hello................

[EddyH]

wheee lots of people again. and here i thought the island was
abandoned.

<gently sets flying wing jet scooter down on the edge of the beach,
pulls out large insect gun from it's holster>

right. who wants some?

--(ex?) Sherriff Eddy, fresh from a long anhd unintentional vacation
in the poisonous wasteland

[cliff86]

eddy_...@yahoo.com (EddyH) wrote in message news:<333c1024.02061...@posting.google.com>...

> --(ex?) Sherriff Eddy, fresh from a long anhd unintentional vacation
> in the poisonous wasteland

Beware of flying figs.

I prefer to hit them with a tennis racket
to make them go away.

If you hear quacking like that of a duck
or goose, it's probably a flying fig. The
telltale signs of a flying fig are:
-pi symbol on front
-feathered wings
-large, fig-shaped
-really annoying

AGENT-X
--
You have been warned.

[Luk]

EddyH wrote:

So Eddy, how was your year at school?

Good you're back as the Governor's been a bit
mettlesome of late. You presence often seems
to have a calming effect, at least when you aren't
out driving your car.

Did you make it to Iceland this year or some
equally exotic locale?

What's your current take on the world situation?
Not much news from the ships these days.
Egg production is up.

Luk

[cliff86]

Luk <lukn...@bellsouth.net> wrote in message news:<3D0E5BCF...@bellsouth.net>...

> Good you're back as the Governor's been a bit
> mettlesome of late.

Explain.

> Luk

AGENT-X

[tahr...@gmail.com]

"They" took me... the last of the old resistance force... put me in something akin to a witness protection program. Changed my clothes, my hair, my face. I wasn't nothin' but tired. Then they changed my name. The people wouldn't accept a saviour with the name of history's greatest monster, they said.

My first choice was "Thatcher", but that was deemed unacceptable as well. So with some twiddling of the letters, tahrey was born.

But it wasn't enough.

I changed my shoes, I changed my hair, I changed my pants, I changed my glasses, I changed my ... girl
I changed my car, I changed my house, but I haven't changed my job
I changed my friends, I changed my wall, my town, my number!
I never get satisfied, I'll never get satisfied...

Well some of that may be a lie. The hair is as bad as ever. I don't wear glasses any more. There's no girl to change. And though my job has been stable for five years now, I had many along the way, as well as quite some time spent at university and then a couple of vocational colleges. But it was too good an opportunity to quote some lyrics to pass up.

But, I outlived most of the Cavid challengers. I laid low, stayed off the radar, and one by one their short lives came to a close and my existence passed first into memory, then administrative archive, then barely remembered legend.

The only "local" threat now is a nearby friend's lodger who has been compromised by a couple of members of the GP underground, one with quite obvious battle scars that he is hypnotised into ignoring. A couple more distant friends from the uni days have also fallen prey to a northern cadre, but the general level of infestation is at a comfortably low level compared to times past.

My abilities are not what they once were. The jet wing has been exhanged for a more mundane wheeled scooter. The insect gun had to be handed in at an amnesty and I've found it difficult to find a way to qualify for a shotgun license (damn those furry brutes and the tendrils they've worked into our government!). I know someone with a good range of BB guns and decorative swords, but their stopping and slicing power is rather limited and he's a half hour's drive away. My father and stepmother have fled the country, so I'm short of safehouses to the east without having to brave the wilds of Lincolnshire. It is therefore fortunate that we live in calmer times.

That doesn't necessarily mean the threat has abated, however. It may just be that our foes have found more subtle means of control and conquest. Just look at David Cameron. Like, REALLY look at him.

He's clearly an advanced, but still slightly "uncanny" GP-piloted, human-shaped mobile frame. Osbourne, Gove and Balls, too. It's not a universal thing. Pickles is still human, but an obvious plant - the name alone should be a giveaway - whose main real role is to smuggle produce to the frame pilots on a regular basis, lest someone notice how they only ever seem to eat salad (in reality, food that enters the frame's mouth is used as fuel for its motors, using a decomposing biogas generator and fuel-cell exhange membrane). The Lib Dem's rise in popularity took the conspirators by surprise, and they're all actually human ... but it doesn't matter. Their original noble intentions have been thoroughly demeaned by a combination of sidelining and subjugation, and by this point they're simply coming along for the ride. The comedown they'll suffer when the glamour wears off is going to be truly harsh.

And it's not just here in the UK. Look at Obama, and indeed at Berlusconi. They even LOOK somewhat rodential. The GPs are starting to take the mickey somewhat with their designs.

With such corruption at the very highest levels, it's unsurprising that they no longer feel that they have to take the planet by force. A gentle manipulation here and there, unbalancing societies, forcing the masses onto the breadline where they're too concerned with everyday survival to involve themselves in the bigger political picture... obviously, some of the conspirators have read Orwell, and learned themselves a book right smart-like.

It seems we may have some potential allies in North Korea, Syria, Iran, etc, who are the last, ironic bastions of human sanity amongst the general piggy hegemony. Unfortunately, the stress of it all has driven the leaders of these already questionable regimes quite loopy, and public association with them could be quite risky. A more private intercourse could be the answer, so long as we can talk them round to not just nuking everything within a couple thousand miles as a "pre-emptive, prophylactic" measure to prevent a potential onslaught, or continually spouting off about the "infidels" (I think something got lost in translation there). Maybe if they would just come clean about why they feel it necessary to massacre a load of their own (compromised) countrymen, we would see some genuine progress and begin to turn the tables.

Gentlewomen and sort-of-gentlemen, I must away.

But be not afraid, you have my Axe. Or "Lynx", as we call it on this side of the pond. The little buggers hate the smell, can't stand it when it gets in their eyes, and setting light to a stream of the stuff coming out of a can is a quite effective last line of defence. The tyres on my car are quite wide and have good tread, too, should we need to squash a batallion of militarised GPs all lined up in marching order.

Keep the foil helmets and earplugs in place!
Chin chin!

"tahrey"
(you know my "real" name ... but please don't make it obvious!)