were embedded in
the HTML of the web site design. Apparently the patch, SP2 does clear this
problem up but luckily they had not upgraded. It was also an address in
Nige had a contact thanks to Diego and all action would be
organized through an Antonio ‘Tony’ Rattin, the son of a famous footballer but
also a member of the Argentinean Special Forces. All he had to do was say the
word and the raids would go ahead. The reason that Chavez had invaded
The idea to ask the British had mainly been the reluctance
to ask the Americans and the absolute stupidity of even asking the Russians or
the Chinese had mainly been down to Captain Diego Belladonna and his influence
in what was still a military government. It was just they wore their uniforms
less. The drain on the budget, keeping an active campaign for the return of the
Malvinas was annoying several government members and the reluctance to declare
war had swung the government to come round to Diego’s way of thinking. Give the
Malvinas back but see what you can get for them first. HMG had jumped at the
chance and despite the fact, the British Army was active on every continent
except
It was the lull before the storm. Knocker sat in a pile of wood shavings and the table wobbled on its four heavily whittled legs. Nige tapped away at the laptops pretending to work but Lara Croft was nothing to do with Bogezuela and he really should have hidden it a bit better. “Can’t you do some fcuking work Nige?” shouted an annoyed Flabby. He wasn’t used to having somebody else calling the shots and between them, Teddy and Diego were making his presence there seem a bit superfluous. Danny Boy was dozing in a chair and Teddy and Diego talked quietly in the kitchen. “Sorry Nige, you carry on,” said Flabby feeling guilty at taking it out on Nige. “What’s up Flabby?” asked Nige freezing Lara in mid somersault. “I feel as things are slipping me by, Nige,” said a reflective Flabby. “I really think it might be time to hang up my MP5”. Nige looked at him amazed. Flabby was the most popular guy in the regiment, he was a fantastic advertisement for the regiment and a guy you could trust with your life. “I think I might go up and see Ryan after this is all over,” continued Flabby. “Need a holiday and a decent meal as well” he joked, picking at what looked fried turds in vomit, the meal that Knocker had thrown together or more likely thrown up. He spat out a piece of wood shavings that had somehow made its way into the potato and tried to cut one of the sausages. He pushed the plate away in disgust and the table collapsed sending plates, cups and last month’s copy of SAS Weekly onto the floor. “Knocker you cnut!” he shouted and Knocker slid out of the backdoor and hid in the garden.
It was late in the evening when Teddy called them all in for a final briefing before they got some shut eye as it was to be an early start. “He’s changed his mind” Teddy addressed the group. “Who has?” asked Flabby suddenly wondering what the hell was going on. “I bet it’s the fcuking author, isn’t it?” asked Knocker fearing the worst. “Yep, he’s changed his mind but in fairness it is his story, it’s nothing like real life and just typing this shite means he can knock off a few extra paragraphs without thinking” Teddy told the group. “Situation fcuking normal there then, so it is” Danny Boy got in just before Knocker. “Right listen up,” said Teddy, very predictably. “Nige, you will be going along with Flabby and the rest. Diego and I will remain here and act on the information Nige has gathered. I’m sure you’ll manage without me Flabby” Teddy wasn’t as stupid as he looked and Flabby suddenly seemed a lot happier. “You’d better not lose my save game” said Nige but secretly he was glad of a bit of action. He had been on ARRSE and had got a severe hammering from somebody called ‘Biscuits_AB’. Flabby had sympathized but hadn’t been able to help; he’d already had a run in himself and come off a very definite second. “So the four of you will fly out in a special forces Huey, get dropped off, wait for the Bogezuelans to cross the bridge and then blow it. From then on, you MUST try and locate Hugo Chavez and capture him. The Huey will be waiting for your call and will pick the five of you up again”
“Piece of pish” said Knocker, ever the optimist. “You frightened of getting your suit dirty, Teddy boy?” asked Knocker and Teddy suddenly reached out and grabbed Knocker by the throat. Knocker was a huge mountain of a man but he found himself in a vice like grip and for once in his life, didn’t say anything and he didn’t even struggle.
“Flabby will do a better job than I ever would and the other mission is more suited to our talents” he looked at Diego but still held Knocker in the vice like grip. “You are a pain in the arrse, Knocker” he spoke through his teeth. “But, you are one of the best and we can’t do it without it you. Are you still in?” he asked Knocker just inches from his face. “Fcuking dead right mate” replied Knocker just about managing to speak but still not daring to move. Teddy released Knocker and sat down on the chair, which collapsed. “Knocker you fcuking cnut!” he shouted but Knocker was nowhere to be seen. The rest rolled on the floor with laughter and a sheepish Knocker eventually returned and joined in. Teddy laughed, Diego laughed but the bloke down the road didn’t as two of his best chickens had been squashed that day and they were so flat he couldn’t do anything with them. He liked chicken soup but road gravel did nothing for the flavour. He dug a hole in his garden and buried them but swearing vengeance on the lorry driver. The evening came to an end. The bloke down the road went into his house and poured a glass of wine, a nice Galtieri, not too dry but fruity in flavour and good with most meals or at the wake of a couple of chickens. Diego had rung somebody but since I don’t speak Spanish, I don’t have a clue about the conversation. He was to stay at the ranch; there were ample places to get your head down. Each found a bedroom or sofa or in Knocker’s case a cupboard and settled down for some sleep. Somebody woke Danny Boy to tell him it was time to go to sleep which didn’t please him much and eventually the ranch rattled with the sound of snoring and Knocker’s farting. Down the road, the bloke had given his chickens a suitable send off and on the way to his bedroom, tripped over the cat, knocked his head on the edge of the table and died sometime during the night. Not really important to the plot but the cat was well looked after by a neighbour.
Morning broke and so did Teddy’s bed as Knocker had been sleep whittling. It was a rude awakening and made even ruder by the string of expletives that Teddy threw at Knocker. The team had their breakfast, Knocker listened to the snap, crackle and pop, Danny Boy had hash browns or hash blacks as Knocker had cooked it. Flabby just had a coffee and Nige had a shite now that Knocker’s pyramid of excrement had finally been blasted from the toilet. Diego stood outside and smoked a cigarette, as all operations were now non-smoking. Smoking can kill and it was a good job Smudge wasn’t here, he was usually on his second packet before breakfast. The transport was to pick them up at 05.30 and since it was now 05.35, Diego got on the phone and it did sound as though he was rollicking somebody. Nige could have translated but he was still in the toilet putting on his intimate deodorant. Diego and Teddy were to leave later but Teddy was keeping things close to his chest so I’m not sure exactly when. Finally, the same lorry as yesterday roared up towards the ranch and screeched to a halt. The four pulled their kit from the garage, threw it on the back of the truck and climbed onboard. After yesterday’s performance, nobody sat up front with the driver and with a screech of tyres, he roared off towards their pickup point for the Huey.
Twenty frantic minutes later, they were stood in an army
base and the familiar sound of a Huey was heard in the distance. Large furrows
showed that the lorry was now long gone, as was most of the grass on what
looked like a polo field. They stood with piles of kit awaiting the arrival of
the Huey. A van appeared from nowhere and drew up right next to them. The rear
of the van opened and a really hugely large woman in some sort of uniform asked
them if they would like tea or coffee in perfect Argentinean, what else. Of
course, Nige being a bit of a linguist was able to translate. It was the
Argentinean equivalent of a Naafi wagon and like most Naafi wagons or some
unscrupulous traders in
The Huey landed and the pilot jumped out and had a coffee
and a bacon sarnie. The co-pilot shouted something to the pilot and he brought
him a mug of Bovril and a Cornish pasty. Flabby got the guys to throw the kit
in the back of the Huey while he talked with the pilot. Fortunately, the pilot
spoke English, as he was an international polo player and had been the
Chapter Four
The Huey still smelling of sick and worse still Knocker’s
sick headed towards Rio Grundie, not exactly as the crow flies but avoiding
possible contact with the enemy. The four of them talked in the back but very
quietly hoping the author wouldn’t hear them. They were always so critical of
the author or one in particular was and he sat very close to the partly open
door. One change of direction and he would possibly fall out so he spoke up a
bit and rapidly changed his tune. “Why the fcuk are we doing this?” asked
Knocker, it just HAD to be Knocker didn’t it? “
The Huey continued its journey and the smell of sick was quite bad in the back, despite the door being partly open. “Sorry about that, boys,” said Knocker trying to wipe down the kit with a small packet of wipes from the glove box of the Huey. The smell of sick mingled with the smell of disinfectant and a vague hint of orange blossom. It kept their mind off the journey and it meant they could get some feeling back in their numb arrses. Knocker made rude comments about numb arrses and the Household Cavalry but nobody was listening as the Ride of the Valkyries was on its nineteenth repeat and anything was better than listening to Knocker. The Huey swerved violently and they all ended up in a heap on the floor. The co-pilot gestured to them and they looked out the partly open door and saw a long line of troops, armoured vehicles and surprisingly an ice cream van. The Huey sped off trying to get as much distance between them and the troops who had been taking pot shots at them. Fortunately, the ice cream van had distracted the troops’ attention, so nobody had been ready and there wasn’t enough time to think of a SAM let alone try to fire one.
So they knew that Bogezuelan troops were already in
“Set ‘em up Danny Boy” said Flabby, not ordering another drink but telling Danny Boy to fit and set the charges on the bridge. For Danny Boy, this was a walk in the park as his undercover work in Northern Ireland had taught him all the ins and outs of explosives and how to make things, that go ‘bloody great bang’ in the night. So off bimbled Danny Boy with Nige to help or actually carry everything and probably do all the bits that involved getting wet. Flabby and Knocker were keeping an eye on things from opposite sides of the bridge. They didn’t want Danny Boy and Nige getting surprised handling enough PE to blow up the bridge. They didn’t mind the bridge blowing but timing was important, as they wanted Hugo Chavez to be on the Argentinean side when it went up. “Caught like a rat in a trap” was the way Teddy had described it. “All fcuked up and nowhere to go” was Knocker’s version and Flabby preferred that one. Danny Boy and Nige were wiring up the charges on the bridge and running the command wire back to their vantage point. He would have preferred to have used the wireless version but one call from a mobile and the PE you are holding could send you to the middle of next week or further. Plus the thing ran on batteries and army batteries remained fully charged only until you needed them and you could be jumping up and down on the t1t and nothing would happen if your battery was dead.
Danny Boy and Nige were finishing off by kicking dust onto the wire to cover it and they kicked their way back to the vantage point throwing up a cloud of dust that could be seen miles away. Fortunately there was just the four of them in the area, though they still weren’t sure when the rest of the Bogezuelan army was coming through. They had already seen the advance party so guessed, roughly twenty-four hours. They would just have to sit it out, hurry up and wait as they called it. Everybody thought it was non-stop action in the SAS but they did spend a large amount of time doing nothing or seemingly nothing, it was quite usual to have to play the waiting game and you weren’t paid extra for it. Flabby and Knocker returned to their vantage point and Flabby double-checked that the bridge would go when required. “A piece of pish, so it is” assured Danny Boy. Nige tried to dry his trousers as he had been right in thinking he would be doing the ‘wet’ bits. “Feels like pish, so it does,” joked Nige, grinning at Danny Boy. He was pish wet through but the heat of the day was drying him out, though a large cloud of steam wasn’t exactly tactical. Flabby hoped he would be dry before the Bogezuelans came through. Flabby took the first watch while the rest just settled down as best they could.
The time passed, they took it in turn to keep watch. Knocker had an adventure while answering a call of nature, having disturbed some kind of large snake that tried to attack him. That would have been fine but Knocker was in mid shite and with trousers and grundies round his ankles, not at his most manoeuvrable. Knocker had managed to pull out his knife, while trying to do the paperwork and trying to keep the snake from biting him where he was vulnerable. It had been a mammoth contest and Knocker had finally succeeded in decapitating the snake but not before the snake had bitten him. Heading back to the rest, still not properly dressed, he had insisted that somebody had to suck out the poison. There had been NO takers but fortunately, the snake hadn’t been poisonous. Oh, how they had laughed as Knocker had described the contest, blow by blow, bite by bite and finally he got his clothing straight though he did prefer to stand after that. Snakebites can be deadly and that was a lucky escape for the three of them. Knocker just had a very sore left cheek.
So approx. twenty hours after they had been dropped off, a cloud of dust was seen far in the distance on the Bogezuelan side of the bridge. Knocker had spotted it as he had stood on guard. Danny Boy wired up the final connections for the charges, pressed the ‘self test’ button and the ‘battery low’ light shone but only just. He whipped out spare batteries and exchanged them, pressing the button again and the green ‘ready’ light came on briefly and then went out. He exchanged the batteries again and this time the green light shone bright and clear mainly because he had wound the handle a few hundred times and the solar panel had been erected but carefully as it could give their position away. The green light was glaringly bright but he was ready and he knew that one press on the t1t and the bridge would be no more. The dust cloud was getting ever closer and Flabby looked through his binoculars and could just about make out individual vehicles and the infantry beside them. He also thought he could make out an open topped jeep with the mother of all droopy moustaches sitting in the back but it was just his eyes playing tricks or so he thought, as the figure seemed to be wearing one of those bloody hooded tops. No moustache could be that big and that droopy. It all became clearer as the procession got closer and despite the figure being hooded, he knew it was Hugo Chavez and that was one hell of a moustache.
The procession got ever nearer and Flabby tried to guestimate the numbers but they wouldn’t keep still so he gave up. The lead vehicle, an AMX-13 light tank trundled over the bridge and stopped. Flabby saw a head appear from the turret and the head seemed to be looking around. Not the best light tank, as light tanks go but still a formidable adversary. The head that of course was complemented by a droopy moustache peered all around and appeared to be talking into a headset or Flabby hoped it was a headset as people who talk to themselves are less predictable when it comes to a conflict. The head disappeared with most of the droopy moustache and the AMX-13 trundled on. The rest of the convoy followed shortly afterwards and Flabby could see what they were up against, various armoured vehicles but mainly jeep type vehicles with some sort of light cannon on the back. A couple had chain driven machine guns, which wasn’t good news as even in the hands of an amateur, they could do serious damage. Strangely at the very rear and not particularly well protected was the hooded figure of Hugo Chavez who was seated in the passenger seat of a jeep with just a couple of hooded soldiers in the back to keep him safe. This was good news or so Flabby thought, as they could probably be easily separated from the main convoy.
The convoy finished crossing the bridge and slowly disappeared into the distance. Flabby knew they had to blow the bridge soon as every minute that passed made their task of collaring Chavez harder. He gave the order to Danny Boy who was winding the handle as the sun had gone in and the solar panel was now useless as were the fresh batteries he had just put in the detonator. Danny Boy wound the handle like a man possessed until the faintest glimmer of a green light appeared and pressed the t1t. Nothing happened so Knocker took over and the orange ‘Overload’ light shone but he slowed it down until the green light shone bright and clear. Danny Boy pressed the t1t and the world erupted around them as chunks of concrete flew through the air. Peering through the dust and picking smaller lumps of concrete from his hair, Flabby could see a huge gap where the bridge had once been. “One down, one to go” said Nige, quite content to state the obvious. “Right, let’s move!” shouted Flabby as in the distance a couple of the jeeps were on their way back to see what the commotion was. Finding a convenient grassy hillock, the team waited for the two jeeps to get into range and Danny Boy pulled the rocket launcher from his back, primed it, making sure the powder was dry, briefed Knocker when to light the blue touch paper and settled down with the first jeep in his sights. Actually he didn’t do that, he just switched on, waited for the blue screen as this rocket launcher hadn’t yet been updated to Linux, switched off, banged it on the ground a few times, switched back on and then entered his user name and password.
“What’s the fcuking password again?” shouted Danny Boy as
the rocket launcher flashed ‘Try again tosser’ on the LCD screen. “
Danny Boy switched off the rocket launcher eventually as it
had to install all the updates it had downloaded. So after three restarts it
was finally switched off. The team headed in the direction of the convoy but
were ready for any eventuality, as they knew the two jeeps would be missed.
Suddenly realising this and feeling a bit of a cnut, Danny Boy turned on the
rocket launcher again and Knocker shoved one up the spout just in case. They
headed off in the same general direction for about ten minutes when suddenly,
the AMX-13 was spotted heading back towards the bridge. Why the AMX-13 should
be spotted remained a mystery until Danny Boy adjusted the sight’s contrast and
the spots disappeared. Danny Boy switched to light tank mode and entered the
appropriate details into the database. The sight showed a picture of a Flymo
lawnmower so Danny Boy re-entered the details and this time the picture of an
AMX-13 was visible. Ok, it was a French one but French or otherwise, the
Arrsebuster missiles were capable of blowing the crap out of most things and
they didn’t really care where the thing came from or if it was made under
licence somewhere. The AMX-13 had spotted them and was heading in their
direction. Rounds whistled around them, which frightened Knocker, as he hated
rounds especially buying one. Danny Boy waited and waited, a round thudded into
the earth next to where he kneeled but he waited for the green light so he
could pull the trigger. Flabby cried out, twice in fact. Once as a round cut a
neat hole in his sleeve and blood trickled from fortunately just a graze.
Fortunately nothing serious but he was deadly serious when he shouted in Danny
Boy’s ear “For fcuk’s sake, will you shoot the fcuking thing
Chapter Five
They tabbed it towards what was left of the convoy, still a formidable force if droopy moustaches were anything to go by. They could still call in the RAF who were on standby at RAF Stanley and at that very moment, pilots were sat in their aircraft playing uckers with the ground crew. “What do you reckon boys?” asked Flabby trying to gauge if they needed the Crabs or not. “Fcuk ‘em” said Knocker predictably. “Sure we don’t need those fcukers, so we don’t,” replied Danny Boy stroking the Arrsebuster launcher, which is allowed. “We can handle this lot no probs,” replied Nige eager to get in a bit of action. “And I bet the fcukers won’t move until they’ve finished their game of uckers,” said Knocker scathingly but surprisingly accurately. “Right then, let’s go and kick some arrse,” decided Flabby following the democratic principle or so the others thought. Actually, that had been his decision and he was just glad they agreed with him. “Makes it so much easier,” he said to himself and they set off in pursuit of the rest of the convoy.
Using what little cover there was, they made their way until they could just make out a dust cloud and it was settling, which meant the convoy had stopped. They crept closer looking for a good vantage point that usually is a grassy knoll. The SAS have great belief in grassy knolls and have even been known to take their own. There had been that embarrassing time when the inflatable version had been taken on a job and somebody had forgotten the foot pump. Three days later the thing still hadn’t been inflated and three of the four troop members had been lying prostrate on the ground due to trying to inflate the thing. The fourth had been Smudge Smith who had absolutely no puff due to his chain smoking but even he had given it his best shot. But failing miserably, he had started on his second pack of cigarettes and prayed for a foot pump, a passing cyclist or anything that would help to inflate the thing
So a convenient grassy knoll appeared and the four sought cover with an excellent view of the convoy. The convoy was in all round defence positions with the vehicle carrying Chavez in the middle of the circle and it was reminiscent of those old cowboys and Indians films. They could smell food; the familiar odour of something burning got their juices going. They had been living on compo rations and they really missed Ryan. What he could do with compo was something just short of a miracle. Flabby bit into his ‘Mousey Crunch’ bar from Canberry’s and fortunately or unfortunately depending on your point of view or sense of taste, didn’t find any mouse. He did have a ‘Turkish Surprise’ bar as well but was genuinely frightened what he might find, so he stuffed it back into his pocket for later, much, much later or even later than that.
Danny Boy was banging the Arrsebuster launcher on the ground to clear an internal error and apart from him being electrocuted twice, it seemed to be working. “Remember we want that Chavez fcuker alive,” reminded Flabby and Danny Boy with the Arrsebuster finally working was entering data into it. He punched the ‘enter’ button and the launcher whirred and chuntered computing the best shot, it did remind him that the hard disk needed defragging but he ignored that as he would probably have to bang it on the ground a few more times yet and that usually got rid of THAT message. There were probably a dozen vehicles and approx. a hundred men and heavily armed but the Arrsebuster had given them a 92.4% rate of success once it had computed all the data entered. It did suggest that the best day to attack would be a Wednesday and today was a Thursday but Flabby didn’t think it mattered that much. Still nicely hidden, the team made their final preparations and the adrenalin flowed as Knocker had crushed the bottle when he had lain down. “Shouldn’t need that fcuker anyway,” said Knocker and threw the empty bottle away.
Danny Boy pulled the trigger and the Arrsebuster whooshed into life. Several vehicles burst into flames and swarthy men with singed or burning droopy moustaches flew through the air. Knocker reloaded the Arrsebuster for Danny Boy and the launcher whooshed into life again. The scene they looked down on was sheer carnage as burning vehicles crashed into each other or ran down infantrymen or both. “Come on Nige!” shouted Flabby leaving the other two to sort out the convoy as Chavez’s vehicle was seen to drive off heading back towards the blown bridge. Flabby and Nige tried to anticipate the vehicle and head it off while the other two literally blew the crap out of what was left of the convoy. Danny Boy was loading the Arrsebuster himself and Knocker was picking off the infantrymen who ran around like headless chickens. Any large group got an Arrsebuster up them, which is definitely bad for the health as they were finding out to their cost.
Flabby and Nige were just ahead of Chavez’s jeep, they could see it tearing down the track, a droopy moustache half beating Chavez to death and close to doing an ‘Isadora Duncan’ by getting caught in the rear wheels and either strangling him, pulling him out of the vehicle or giving the closest shave he would have in his life. Somebody in the back was talking frantically or frantically talking, it was just too far away to tell. “The fcuker’s calling for help!” shouted Flabby and let off a few rounds, narrowly missing the vehicle. The vehicle swerved trying to avoid Flabby’s rounds and sped off again with Flabby and Nige in hot pursuit. Nige finally had the vehicle in his sights, let off a couple of rounds and the vehicle lifted in the air throwing out the occupants onto the ground. The vehicle somersaulted a couple of times, rolled a few times and came to rest upside down, close to the river. As the vehicle was probably American, it exploded in a ball of fire and burned fiercely. Flabby and Nige were there like a shot and dispatched Chavez’s former fellow passengers with a couple of shots. Chavez sat on the ground, his hood now down; you could see his face or what face wasn’t covered by the mother of all droopy moustaches. “Too late Eenglish peeg” said Chavez sounding like a Mexican bandit and just too stereotypical to be believed.
Back at the massacre, things were going well for Danny Boy and Knocker. Danny Boy had given up on the Arrsebuster as there weren’t any large enough groups to fire any more missiles and there wasn’t a vehicle left that wasn’t burning, on its side or roof or both. They were just finishing off the stragglers and it was a cross between a Benny Hill sketch and a fairground shooting stand with those ducks that never fell over when hit. The stragglers here WERE falling over when hit, in fact they were falling over BEFORE they were hit which made them all the harder to finish off. Finally, with some persistence and the convenient but necessary ignoring of a white flag, the last of the stragglers were sent to meet their maker. The vehicles just burned sending plumes of smoke into the air and it was probably this smoke that had attracted the attention of the first artillery shell as with a scream and an earthshaking explosion, it landed rather too close for comfort to Danny Boy and Knocker. “Fcuking leg it!” shouted Danny Boy, heading towards the bridge and Flabby and Nige. “Do you think I’m fcuking stupid?” asked Knocker and not really expecting an answer as he tore past Danny Boy at a rapid rate of knots.
Back at the river, Flabby and Nige had heard the shell going
over and had twigged that the frantic talking on the radio had been to call up
the artillery. They sought what cover they could find and Chavez was dragged
along by his hood and Flabby kicked him into a depression in the ground, which
led to a depression in the depression, but Flabby didn’t give a fcuk about
Chavez. Alive they said but even after a good kicking, he’d still be alive,
perhaps only just but that wouldn’t be his problem. Nige was already on the
comms and within a couple of minutes, uckers pieces were scattered across the
pan at RAF Stanley as four Tornados took off heading for their location. They
flew over RAF Mount Pleasant but resisted the temptation to stop at the Naafi
and headed for Flabby’s location as fast as they could. They had clearance from
At Flabby’s destination, things were hotting up. Danny Boy and Knocker had made it safely back to Flabby’s location and they all tried to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible. The shelling had stopped but in the distance they could see bridge laying equipment making its way towards the Rio Grundie and it wasn’t just that, a whole armoured column was accompanying it. Even with the Arrsebuster, they wouldn’t stand a chance but just to prove a point; Knocker gave Chavez a kick somewhere delicate. Chavez cursed in Spanish and Knocker kicked him again just in case he was talking about him. Danny Boy had the Arrsebuster ready, Nige had already contacted the Argentinean Special Forces to get picked up and a Huey was already on its way. It was hoping that either the Huey or the RAF got there before the bridge laying equipment had done its job. Flabby and the team tried to make it as difficult as possible, several bridge layers were now floating down the Rio Grundie and their bridge laying days were well and truly over. Danny Boy sent across the odd Arrsebuster but the database had refused to accept bridge laying equipment and the effect on the equipment was negligible. It slowed them down but didn’t stop them and just wasted precious Arrsebuster missiles.
The gap across the Rio Grundie was getting less and less, despite the best efforts of the team. Several bridge layers had paid the ultimate sacrifice and were now floating down the river but the armoured column had been giving covering fire. Flabby knew that as long as they had Chavez, then they weren’t in direct danger of being shelled but the various rounds that flew over their heads told them that the Bogezuelans were deadly serious. Then with a whoosh, a bang, a slight whoosh followed by a fizz, a bang and a huge whoosh, the bridge laying equipment exploded in a ball of fire and toppling sideways fell into the river. Frantic bridge layers jumped wherever they could, some to dowse the flames and some just to escape their bridge laying duties. Suddenly they just weren’t as keen as they had previously been. The area that had been occupied by the Bogezuelan armoured column was a huge ball of flame and Flabby and the rest finally heard the Tornados fly over, turn and come back in to let off another salvo. The shelling had stopped earlier but the artillery was no longer capable of anything else as the Tornados dropped their bombs and fired their missiles.
In just a few short minutes, it was all over, as the flames subsided, they could see a large cloud of dust heading away from the bridge or where the bridge had been or was going to be. Knocker kicked Chavez in celebration, who just grunted this time, he was learning. “Crabs, don’t you just love ‘em!” shouted Danny Boy and the four celebrated the end of the threat. Knocker continuing celebrating by kicking Chavez again but Chavez knew when he was beaten and kept quiet. Despite the sounds of the carnage on the other side of the bridge, they heard the familiar sounds of a Huey and rushed to a patch of open ground, waiting to be picked up. The Tornados had done the damage and armoured vehicles burned merrily on the far side of the river and the rest had obviously fled. This part of the mission was over and they sat on the ground and waited for the Huey.
The Huey arrived in a couple of minutes and they all piled
in. Knocker threw Chavez right into the back and touched his Heckler O’Koch as
a warning. Chavez said nothing but he knew he was well and truly stuffed so
with as much pride as he could muster, pulled himself onto a seat and belted
up. The Tornados finished at the Rio Grundie, headed towards
The Huey landed close to the airport building and Chavez was now handcuffed, Knocker always carried a pair just in case, he truly believed in safe sex. Teddy and Captain Belladonna were there to greet them. “Nice job chasps” said Teddy, trying to be humorous but just annoying Knocker. Chavez was led away, his hands now tied by tie-wraps as Knocker didn’t go ANYWHERE without his handcuffs. Flabby told Teddy all about their adventures and Teddy nodded like one of those dogs on your parcel shelf, the ones like back in good old days, when men were men, sheep were never nervous and your dad drove a Marina or an Allegro. “Bet he’s done fcuk all!” whispered Knocker but being heard several kilometres away. Teddy just looked at Knocker, one of those long withering stares but Knocker ignored it, scratched his groin and farted a couple of times. “We’re going to have to do something about Knocker,” said Teddy to Flabby who was smiling, Knocker always made him smile. “What like promote him?” asked Flabby and Teddy snorted in disgust and disbelief. He’d heard of Knocker’s attempt at Families Officer, as subtle as a kick in the nuts were the more polite comparisons doing the rounds. “Right listen in” said Teddy and everybody ignored him so he repeated it, only louder and everybody stared his way, not doing an impression of him staring but looked in his general direction. “This is what happened THIS end” started Teddy and the rest settled down for a long story.
Chapter Six
Teddy was sat inside at the ranch and Capt Belladonna just outside, smoking a small cigar. Lt Rattin was sat at the table opposite Teddy and the ranch was full of Argentinean Special Forces. In fact you couldn’t move for them and Teddy had drawn up a rota for the bathroom as the waiting time was almost half an hour and with the raid imminent, there were quite a few nervous pishes needing to be taken. Unfamiliar names like Gabriel Heinz or ‘57’ as he was nicknamed because he claimed to know that many ways of killing a man with his bare hands, he also liked a particular brand of tomato ketchup but that probably had nothing whatsoever to do with it. Hernia Crispo was another, a specialist in all things electronic but he had tried to mend the toaster and it was only sheer luck that the ranch hadn’t burned down. There wasn’t one without a droopy moustache but that was no surprise to Teddy.
They gathered round the kitchen table and the plans were laid on top. Capt Belladonna had wanted to add a conservatory to the ranch and the plans looked fine to Teddy but he did wonder at the timing, as there was a raid to be carried out, a couple of raids in fact. Teddy did say something when the subject got to soft furnishings. “For fcuk’s sake!” he said after bringing the meeting back on track. The team was to be split, Capt Belladonna was to take the web hosting company along with Crispo and Teddy and Lt Rattin with Heinz, the warehouse and distribution centre for the website. The raids were to be coordinated to make sure one couldn’t warn the other so timing was important here. Things were discussed but the subject still got back to soft furnishings and with a heated discussion on whether Austrian or Venetian blinds should be used, Teddy stepped outside for a breath of air and hopefully to regain his sanity. He stuck his head in the door, ignored the pain as it was shut but no serious damage done, so he opened it, and went back inside. There was a heated discussion about throw cushions so in despair, he headed back out side and swore.
The raid was due to go off in roughly an hour and the transport was already here. Two trucks had been booked and two had arrived driven by the usual Argentinean maniacs. Capt Belladonna jumped in the passenger side of the first truck and Crispo jumped the back of the truck along with four others. They were armed and they looked as though they meant business. There had been a horribly tedious attempt to synchronize watches but since some weren’t wearing watches and Teddy had forgotten the instructions for his and couldn’t get it out of the tide table for Minehead, they decided to use radios. Teddy and Lt Rattin fought for the passenger seat of the other truck. Teddy did have rank on his side but Lt Rattin was not bowing down and while they fought, Heinz jumped in, wound up the window and locked the door. So, the still scuffling pair had to climb in the back along with another four heavily armed guys that don’t really feature that much in the action, so I couldn’t be arrsed to name them.
Capt Belladonna sat in the truck outside the office of the
media company and those in the back were trying to look as inconspicuous as
possible. The driver was away trying to get some change as they parked next to
a parking meter and Capt Belladonna had forgotten his fake disabled badge. He
looked at his watch and noted the time, ten more minutes, the others should be
in place, and then they could go. He hoped that nobody had sussed them as they
usually would be in disguise or holed up in a building across the road but time
was of the essence. He didn’t know what that meant but just followed orders and
the order to hit had come down right from the top. Chavez and Chavez had
ruffled a few feathers and the sooner they were taken out, the better for
So ten minutes were up and Capt Belladonna radioed Teddy and gave the word. He waited for acknowledgement and they were off. The six of them walked into the building and asked the security guard for the media company. “Fourth floor gentlemen, would you mind signing in?” replied the security guard. “I’ll ring up ahead so they know you’re coming” was the last words he spoke as he found various automatic weapons pointing at him. He was led away and deposited in a broom cupboard that fortunately didn’t have a phone and the rest made their way to the fourth floor. The lift ding-donged as the doors opened and the muzak was finally silent. It had been a terrifying ordeal, Agadoo by Black Lace but it was over now. Crispo let off a couple of rounds to warn those in the media company but also to kill the loudspeaker in the lift.
People were running around like headless chickens but obviously without feathers so not really like headless chickens at all. A cooperative employee of the media company showed them to the server room and pointed out Chavez’s server. The rest of the team rounded up the staff that while being paid by Chavez, weren’t really a threat to neither man nor beast. Nor Argentinean Special Forces. Crispo was on a terminal trying to shut the whole thing down but it was so well protected that he was having real problems. Capt Belladonna being a practical man just followed the mains lead and flicked the switch and the server lights dimmed and then died. “That’s got that then” he said but even as he spoke the lights shone again and just as brightly. “UPS” said Crispo and Capt Belladonna looked around expecting a delivery as most of his DVDs came from Amazonian courtesy of UPS. “The backup power supply” explained Crispo and Capt Belladonna finally twigged. He entered the next room and there were the UPS’s. He knew they were UPS’s as they had UPS stamped all over them. He raised his machine pistol and let go a few rounds into the first one and this UPS sort of fizzed and banged but then fell silent. He repeated this on the other UPS’s and the room was finally silent though it really stank of fried UPS’s. “Next time, I’ll wear a respirator,” he said to himself and walked back into the server room where not one single solitary light was visible. “Job, jobbed,” he said in Spanish and went to have a few words with the staff while he waited for Teddy to radio in.
At the warehouse, Teddy sat in the back of the truck, just round the corner from the distribution warehouse. Heinz was still in the passenger seat and Teddy was still totally pished off with him. “Fcuking Argies” he said to himself as he was in the minority here and they were supposed to working together. The radio screeched and he heard Capt Belladonna giving the ‘go’. He acknowledged and they were off. The four who still aren’t going to be named were to deal with the staff on the ground floor while Teddy, Lt Rattin and Heinz were to deal with the offices upstairs. They rushed in and a strange looking person jumped out from one of the aisles. Heinz clubbed him viciously round the head and he fell like a stone. Another less strange looking man jumped out of an opposite aisle but his hands were already above his head. “What you do, huh?” asked the man and it really was absolutely fcuk all to do with him but Teddy did answer, “We’re here to settle up with that scumbag Chavez”. “But he’s no here” replied the man and Teddy thought to himself “Why is this starting to get so fcuking difficult?” “You just wasted the man from Del Monte” went on the man and fell to the floor seconds later as Lt Rattin clubbed him round the head as well. “Fcuk ‘im and ‘im” said Teddy and headed for the offices.
They mounted the steps two at a time, which did make Heinz feel a little left out but he did get over it. Teddy stopped at the top and peered down the corridor and he was just starting down the corridor when an office door flew open and Teddy saw a machine pistol facing his way. He dropped to the ground like a stone and round after round flew over his head. Lying on the ground, he let off a couple of rounds and he was relieved to see at least one hit whoever was firing on the wrist. The machine pistol dropped to the ground and Teddy dropped even further if that was possible as Heinz threw a grenade which considering the tight angle bounced into the room and exploded. It was only a stun grenade but Teddy was suitably stunned. Recovering his hearing and smoothing his hair, which had been blown up by the grenade, Teddy rolled into the doorway, ready to waste anybody or anything that moved but the room was empty except for a prostrate body on the floor. Teddy kicked the body between the legs and heard a grunt so let off a couple of rounds into the back of the body, which was now even more prostrate if that was possible. He rolled the body over, being very careful in case ‘our friend’ had a grenade but he was empty handed and now very much dead.
The mop up operation was in full swing as forces special or
otherwise helped themselves to whatever they fancied. Some even was bagged up
for any future trial but Lt Rattin doubted if this would ever happen. Chavez
was a broken man and despite invading their country, he doubted if it would
ever come to trial. “Probably just a bullet in the back of the head when he
least expects it” was his guess at what might happen. Teddy didn’t care; it
wasn’t his problem or wouldn’t be for much longer. The stability of
The whole team were back in
Capt Belladonna, Lt Rattin, Heinz and Crispo were all there to say goodbye to our illustrious team and even Knocker was moved. He was actually moved because he was occupying three seats and his luggage another two and when asked to give up his seat had told all and sundry to “Fcuk off!” “Only fcuking nuns, not real women” was his unsympathetic reply to a request from an official and the wrestling match with the Mother Superior really didn’t help. “Flabby, we’re really going to have to do something about Knocker,” Teddy told Flabby and for once Flabby agreed and seriously hoped that there was another job soon. “Ask the author,” suggested Danny Boy knowing just how to keep an author happy. “Yer, go on ask him” repeated Nige, eager to be part of the next story. “Hey, fcuk face,” said Knocker trying to attract my attention. “When’s the next story then dog’s bollox? He asked me toning it down just a bit. “Yes please, when’s the next one?” asked Flabby, a bit grovelly but eager to be included. “And no fcuking suits in the next one” shouted Knocker, not necessary as I can write him perfectly well without shouting. Knocker glared at Teddy and they had already guessed whom he had meant. “Soon, he said,” stated Flabby and he was dead right. Soon.
They sat on the plane silently as an actor’s voice described
what happened after their successful jobs. They were talking but the sound was
right down, otherwise you wouldn’t hear the actor. The camera panned left as
Knocker was scratching himself. This was the
And so the snotty boring voiced actor droned on. ‘I can’t
tell you about what happened to Emilio Chavez as that would ruin it for the
sequel and we wouldn’t want that, Ha-Ha,’ the actor laughed there but nobody
and I mean nobody else did. ‘The stability of
‘The youth of the UK had to mend their ways, in fact they had to mend their hooded tops as they eventually wore out and a period of boring normality entered the lives of the youth of today or today as it was when it was written. They looked forward to many happy well dressed tomorrows, tomorrows being the day after the day the youth of today called today’ the actor continued and at the cinema the only ones there were the cleaners and they’d heard it all before. ‘The SAS continues to this day and they have taken part in many other successful operations’ all of a sudden you could hear Knocker talking and he was swearing the SAS Oath but on second thoughts and listening more carefully, he was just swearing. The sound quickly faded and the title music started, Agadoo by Black Lace. The camera quickly cut to titles as Knocker had a finger sticking up and not up his nose this time.
THE END