Category Archives: Mark

8.4 Time Out

17 Saturday Apr 2010

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GO’s painting of Sun Mountain. Anyone who thinks its bullshit doesn’t know what they are talking about

We arrive at the snowfields bio after an overnight ride in the Nimmow. The port is absolutely stunning. A wide open deck that leads to a number of small chalets and a restaurant/café and a handful of shops. We are really spoiled. A female crew member approaches “Hi, I’m Vivienne, I will be looking after you while you stay here at Sun Mountain”. Well there’s not much sun at the moment, it’s cold and light snow is falling. Luckily the G. King nanobot clothing I’m wearing adjusts to keep me warm but my face is as cold as a Trotters Ale at the Pigs Arms.

Vivienne leads us to one of the chalets and like everything on the S.S. Julian II it’s all high quality and incredibly comfortable. GO, the artist droid, appears in his overalls with some brushes, rollers and a tin of paint. “GO” I ask “I thought when you said you wanted to paint the mountain that you meant a portrait?” “Ha, ha Sandy, you joker, I’m just doing some touch up work in one of the chalets first then in the morning I will head up the mountain to do some painting” replies GO. Whew, thought something weird was happening as in space nothing ceases to amaze me.

Belinda and I head for the restaurant. A jazz band is playing called the Gregor Stonach Trio and they are doing some Chick Chorea, great stuff. Vivienne serves us a fillet steak with sautéed mushrooms and fried potato, washed down with a Redman’s Cabernet Sauvignon, beautiful, it doesn’t get any better that this.

Next morning Belinda heads off to the snow fields to ski while I wander around the small village looking at antiques and art galleries when Helvi approaches. “Sandy, come with me, I need to show you something” Helvi states. Now if Helvi asks you to do something you do it, I’ve seen her in full battle mode and it’s both magnificent and scary. “Sure Helvi, what’s up?” I ask with an air of uncomfortableness “Come into the meeting room and I’ll explain” advises Helvi.

We enter the meeting room and Helvi and I sit at the table. Out of her right eye she beams a picture on the wall. Is a giant golden ball and its travelling very fast through space. “What’s that?” I enquire. “This is how the S.S. Julian is seen by other space travellers. The golden sheen is the force field and see in the centre you can see the body of the ship with its ring of bios.” Informs Helvi. Yes, I can see the ship but it looks like a giant penis. “Yes” says Helvi “Exactly”. Zark now she’s a mind reader, better keep it clean. “So Helvi is that what you wanted to show me?” I ask and as usual I won’t want to hear the answer. “Wait, there’s more” says Helvi. Oh, zark, not the steak knives I think to myself. Helvi continues “Sandy do you believe in BULLSHIT?” asks Helvi. “But Helvi bullshit is bullshit, you know crap, lies, made up stuff” I reply innocently. “No Sandy BULLSHIT stands for Binary Unit Locater Link Shifting Heuristically in Time”. Well zark me, space an acronyms must go hand in hand. “Never heard that bullshit before Helvi?” I answer as best as possible under the circumstances. “See Sandy, when we return to Earth you will arrive just days after you left using BULLSHIT” relates Helvi. “So Helvi are you telling me this whole thing is based around BULLSHIT?” “Exactly Sandy, egg zacally……”

8.3 It’s Bean a Flong Time Coming

04 Sunday Apr 2010

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Unbeknown to most, Methane rules the universe

So, here we are, out in deep space. We have left the Milky Way and are on our way to Andromeda, to a planet called Missen. Belinda and I spent last night in the Cruel Room getting acquainted with our destination. For those of you new to The Father O’Way Chronicles, the Cruel Room resides in the Manor. When you sit on the chairs the walls, floors and ceilings disappear and the computer simulates the surrounding space outside the ship so you feel as though you are sitting on the ships hull. At first it’s spooky but you get used to it and it becomes fun.

Our contacts on Missen are Hardy Cocksure and his long time girlfriend Pussy Couscous. Hardy and Pussy run a cricket competition on the island of Flong which is in the southern hemisphere of Missen. Rumour has it that the island is called Flong because it’s long and narrow and the first people to arrive, got off the boat and mumbled “This is a effing long island” hence Flong however another theory has been postulated that Flong is the sound of a partly decomposed bean hitting porcelain.

I call Neville, the navcom, to make sure he knows where he is going “Neville respond” I say authoritatively into the intercom. “Neville here Lord Climate” says Neville. “Neville, do you want a route?” I ask casually. “I beg your pardon” replies an indignant navcom, “Did you say a root?” “Yes Neville, a route” I reply in rather annoyed tone, feeling that this conversation is going nowhere. “Well Sandy, I mean, I hardly know you plus this man on man thing is not really for me”. Oh, for zark sake, has this navcom got the stupid gene or what? “No, not a root as in having sex with, a route as in, you know, directions?” I assert. “Sorry Sandy but I’m blushing at the moment and no I don’t want a ro.., er, directions” Gees, that’s all I need, a navcom that doesn’t have a body who blushes, space, never ceases to amaze.

It will take weeks to get to Missen so Belinda and I head off to the snowfield for a holiday. Jilligan picks us up from the river port in the S.S. Nimmow. GO, the artist droid,  comes along as he wants to paint some pictures of the mountain range and Helvi, well, she’s our body guard. It’s a cold morning in the bio and mist is rising off the river as we head upstream. The river generates the electricity to run the ship so once it starts flowing the ship remains powered indefinitely.

After a scrumptious breakfast on the deck we head inside as we approach one of the tubes. After last time I don’t feel like being knocked unconscious. The tubes are made of a clear material and connect the bios together. The new Nimmow is bigger and more streamlined and seems more powerful. “This seems faster Jilligan, has it got a new motor?” I ask semi-interestedly. “Certainly has” says Jilligan “Come below and I’ll show it to you” Oh shit, why does everyone assume that just because you are a bloke that you will be interested in motors? “This is called the BEAN engine Sandy, beautiful hey?” Well no, only to the mentally challenged, which clearly Jilligan meets the essential criteria and another zarking acronym. Putting on my watching-paint-dry voice I ask the obvious “BEAN Jilligan, what’s that mean?” “Well Sandy” launches Jilligan, just like a little school kid that gets one to many Easter eggs “BEAN stands for Bean Emissions Accelerator Nexus. See you put a 420 can of Heinz Baked Beans in Tomato Sauce in here, then super bugs from the MBL break the beans down, the gas is then connected in a series to the turbine which then blows it out the back passage” grins Jilligan, sort of mocking but not quite. Hmmm, blowing gas out the back passage after digesting beans, somehow I know what the designer was thinking.  “MBL, now hang on we are not letting baseball take over in this book old chum” I state “No Sandy, MBL stands for Mythical Biological Laboratory”. Complex fiction indeed.

8.2 Pigs In Space

28 Sunday Mar 2010

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Warning: This picture has been Warrigalised

Sandy here. Had a strange dream last night. Belinda and I had some curried scallop pies washed down with some creamy apple cider so I think that’s what brought it on. Yes, well, I dreamt I was in a canoe on a lake in Africa with my mate Evil Car Knee Ville. Knee Ville and I were fishing. Anyway we started drinking beer, eating boiled eggs and smoking this strange substance from a pipe. So I cast out and along comes this magnificent looking fish and the fish says “Hey mate, got anything to eat, I’m hungry?” “I’ve got some bait if your interested, fish are supposed to love it” I reply in a casual semi-interested sort of tone. “Hmmm” says the fish “is there a catch, no pun intended?” “Well yes” I reply rather hesitantly  “See I attach the bait to this hook. When you bite it the hook pierces your palate causing terrible pain and suffering. Then we haul you ashore, cut you up into little pieces, pan fry and eat you along with chips and lemon juice and salt.” “I don’t think I like that idea much” says the fish and leaves. “Hey Knee Ville , did you see that fish I almost caught?” “Sandy, that’s the oldest line in the book and by the way that’s Hemingway with one M” says Knee Ville. Then I wake up thinking about baked beans on toast, weird.

Helvi hasn’t been able to establish eye contact with me since my body altered however she is doing her best to help us understand the morphing process that has taken place. The village bio is much bigger as a garrison has been added and so an auto-pilot electric car is needed to get me to the Bats Droppings for a few Trotters, I mean you wouldn’t what to drink and drive would you, I mean that would be really bad and only evil dickheads would do that. The farm bio is now run by Mr and Mrs Douglas with their farm hand Eb. We also have a snowfield/chalet bio for holidays, a tropical island bio for Jilligan, who by the way, lives out there alone now the Kipper was killed. We now also have an outback station bio. The pics on the computer of it look great.

I ring Gordon, you know Gordon O’Donnell the creator of the universe. Gordon currently on Earth in the Pigs Arms drinking Trotters Ale all day every day as he does. “Gordon, Sandy here how the zark are you?” I press knowing it’s always good to get on the front foot with Gordon. “Bloody good mate, it’s all good” answers Gordon in an unusually good Australian accent “Now Sandy old boy” he continues “I believe you hit a POTHOLE, nasty things, will have to get onto the Council, anyway glad you rang mate, want you to head to Missen, the score in the first innings must be between 320 and 350, got that, it MUST be” asserts Gordon. “Gordon how can anyone head to missing?” I ask rather naively knowing I won’t like the answer. “No Missen, it’s a planet that orbits Capricorn in the Andromeda Galaxy, Neville will know the way, it’s only a couple of million light years away. You must get there before the rodent, you know he will zark the whole thing up, you know bribes, kids overboard. This is a very important part of my thesis.”

“On the subject of your thesis Gordon, what is it you are actually studying, I mean it’s not the cricket is it?” I barge in rather hot under the collar. “This is war Sandy” Gordon replies “And war is hell, and hell is beans Sandy, baked beans on toast. Forget this low glycemic index crap or the high fibre bullshit, this is about beans, baked beans and how they rule life the universe and everything” Gordon voice tapers to a final whisper, a man possessed by some demonic spirit or just really pissed on Trotters Ale, this has become scary stuff. “So why has the score in the first inning got to be between 320 and 350 Gordon?” I wade in foolishly. “Well Sandy, that’s the estimated number of beans in a 420 gram can of course!…..”

8.1 Sandy Gets a New Body

16 Tuesday Mar 2010

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TD Schnitzel’s work on rebuilding Sandy was a huge success and for the first few days it was all Sandy could do to tear himself away from the mirror. Belinda loved his new pectorals and thought the tat was sweet. When resting her head on Sandy’s ample new chest she imagined her fairy whispering in her ear.

Digital Muscles – Warrigal raises the Bar – Bel

The mood on the S.S. Julian is sombre. The Kipper was killed in the fighting with the ICCB troops on Zog. This is our first loss and I’m finding it rather difficult to come to terms with the whole thing. We have just held the funeral service for the Kipper and placed him in a can, just like all good Kippers like to be. Dave does a rendition of Don McLean’s Vincent and Jilligan places the Kipper’s favourite hat on top of the can. We all head to the Bats Droppings to have a few pints or so to mourn the loss of our crew member.

Henry, our navcom, informs me that we are being followed by an ICCB ship however it’s not a warship “Blow the zarking thing up” I call through the intercom. “Lord Climate, an ICCB representative wishes to beam aboard, it’s a Lord Algernon, the ICCB’s Business Relationships Manager” says Henry “Tell him to zark off, anyway what business to we have with those dickheads?” I reply in a rather frustrated tone. I’m tired, the gun battle was hard going however what was worse was I had to listen to some Beatles music, yyyyeeeeuck. It was good though watching those ICCB troops running for the hills trying to get there headsets off.

“Sandy” says Michael in his usual Welsh sing-song way “Why don’t we at least listen to what he has to say, could be entertaining.” “No not today, ain’t in the mood. Henry tell him to zark off and put the peddle to the metal and get the zark out of here” I state firmly into the intercom.

Suddenly the walls start to melt and the room seems to spin. Wow, this Trotter’s is strong stuff. Belinda and Helvi are sitting at the table, no the roof, no outside, no at the table, what is zarking going on? Just as that thought enters my head everything returns to normal, what ever that is. “Catherine” I bark into the intercom “what’s going on?” I demand. Silence. Catherine is the central computer and hasn’t responded something bad is happening. “Henry” I yell to the navcom “what’s going on dude?” More silence. Helvi touches my arm “Sandy I think we’ve hit a POTHOLE” Oh zarking hell, this place is mad. “A pothole Helvi, out here in space” I rant getting more nervous by the minute, “No not that sort of pothole. POTHOLE stands for Potential Other Time History OverLay Episode” A zarking acronym, boy when I get back to earth that Hung One On bloke is gunna get a beating. “Helvi, a what, please explain?” I ask pathetically, mentally drained and tired I wanna go home. “A POTHOLE occurs when an incident happens somewhere in the universe where there is more than one outcome. So something to do with Lord Algernon has changed. Maybe in another time history you actually met with him, in this one you don’t.”

I feel ill. The ship has changed, everything is bigger and there seem to be more crew. Funny thing is that I seem to be able to see much better like never before. Colours, clarity and at any distance. I glance at Belinda, her bust line is magnificent, bigger, bolder and superb. Something stands to attention in my jocks. I pull my shirt out of my trousers and take a quick look. Cowabunger! It’s huge. What in zark sake is going on? A pothole, did something else really happen, why am I thinking about baked beans on toast, very strange.

“Central computer respond” I ask “Central Computer responding Lord Climate” states the computer. “Why don’t you respond to Catherine?” “There is nothing in my memory banks that recognises that term sir” “Okay then, from now on you are Catherine, a cat loving IT guru with a feisty personality style, understood?” “Reprogramming” says the computer. “Navcom respond” I bark. “Navcom responding Lord Climate” “What is your model number?” I request “Ne.V.ILL.e” Hmmm, n e v i l l e, spells Neville, well sort of “Respond to Neville” I request. “Reprogramming to Neville. What personality would you like Lord Climate?” asks Neville. Well Henry was English so lets have a change “Sassy American with a liking for fishing and jazz” I inform. “Catherine ask the ship its name” “Yes Lord Climate” purrs Catherine.

“Sandy, you look different” says Belinda “You’ve lost your tummy and wow, you’ve got more muscles” Yes and you wait till later tonight to see what else is different “Lord Climate” interrupts Catherine, just when I was getting to the good bit, “The ship is called the S.S. Julian II……”

8.0 The Return of the Ball

10 Wednesday Mar 2010

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Have another go….

Genital Mischief by Warrigal

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm,nnnnaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh, whiz, bang, bang, tonk, tonk, tonk. “Nanobot 249 to Base, come in base” “Base receiving 249, what’s up?” ”Base this brain is a mess, are you sure the plan is right?” enquires 249. “Apparently this was a fully functional earth being at one stage. We have to repair the creature to the map from the last teleport and that’s what is says” says the Base supervisor “Okay then” says 249 “this earth place must be full of weirdos if this is a functional example, 249 out”.

*******

Zarking hell, what’s going on, last thing I can remember is a blinding bright light, lots of pain then blackness. Must have had one to many Trotter’s Ales. Shit, where the zark am I. It’s getting lighter, gee I’m in some sort of room but I’m in, well, like a clear coffin. I can see a sign on the door it says “Astrophysics 101”. Hmmm, isn’t that what Gordon is studying.

A man in a white lab coat approaches “Hi there” he says “I’m Professor T.D. Schnitzel however just call me TD” “Hi TD, I’ve heard about you from Gordon, where am I? What happened? Where’s Belinda?” I rattle off, confused and angry. “Now, now Sandy, don’t panic, Belinda’s fine. You have been transferred to our dimension and are on the planet Meup. We are reverse engineering your destruction and rebuilding you. It will take a few days. The ICCB Death Ball blew the S.S. Julian up destroying everything so we have to rebuild you. We have ordered you a new ship so when we send you back you’ll be able to go on your merry way, you are a very important to our research project. Your effect on the cricket wars is crucial to the overall project”

So Belinda and I were killed and the crew destroyed. The S.S. Julian gone. It was a great ship with a great crew. My heart sinks “So TD what are you researching, I mean if it’s the meaning to life, there ain’t none” I state rather confidently for some one who only has half a brain and one eye. “No, nothing that straightforward” says TD “We’re trying to figure out why baked beans on toast are a healthy meal option. Anyway in a few days you will be back on your new ship and this will only feel like a dream.”

“So I’m off to the Scientist of the Year dinner tonight. Trouble is I never know what to order” informs TD “How bout schnitzel with chips and salad” I bait “Yes they are coming with me, we’re a very popular choice. I always get anxious though” “What, are you chicken schnitzel?” I probe rather rudely. “No I guess I just have to beef up a bit. Look there is some good news and some bad news.” Gees, I hate conversations like this. “The bad news is we can’t find one of your eyes and your genitals so we’ve replaced them with bionic parts. The good news is we have increased your muscle strength and tightened that tummy of yours” “Hey TD” I ask “How about making it a big bigger, you know psst psst psst” I request rather pathetically “Okay then, is that all you earth men think of?” TD asks rather lamely “Yes every 4 seconds apparently. And look when you rebuild Belinda, what about a bigger front veranda?” TD stared back with a rather blank face. Then the penny dropped “Okay Sandy, I suppose that’s not too much to ask” as he walked away shaking his head.

7.3 Epilogue – Space, the Final Front Ear

07 Sunday Mar 2010

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It seems that on a visit to Earth sometime around the millennium Shane Warne had sex with an unknown woman in a public lavatory. Now before you think even less of Warne, it was she who forced herself upon the spin star on this ocassion, not the other way round.

Digital War and Peace Explanation and Pic by Warrigal Mirriyuula – continues……

Warney was shagged to within a micron of his soul case. He was left battered and bruised and none the wiser; but it was always that way post coitaly for Warne.

To cut to the chase, the woman was a grotesque witch with a skin condition and the love child of that improbable union was a small pug dog whom the Sith elevated to Darth Turd.

Knowing that no-one would look at a dwarf dog and take it seriously, Darth Turd asked his Mum to turn him into a human. Unfortunately the DNA that codes for height was faulty and the pug swapped being a dwarf dog for being a dwarf human. Apparently a lot of other DNA didn’t work either.

—–ooooo—–

Here is an announcement from the ICCB president Sunil Gavitron straight off the wire.

“Greetings to all. I am pleased to announce that at 1400 hrs yesterday the rebel ship the S.S. Julian was destroyed by the ICCB Death Ball II.  The ship was annihilated, I said annihilated, annihilated, killing all that sail on her, er, um, him. This brings an end to those treacherous rebels commandeered by Lord Climate D’Change otherwise known as Father Sandy O’Way.

All rogue planets, please take note that your fees are due by the end of the month, no excuses now, otherwise the Death Ball will give you a call.

Now it’s come to my attention that there has been some excessive sledging going on. In no way does the ICCB condone sledging, unless you win. Any worlds that commence warfare from sledging will have there fees doubled. You are not allowed to have any physical contact with your opponent during the game especially if you lose.

To parents please ensure your child has sun block, extra water, thermo-nuclear blocking agents and laser cannons available if the need arises, oh, and yes, can you make sure that the home side supplies the oranges. These items are necessary in the modern cricket world.

Now no grumbling please when you lose the toss and are sent in on a sticky wicket. Remember they have to bat on it too and for every run you have on the board is a run that they have to get. Those worlds that have an atmosphere full of cyanide then please ensure that all players are given the right breathing apparatus and those worlds under water I suggest you put more weight in the ball.

I would also like to introduce our new chief of staff Lord John ‘The Rodent’ Howard who has been appointed following an extensive process to take over from the unfortunate death of Lord Deaf Vision. I expect you all to welcome Lord Rodent to his new role of overseeing the ICCB’s galactic program. I’m sure Lord Rodent will bring everyone together as a team, just like he did in his previous role.

Cricket will survive, cricket will rule, cricket will dominate the universe, let me stress, dominate, dominate, dominate……”

[Authors note: And so ends the tale of the space hero Father Sandy O’Way or does it? Don’t touch the dial, stay tuned….]

7.2 The Kipper Gets Canned

04 Thursday Mar 2010

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The New Chairman

Digital Vader by Warrigal Mirriyuula

The mood on the S.S. Julian is sombre. The Kipper was killed in the fighting with the ICCB troops on Zog. This is our first loss and I’m finding it rather difficult to come to terms with the whole thing. We have just held the funeral service for the Kipper and placed him in a can, just like all good Kippers like to be. Dave does a rendition of Don McLean’s Vincent and Jilligan places the Kipper’s favourite hat on top of the can. We all head to the Bats Droppings to have a few pints or so to mourn the loss of our crew member.

Henry, our navcom, informs me that we are being followed by an ICCB ship however it’s not a warship “Blow the zarking thing up” I call through the intercom. “Lord Climate, an ICCB representative wishes to beam aboard, it’s a Lord Algernon, the ICCB’s Business Relationships Manager” says Henry “Tell him to zark off, anyway what business to we have with those dickheads?” I reply in a rather frustrated tone. I’m tired, the gun battle was hard going however what was worse was I had to listen to some Beatles music, yyyyeeeeuck. It was good though watching those ICCB troops running for the hills trying to get there headsets off.

“Sandy” says Michael in his usual Welsh sing-song way “Why don’t we at least listen to what he has to say, could be entertaining.” “Okay then Henry, let him come in, turn the defence shield off and no weapons” I state firmly into the intercom.

We meet in the middle of the green, on top of the wicket actually. “Lord Climate” the creature says “Salutations.” “I know you, you went to school with me at Inner Cyberia, it’s T..” I assert. “Yes it’s me Sandy” interjects Lord Algernon “I no longer go by that name. Yes we had fun didn’t we. The test match in the park every weekend, Glenda coming in off her long run and scaring the shit out of everyone. Remember when Emmjay stood up to Big Willie, boy, he was brave, I mean Big Willie was mean. Went on to become a Hells Angle I believe.” Yes, those were the days, when cricket was fun unlike now, now I’m caught up in an intergalactic cricket war.

“Now I’m sure you didn’t come here to discuss the good old days Lord Algernon, what is it exactly that you want?” I press. “Well, you’ve racked up quite an account with us, a death ball, a dozen or so destroyers and around a million staff dead, yes quite a bill” announces Lord Algernon. “Look mate, I’m on a mission from GOD, I didn’t ask to be drawn into any war and if that stupid Death Ball hadn’t caught us in that detractor beam none of this would have happened.” I reply rather assertively. “GOD you say?” queries Lord Algernon, “Yes, Gordon O’Donnell, the creator of the universe, sent me out into space to report on cricket games.” “You’re working for Gordon?” chokes Lord Algernon “Gee wish I had known that.” Lord Algernon pulls out his phone and makes a call. “Great Sandy” he says “Gordon has said send him the bill care of the Pigs Arms and we are to leave you alone” then vanishes.

Just as Lord Algernon vanished the Death Ball opened fire with its Annihilation Rendered Series Energiser ray destroying the S.S. Julian and all on board. Puts new meaning into the phrase ‘Blow in out your arse’. In fact the strike was so powerful that a cloud of atoms rose into the sky for half a light year. The ruse had worked, the fake call to Gordon was the signal for the Death Ball to fire in one minute.

On the planet Arcup a ripple in the space fabric was felt as they had lost one of their own. On Earth, in the Pigs Arms, everyone stopped momentarily and Astyages looked up into the heavens and muttered “Something bad has happened in the cosmos tonight”

7.1 The End of Zog, Part 2

23 Tuesday Feb 2010

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Here we see the Nimmow III, proud successor to our flagship, which just happened to be in the area on patrol and witnessed the Death of Zog

Warrigal assured me this really happened.

Worms and Music by Hung One On

We’re heading for the teleport station as fast as we can go. The Zogarian officials herd us into an isolated cabin on the perimeter, probably they don’t want to see us get killed by the ICCB. See, Zog has an unsteady relationship with the ICCB, they pay their fees but that’s about it.

“We fight to the death and die heroes” says Helvi. “Helvi, can you cut the die bit, you know I’m a born coward” I reply meekly. “But Sandy, unless the defrag finishes soon the only thing we can do is fight” grins Helvi as she breaks out the laser cannons. “Yeah, let’s fight” says Belinda. Belinda has that look in her eye that says ‘Don’t zark with me man’. Wow, these women are scary stuff.

One side of the room has some windows looking out over the fence where our navcom has said that the troops will come from. The crew line out and occupy a window space just like you see in all of those war movies. I try to think of something stupid so I can use the farce to get us outta here but my mind is blank. I’m so scarred that I wanna shit myself.

Suddenly there is a big bang and all of the windows explode and we are all knocked to the ground. My ears are ringing and I throw up. That lobster salad I had for lunch with the cricket coaches tastes different on the way out I can tell ya.

Warrigal says “That’s the sonic boom they send in just to unsettle you, won’t kill you though, the troops like to do that personally.” Gee, thanks Dingo, I think to myself. We open fire as the troops approach and as usual Helvi is taking them out left right and centre. The fire fight escalates and chaos reigns around us.

Dave the guitar droid comes over to me “Sandy, I found a TIME machine, come and have a look.” Dave and I crawl over to the corner of the room on our hands and knees. “So we can travel in time Dave?” I ask naively. “No, not until the next book Sandy. See this is a Temporal Intermittent Music Emitter. You plug in music here and it will transmit it into the headsets that the ICCB troops wear. So you plug in something really awful and the troops will run for it. Only catch is, someone needs to take out the Field Unit Control Kapsule.” Acronyms, they will be the death of me.

Helvi bursts out the door firing laser cannons from each hand and races up to the ridge. Hey, there’s always a ridge in war movies. The crew are backing her with continuous rounds of fire. Helvi uses a rocket launcher from behind the ridge and as usual hits the Kapsule first shot. I sing out to Dave “Put on the Beatles, She Loves You that would scare the shit out of anyone.” Immediately the troops start wrestling with their headsets and start running away.

Michael grabs my arm “Sandy come quick, the Kipper’s been hit” I race over to the Kipper who has a large wound to his chest and is lying on the ground. “Don’t worry Kipper” I reassure “We’ll take back to the regen station” “Sorry Sandy, I can no longer be regenerated I’m finished” the Kipper relates as he struggles in immense pain. “But Kipper” I blurt nervously “You are part of the story. I mean I need to take the mickey out of a 60’s American sit-com.” “Well” suggests the Kipper “How about Petticoat Junction or Greenacres perhaps?” The Kipper stops moving. Jilligan closes the Kippers eyes. I cry, zark, this wasn’t supposed to happened, what would Mr Douglas do I wonder.

My phone rings, its Henry the navcom, “Hi guys defrags finished, beam on up”

[Authors Note: The End of Zog you ask? If we time travel into the future of Zog we find that the cricket teams start sledging each other which leads to conflicts of their culture. These conflicts lead to skirmishes then onto wars. Each regional cricket council tries to annihilate the other until one dark day a scientist arises called Say Tin. Say Tin is an evil nasty little creature with an attitude problem. Say Tin invents a bomb that kills everything on the plant, hence the end of Zog. Scary but true, well sort of.]

7.1 The End of Zog

16 Tuesday Feb 2010

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Sandy and Belinda’s Wedding Cake

Digital Matrimony by Warrigal

We are currently on Zog staying with our host Ziggy McGurk, no relation. Zogarian culture is very advanced compared to Earth. See on Zog there are no nations, its just one nation, sorry Pauline. There hasn’t been a war for over 100,000 years. As there are no wars the Zogarians got on with solving all of the problems like poverty, homelessness and disease. Zog has been a member of the space community for about 5,000 years and are experienced in space exploration and most importantly welcoming aliens. When you land you are scanned for disease and cured so no more methicillin resistant staph. aureus for me. You know it on Earth as the super bug MRSA that infects every hospital on the planet.

The problem on Zog that I have been sent to fix is that Zogarians are so dammed polite no one seems to be able to win a cricket game. Oh yes, the Zogarians are cricket fanatics. Some of the crew have come down as well to watch a few plays and go to the cricket. Ziggy has arranged for me to meet the cricket coaches so that I can teach them how to sledge an opponent Aussie style so that the teams can start to win.

I’m taken to a meeting venue at the Grand Arena, the HQ for Zogarian cricket. The room holds about 200 people and it’s packed. I’m shitting myself but this is what Gordon O’Donnell, the creator of the universe, wants me to do. “Now listen up. The players are too polite” I lead off “So you have got to get the fielding side to get into the head of the batsmen. This upsets them and throws them off there game.” I inform. “So if a batsman comes out who’s a bit overweight the bowler has to yell out ‘Hey fatso, can you move over a bit I can’t see the stumps?’” I declare. Around the room gasps and cries are rising up. “That’s cheating” one coach says “Well mate, that’s how the Aussie’s have been winning games for years and we’re the best on our planet. Anyway there is nothing in the rules to prevent it.” I state rather sternly, not like me at all.

To balance it up I lunge on “So now the batman has to say ‘Mate the reason I’m so fat is that every time I make love to your wife she gives me a biscuit’”. Faces turn to horror and cries ring out around the room. “Out with this cad” cries one man. “Get rid of this scoundrel” says another. “Look I understand you don’t like it but you do want to win don’t you?” I ask. The room quietens down. Yes, I’ve hit a nerve. They obviously want to win but it seems it’s against their culture.

“So Father, do you have any others?” asks a man at the front. “Well, yes, a few. But look here’s the rules. Pick on their appearance, their parents and their batting and bowling technique. At the end of the game always shake hands and have a few beers and tell them you were only joking” I deflate knowing how pathetic this really is.

Just as I finish my phone rings “Lord Climate, its Henry here. Look Father there’s some good news and some bad news.” Don’t you just hate these types of conversations?  “Okay then, please don’t give me a choice, just tell me what’s up” I say rather forlornly. “Well” says Henry “The good news is that the ships drive is being defragged so it will perform better.” Nice one Henry I think to myself. “The bad news is that while this is in progress the teleport transponder won’t work and we’ve just detected 500 ICCB troops closing in on your position” says Henry.

6.1 The Chairman of the Bored

07 Sunday Feb 2010

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Do you remember when some idiot posted the pic of the ICCB scoundrels – Putin et al on the general web page or the dot ? Well, that pic should have gone here, but since I already screwed that up, I’ll continue out of sequence with this one – a home made ICCB bomb. Sigh.

Digital Mischied by Warrigal;  Screw-up by Emmjay.

Nobody’s owning up to the story, but it’s got Hung’s fingerprints all over it.

I’m bored. We’ve been in space for so long now I’ve forgotten, well, you know, the time thingy. Henry, the navcom, is avoiding tollways and wavetables so we can dodge the ICCB. It’s rumoured that the ICCB has sent out death ships to ram us and blow us up. Not on my zarking watch mate, I’ll tell you now. So, we’re taking the back roads okay?

“Are you bored Belinda?” I ask rather jadedly “Certainly not Sandy, this is great, all the books I can read, no cricket and fresh fish every second night, any girls dream, oh and of course you, handsome” Belinda replies cheekily.

“Look, I have this idea. We’ve been on this space ship for ages and we’ve never given it a name so lets?” I blurt.

“Well it’s the SHITS38B being the Super Hot Intergalactic Transport Ship Model 38 and B for Biosphere” replies Miss Smarty Pants.

“I think we need a team meeting to resolve this issue” I declare. “Catherine” I call into the ships intercom “Yes Lord Climate?” comes the reply “Look its zarking Sandy okay, get everyone  over to the Bats Droppings for a meeting, a meeting of the Bored, we need to give the ship a name” “Yes Lord Climate, a board meeting at 1500 hrs okay with you?” Catherine asks, “Yes, a Bored meeting.” I assert, “No worries Lord Climate, a board meeting booked” Catherine states.

The local pub, in the English village bio, is called the Bats Droppings and thanks to its owner they serve Trotters Ale, my favourite mildly hallucinogenic gluten free beer. Merv the droid got the recipe off Merv the publican, who brews the ale on site at the Pigs Arms back on Earth.

The crew are rolling in. There’s George our house mate, Michael the publican, Helvi our coordinator, Dave the guitar droid and the Kipper and Jilligan. There are a couple of new crew in the mix. I discover it’s the chief sensor called Warrigal. Warrigal reviews all of the data received by the ship and filterers it digitally so it makes more sense. The other droid is GO, an artist droid that immediately starts sketching a picture of this historic meeting.

“Okay you lot, grab a pint on me” I call, cheers erupt round the room, buying votes? Never crossed my mind. Oh, and yes droids can eat and drink when they want to. “Now I want to name the ship, anyone got any ideas?” I put to the group. “What about Sunev which is Venus backwards” says Dave, “The Van Gough” says GO “What about the Myfanwy” says Michael “Very Welsh” he continues and rubs his groin. The crew keep tossing up ideas. I love brain storming because basically I don’t actually have a brain.

Suddenly Belinda speaks up. Holding her tonic water to her ample bosom she says “Sandy, why don’t we ask the ship what it wants to be called? You see one night I couldn’t sleep as you were snoring so loudly. [Tutu here: Know what I mean girls?] I did some research about the ship. The ship is built by the Arcups and when the WEE is turned on the ship becomes sentient.” Gee I’ve heard some farcical things since I’ve been in space but this takes the cake. Suddenly the room starts to spin “Sandy, Sandy, come back, it’s true, ask Catherine” Belinda calls. Boy, the farce is strong at times.

I talk into the ships intercom “Catherine is what Belinda is telling me true?” “Yes Lord Climate, the ship is sentient” replies Catherine. “Can I talk to it?” I enquire “No, but I can” relates Catherine. “Okay, then ask the ship what it wants to be called?” I request of the central controlling computer. “Okay but this will take a few minutes and you may not like the answer” says Catherine.

Another round is poured as GO completes his sketch. Dave plays a few tunes from Pink Floyd just to break it down. Michael brings out a couple of trays of wedgies. Life’s good ain’t it.

“Lord Climate the answer is er, well, um, you know, sort of, well, Julian” says Catherine. “What Julian! What sort of sprauncy name is that I mean what about something mean and evil?” I state firmly, “I told you you wouldn’t like the answer” Catherine replies “But that is what he wants to be called although it’s not the name his mother gave him”

So there we are, I’m the Chairman of the Bored of the SHITS38B which is now called the S.S. Julian and Gordon bless all that sail on her.