Larry and Mick and the Eighth Instalment in the Story of the Coleslaw Catastrophe

 

“And now for a special announcement by the President of the United States of America... Mr Tonald Drump.”

 

“Turn it over,” said Larry.

 

“I can’t,” said Mick.

 

“Is that because it is an emergency broadcast and therefore on every channel?”

 

“No, the remote’s broken.”

 

“Oh fiddle faddle.”

 

“We may as well hear what he has to say then.”

 

“Yes we may.”

 

The stupid-haired burk said:

 

“Citizens of the free world...”

 

“Oh here we go...” murmured Larry and Mick (and a billion or so others, in different languages across the world).

 

“We are,” continued the prat on the podium, “facing the biggest threat our great nation has ever faced.”

 

“You don’t say,” said Larry.

 

“He did actually,” said Mick.

 

“Many,” said the twonk on TV, “have already succumbed to this Communist incursion.”

 

“What is he on?,” said Larry.

 

“A podium,” said Mick.

 

“But I propose a solution!”

 

“I wonder what that could be?,” said no one in the world.

 

“I propose that we build a wall!”

 

The global sigh that followed caused tsunamis, earthquakes and lots of people to fall over.

 

“But who will pay for the wall?,” said someone in the audience.

 

“The coleslaw beasts themselves!,” said the lame-brained Leader of the Free World.

 

“I need tea,” said Larry.

 

“I’ll get the Hobnobs,” said Mick.

 

Larry and Mick had tea and biscuits (specifically Hobnobs).

 

...

 

“What are we going to do about the broken remote, Mick?”

 

“I think it just needs new batteries.”

 

“What are we going to do about the fact that we only have plain Hobnobs, Mick?”

 

“I’ll pop to the shops later.”

 

“What are we going to do about the coleslaw beasts, Mick?”

 

“Jiggered if I know.”

 

“What are we going to do about Tonald Drump, Mick?”

 

“Now there I have a plan.”

 

...

 

In the grand old literary tradition of Show Don’t Tell, I shall not expound herewith the plan of Mick, but rather I invite you to read on and, through the actions described, learn of its specificities as it unfolds. Thus...

 

“Assassinate!,” said Larry. “Kill! Murderize!”

 

“Nah, I think I’ll just sneak past him,” said Mick. He then paused the game, put down his PlayStation controller and had a sip of tea.

 

“So when are we going for the president, Mick?”

 

“‘Going for’? I would never be so vulgar as to suggest we are to be ‘going for’ him.”

 

“What then?”

 

“We are merely to give him a nudge, master Larry.”

 

“A nudge?”

 

“A biff on the bott. A poke in the posterior.”

 

“I’d rather not do any posterior poking, Mick.”

 

“Tiz but a figure of speech, Larry.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Mick nibbled on a biccy.

 

“So when are we going to do this ‘posterior poking,’ Mick?”

 

“All in good time, young Padawan. All in good time.”

 

Larry examined his nails.

 

“Now?,” said he.

 

“In a minute,” said Mick.

 

Larry picked a bit of old pea skin from between his teeth.

 

“Now?,” said he.

 

“Put on your parka, young Lazza!,” said Mick. “It’s time to poke us a POTUS posterior!”

 

“I just need a wee.”

 

...

 

“Is that Tonald Drump?”

 

“It might be. And who the heck are you?”

 

“You don’t know me. But I know you.”

 

“I should hope so. I’m the President of the U.S.-fucking-A.”

 

“So you are Tonald Drump.”

 

“Oh tarnation...”

 

“Are you ready to listen to what I have to say?”

 

“I might as well, seeing as how you’ve somehow got through to the most secure phone line on Earth.”

 

“Good. Now’s here’s the deal...”

 

“Who said I was making any kind of a goddamned deal?”

 

“You said you’d listen.”

 

“Continue...”

 

“Firstly, can we cut out the vulgarity?”

 

“I’m the leader of the free world. I can say whatever the f-”

 

“But then we’d have to raise the rating to a ‘15’.”

 

“Okay, whatever, carry on...”

 

“Secondly... about this wall...”

 

“The one to keep out the coleslaw beasts?”

 

“The very same.”

 

“What about it?”

 

“What’s the point?”

 

“Are you stupid? It’s to keep out the...”

 

“You do realise that the coleslaw beasts are already in your so-called ‘fine nation’?”

 

“Did you just interrupt me?!”

 

“I did, sir.”

 

“I’ll have you shot for that, you goddamned English tea-swilling, pasty-munching, sheep f-”

 

“Careful, Mr Drump.”

 

“Get to the point, limey!”

 

“So if you build a wall... won’t you just keep in the coleslaw beasts that are already there?”

 

“I... well... uh...”

 

“Time for Plan B, I think, Mr President.”

 

The phone went dead.

 

...

 

“Tiz done, friend Larry.”

 

“Why did you tell me to put my parka on, friend Mick?”

 

“I didn’t think you would actually put your parka on.”

 

“Oh you...”

 

Larry and Mick resumed their mundane existences.

 

For now...

 

[ well what did you expect? ]