The Rum Rebellion's fermented thread
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A BARBIE TOO FAR
Evil Steve stood tall in the dock – squared jawed, nobly browed, devilishly handsome. A tearstained gaggle of the galaxy’s most beautiful women embarked on the latest craze of synchronised swooning.
The Metaverse Supreme Court was in session. Seven of the most respected emperors glared down on Evil Steve – the wise wizard, Ray the Wanderer, ol’ iron paw, Wild Wombat, the drum-skinned G-Force, the corny Surther, the inscrutable Jedi Master Yoda, Paguma, Lord of the Undead , the wily strategist, Sirian.
“Evil Steve”, intoned Ray majestically, “You iz charged, ahem, you are charged with being a crap emperor.”
“How do you plead?” intoned Wombat ferrously.
“Dis court iz h’incontintutional”, fumed Evil Steve majorly.
“Your airing of your personal problem is casting a major cloud over Metaverse relationships”, gasped Ray palely.
“You ANZACs need to show some respect”, coughed Wombat sickly.
“Who iz top dog ‘ere?” squirted Evil Steve wetly, knowing full well that the lead, like his underwear, was hotly contested.
“Further to the charge of being a crap emperor,” intoned Ray momentarily, “you are also charged with being a POM pretending to be an Aussie pretending to a be a Cambridge educated Jewish entertainer pretending to be a gangsta rapper.”
“How do you plead”, intoned Wombat suddenly.
“Iz we talkin’ off camera?” roared Evil Steve blackly.
“Right that’s it,” roared Ray magnificently, “you are sentenced to……”
“Not so fast, wizard,” roared Evil Steve pointedly. An uzi gleamed unnaturally in his beautifully formed fist. “I iz only pretendin’ to be h’incontinent so dat you iz not searchin’ me pipe.”
CRASH
The ANZACs burst into the courtroom, uzis out.
“Right lads,” roared Evil Steve gorgeously, “let’s show ‘em some respect!”
BAKKA BAKKA ACK ACK BAKKA BAKKA ACK ACK BAKKA BAKKA
MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Evil Steve suddenly woke from his two week coma and dug his way out of a pile of empty tinnies. The rest of the ANZACs fidgeted and scratched in the ANZAC bunker.
“All hail Evil Steve,” they roared introspectively.
Evil Steve sniffed the air. Incense. Something was terribly wrong.
“Hey Evil Steve,” minced the mighty Stydracos, “have a look at my embroidery.”
“No Evil Steve,” minced the glowing LavaLampMaster, “have a look at my macramé.”
“Please Evil Steve,” minced the capital Never-Never, “I insist you gaze upon my origami. Look it’s in the shape of an uzi”
Evil Steve pinched himself. The booze had been plundered and the bunker looked like a CWA meet. He’d only been away 2 weeks and the whole gang had turned into butty-boys.
“Right that’s it,” roared Evil Steve homeopathically. “Da Metaverse is payin’ us no respect, and so we iz not respectin’ da Metaverse! Oil up yer uzis”
“Huzzah,” roared the ANZACs instantly.
Evil Steve tossed over the empty tinnies.
“Get workin’ on da helmets. We iz rebellin’”, roared Evil Steve. “At least until we get our booze back.”
Evil Steve stood tall in the dock – squared jawed, nobly browed, devilishly handsome. A tearstained gaggle of the galaxy’s most beautiful women embarked on the latest craze of synchronised swooning.
The Metaverse Supreme Court was in session. Seven of the most respected emperors glared down on Evil Steve – the wise wizard, Ray the Wanderer, ol’ iron paw, Wild Wombat, the drum-skinned G-Force, the corny Surther, the inscrutable Jedi Master Yoda, Paguma, Lord of the Undead , the wily strategist, Sirian.
“Evil Steve”, intoned Ray majestically, “You iz charged, ahem, you are charged with being a crap emperor.”
“How do you plead?” intoned Wombat ferrously.
“Dis court iz h’incontintutional”, fumed Evil Steve majorly.
“Your airing of your personal problem is casting a major cloud over Metaverse relationships”, gasped Ray palely.
“You ANZACs need to show some respect”, coughed Wombat sickly.
“Who iz top dog ‘ere?” squirted Evil Steve wetly, knowing full well that the lead, like his underwear, was hotly contested.
“Further to the charge of being a crap emperor,” intoned Ray momentarily, “you are also charged with being a POM pretending to be an Aussie pretending to a be a Cambridge educated Jewish entertainer pretending to be a gangsta rapper.”
“How do you plead”, intoned Wombat suddenly.
“Iz we talkin’ off camera?” roared Evil Steve blackly.
“Right that’s it,” roared Ray magnificently, “you are sentenced to……”
“Not so fast, wizard,” roared Evil Steve pointedly. An uzi gleamed unnaturally in his beautifully formed fist. “I iz only pretendin’ to be h’incontinent so dat you iz not searchin’ me pipe.”
CRASH
The ANZACs burst into the courtroom, uzis out.
“Right lads,” roared Evil Steve gorgeously, “let’s show ‘em some respect!”
BAKKA BAKKA ACK ACK BAKKA BAKKA ACK ACK BAKKA BAKKA
MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Evil Steve suddenly woke from his two week coma and dug his way out of a pile of empty tinnies. The rest of the ANZACs fidgeted and scratched in the ANZAC bunker.
“All hail Evil Steve,” they roared introspectively.
Evil Steve sniffed the air. Incense. Something was terribly wrong.
“Hey Evil Steve,” minced the mighty Stydracos, “have a look at my embroidery.”
“No Evil Steve,” minced the glowing LavaLampMaster, “have a look at my macramé.”
“Please Evil Steve,” minced the capital Never-Never, “I insist you gaze upon my origami. Look it’s in the shape of an uzi”
Evil Steve pinched himself. The booze had been plundered and the bunker looked like a CWA meet. He’d only been away 2 weeks and the whole gang had turned into butty-boys.
“Right that’s it,” roared Evil Steve homeopathically. “Da Metaverse is payin’ us no respect, and so we iz not respectin’ da Metaverse! Oil up yer uzis”
“Huzzah,” roared the ANZACs instantly.
Evil Steve tossed over the empty tinnies.
“Get workin’ on da helmets. We iz rebellin’”, roared Evil Steve. “At least until we get our booze back.”
