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- sport - Getting home (after watching a bloody monkey skip across the road merrily on my way to university - I would have taken photographic evidence, but it disappeared into the void deck as I fumbled for my phone), I was greeted by this: ![]() Me: What the holy beep are you two doing?! Mr. Ham: I got fed up after realising that I was not even the most famous hamster in this little island - some two-bit charlatan has gotten over seven million Youtube views for playing dead, a trick I have been diligently slaving away at for months. Well, I'm not one to mope, so I figured if the general public likes hams n' guns, that's what I'm very well going to give them! Mr. Robo: Well, the getup does look kind of cool. Me: *reviewing the video* He does play dead with nous - your version discomfitingly resembles an exceedingly loud albatross crossed with a melodramatic dying swan suffering a seizure while having its feathers plucked. Mr. Ham: But that's how they do it in football! Me: ... Mr. Ham: And behold my eye for detail - I even got a replica neuralyzer! *flashes tubular object* Mr. Robo: Ahhh! I'm blinded! Mr. Ham: Hmm? That wasn't what my supplier told me would happen... *flicks it on again* Gah! Everything's white! And The Challengers Are *Some anxious hours later* Mr. Robo: Whew, I can see again! Me: That'll teach you two not to play around with repurposed lasers. Eh, isn't that Monsieur Jambon? Monsieur Jambon: Oui. I have heard from my colleague Herr Ahm that you are unwilling to pay for the both of us, for presentation of the due political analysis as well as the ongoing Euro 2012, for which creatures with far more questionable track records have been making a killing. Ordinarily, professionals of our status would have our receptionists hang up on you with dignity affronted, but in view of our longstanding commercial relationship, as well as out of the goodness of our little hearts, we will deign to proffer both in a single compact package, for the delight of your not-very-sophisticated readers. Merci:
Monsieur Jambon: And that's not all, have I an introductionary bonus deal for you! I take it you are aware of the practice of supreme strategists like, say, Zhuge Liang preparing secret letters with instructions for use in time of crisis? Me: Uh huh. One step above plain sealed orders. Monsieur Jambon: As a certified Master Political Analyst, I have created a half-metre high stack of such letters of wisdom, as might be employed by The Team In White, covering every eventuality that might befall your company... I mean, country. Me: Looks intimidating. Mind if I try a few? Monsieur Jambon: Be my guest. Me: *selects envelope at random* Ok, I've got "Growth rate slowing". Let's see what the strategy is... "Import more people". Well, that sounds plausible. Monsieur Jambon: Do go on. Me: "Low birth rates", here goes... "Import more people" "Losing popular support" - "Import more people" "Falling competitiveness" - "Import more people" "Indistinct national identity"... hey, this one's blank! Is there some profound hidden meaning behind the lack of words? Monsieur Jambon: Let me see. *grabs blank piece of paper* Nope, I think the photocopier just ran out of toner. Me: ...
Me: I still think England can nick it against Italy later. Monsieur Jambon: And you call me unrealistic?! Next: Quick Week
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