From: Fingers McPhee 
Subject: WWN - Bonus level patch.  
Date: 1997/08/29


This is something I wrote in the style of the Daily Mail after the
Reclaim the Streets march and then forgot all about, smashing all
previous records for late deadlines. Cast your minds back... back...
back...

{{wibbly wavy flashback sequence}}



Dangerous Anarchists Plan To Destroy House of Commons

TENS of thousands of unwashed trots swarmed onto the streets of our
capitol this weekend with the avowed intention of overthrowing the
state and plunging Britain into a state of anarchy unknown since the
100 Years War.

Legions of left-wing sympathisers hijacked the march, given by honest,
loyal dockworkers who were legitimately protesting job losses as is
their labour right.

"We're going to murder everyone we see," shouted a masked ringleader,
who sounded like he might be from North London. "No one is safe!
Especially not those ungroovy pigs or that fascist John Major. He's so
unhip, dudes."

Two-year-old Ivan Swedonim was left in tears after a rank and stinking
group of dreadlocked anarchists surrounded him in Trafalgar Square, to
scream obscene abuse into his face before making off with his
lollipop, which they later exchanged for drugs.

"They offered me LSD which they said was a sort of sherbert, and a
book by a man named Marx," he wept. "I was frightened."

Pensioner Bob Crachit (94) wasn't so lucky. An innocent passerby, he
was quickly sucked into a terrifying whirlpool of violence. He said:
"I was waiting for the number 42 bus when these six thugs descended on
me. One of them walked up, bold as brass, and said: "Excuse me, can
you tell me where the nearest tube station is please." It was obvious
that they were about to slit my throat and hang me upside down by my
heels from a lampost as they held a drug-fuelled orgy in a spreading
pool of my blood.

"I think one of them might have had a nose-ring, but it all happened
so fast. I immediately cracked the ringleader smartly on the kneecap
with my walking stick and told them to f*** off. It was the only
language these cowards understood, and they apologised and left. They
wouldn't have lasted long in 1943, that's for sure."

In amazing scenes, hate-fuelled anarchists wantonly spilled a soft
drink on the cenotaph while one wrote "tories out" in letters nearly
three inches high at the foot of General Montgomery's statue.

Thousands of drug-demented revellers were meanwhile reducing the
National Portrait Gallery to rubble by dancing on it. Within seconds,
the mighty national treasure had collapsed, crushing hundreds beneath
it, including a party of Boy Scout Orphans, who were in town to see
some Constables.

The thin blue line of police officers outside struggled heroically to
contain wave after wave of human filth, bent on breaking through to
distribute mind-altering substances at every primary school in London.

By 5pm, air raid sirens split the air with their lonesome wail as the
city was plunged into darkness, lit only by the fires of burning
houses. Black rats swarmed openly on the streets, spreading plague.
Overhead, Reclaim the Street helicopter gunships raked the streets
with machine gun fire, turning school party after school party into
bloody bodyparts.The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were seen openly
laughing and joking with stewards in Trafalgar Square as Trotskyite
Mind Control Rays beamed a torrent of filth directly into the heads of
families while poison gas clouds swept over the capitol.

AN APOLOGY

In last week's Mail, we referred to the Liverpool Dock Workers as
"dangerous bolshie traitors" who "were a threat to the very fabric of
democracy." we now realise that in comparison to the social poison of
Reclaim the Streets, the Dockers are in fact Ghandi-like statesmen,
lawfully exercising their God given right to protest.


*****************************************

"Well I'm aaaall broken up about that man's rights." - C. Eastwood.