Desert Form

Sandman had run out of toilet paper. He sat there cursing then
yelled at a flunky to rush off and get him another bog roll. After a
while, the flunky came back with a newspaper.

"I cannot wipe my bum on this," Sandman said. "Wait, there is a big
picture of the Satan of All Evil on page two, hmmm, I shall wipe the
smile off his face."

He rumbled down the imperial corridor to the Mother of All Meeting
Rooms where several advisors wearing green tunics and 96 medals between
them were sitting playing Monopoly.

Sandman took his place at the head of the table, then reached across to
the bank and took another ?3,000 from it. One advisor protested so
Sandman had him thrown in jail. He threw a double and landed on
Mayfair. He looked hard at the fat advisor sitting next to him, who
blanched and began to shake. The advisor had three hotels on Mayfair.
Sandman looked at the advisor and shook his head.

"The state seizes Mayfair, all rent is forfeit," Sandman said, reaching
across and taking Park Lane and Mayfair.

A while later after three more advisors had been jailed for daring to
argue and one because Sandman noticed that the advisor hadn't shaved
properly that morning, he went for a walk in the Mother Of All
Gardens.

In the distance he could hear the anti aircraft guns going off,
overhead a flight of elderly Dakotas winged over dropping leaflets. One
leaflet landed on his head, which he grabbed and then glanced at.

It was a fair likeness but his moustache had been recently trimmed so
they were using an out of date photograph. At the palace gates there
was a reporter in a pair of huge flares, sandals and a t shirt with the
word PEACE on it. Saddam had him arrested - he hated people who wore
flares even more than the fact that the reporter was an infidel.

He returned to the Mother Of All Palaces and had a big bowl of soup. A
few minutes later a guard marched in a man wearing a green velvet suit
and a pair of cuban heeled shoes.

"Who are you?" Sandman asked. "And where did you buy that suit? I like
it."

"Camden, matey," the man said taking off his glasses and putting them
on again. He turned to someone outside Sandman's office. "Oi, Nigel,
have you got my bag of tricks?"

A man with blonde wavy hair lugged in a bag and dropped it at the first
man's feet.

"'Ere you go Charlie, it's all there."

"Now, are you sure? I don't want to find you been nicking again."

"Honest, Charlie, it's all there. I aint taken nothing."

"Very well then. Go back to the mini and make sure the girls are okay.
And make bloody sure that Trisha doesn't open the bubbly before I get
back."

"All right, Charlie."

Sandman pulled a face. "Bubbly? You have brought champagne into the
most sacred of places?"

"Now, look, matey, what I do is my business. What you do is yours. I
have a business proposition for you."

"You have?"

"Yes."

"Well, let's hear it?"

"It's all in the bag, Sandman. Have a look."

Charlie picked up the bag and dropped on the desk in front of Sandman.
Charlie felt inside the bag then smiled. Then he ran.

Sandman looked inside the bag. There was a packet of cornflakes with
some wires leading to a cheap alarm clock.

Outside Charlie jumped in the mini which then zoomed off as fast as
possible.

"Did you do it, Charlie?"

"Yes, Nigel, I certainly did."

A moment later the Mother Of All Palaces blew up in a huge
explosion.

Charlie looked sharply at Nigel.

"You were only meant to blow bloody Sandman up, not the palace."

"Sorry, Charlie."

"Well, don't let it happen again."