The despair Of The British nation.

Saturday, 11 April 2009

An Unhappy Easter Bunny!


Seen dashing to his Bunker.



Down the dimly lit corridor, deep underground, a queue of pale faced individuals snaked. At the head of this line was a group gathered by the massive steel door, barely ajar. A dishevelled, tramp like figure, just arrived by private jet from the Canaries, was stuffing a large sheaf of email hard copy down the rear of his string tied, dirty chinos. Just ahead of him, seated on the only chair, a fat, Bunteresque figure was weeping uncontrollably. Deep, sharp intakes of breath barely stopped the sobbing.

The scene now moves to the interior of this cavernous bunker. Again it is only just possible to make out shapes , articles and furniture, so low is the illumination. Just by the door is a massive pile of pristine, newly ironed newspapers. Every one is turned so that the sports pages only are visible. Two figures are also by the door. One is dressed in ermine, the now mandatory snakeskin shoes peeking from under the hem of the finery. The other is wearing a deer-storker style outfit, copying his long gone friend, Holmes. This latter figure whispers to the nobleman, "Not seen the papers, then?" A hiss is all the reply.

Opposite them is the large desk that occupies this dungeon like room. The figure seated on the floor, is leaning on a corner of the oak side of the furniture. Scattered around him are broken, tiny figures. Animals and farm workers all disfigured, limbs and heads twisted off. A rocking horse is also lying on its side, one flank smashed away, the rails split and a terrible stench can be smelt from the material daubed around the broken steed. The Victorian dressed man whispers, "Did he not even bother going to Chequers for Hols?" Again a hiss is his only answer. Now the half naked, terry towelled creature slowly hauls himself upright. It speaks, slowly, measuredly but with menace. "The stupid, fat, ugly porker got bloody well caught. I told the twat to never use this bloody e-e-e-e-e-e-e m-m-m-ail-l-l new fangled malarkey" he stammered. "Is that fucking tramp outside?" he queried. "Yessssss" hissed the noble Lord. Before he could be stopped the weird creature rushed to the steel door, dragged the heavy structure open and burst into the corridor. The now packed hallway let out a collective gasp. Suddenly the rumours, innuendo, gossip and smears were made real in front of their eyes. As they watched in horror the alien apparition delved into a voluminous flap in the nappy and with a blood curdling scream began hurling missiles through the air. People were struck and fell all around. The horror that was once their great leader danced up and down the passageway stamping and kicking everyone before him. With an awful earsplitting scream it disappeared up the stairway towards the first floor. From the bunker dashed the two men demanding which way the bouncy baby had gone. "He's escaped" came the cry. "Oh my God" said the Victorian, "What's to be done?". "Nothing," the other spat, "I really think this may be the end"

2 comments:

dickiebo said...

Nice one!

Oldrightie said...

Thank you! It is a good Easter. I wonder if it will get even better?