The Pharmageddon Dynasty.
A Comedy
OF INFINITE PARTS.
Lord Bad Egg and the Kava Karve Up
By
Ivor Hughes
"How often is the image of the good shepherd held up before us as
the epitome of gentle and kind ? And in his other persona as the vigilant
and courageous protector of the flock, from the predators of the dark.
How often do I forget? that its only mutton and lamb on the hoof as it were.
All to be slaughtered and eaten. Perhaps the shepherd and his dog are not so
benign after all ?
Lord Chief Justice Lord R.U.A. Bad Egg KC VD and scar came to a horrified
halt, damn ! � I am reading the wrong script ..... He stood high in the
oratory overlooking the Norman nave. In serried ranks the dark oak pews
retreated to the dusk at the end of the nave. The Abbey was full. 4 thousand
pairs of eyes, firing 8000 poison darts and arrows.
Bad Egg flinched before the psychic onslaught, but was literally saved by
the bell. His cell phone rang. "Bad Egg here" .... A disembodied
voice was saying ... this is a recording, 'Your annual subscription to
Erotica Mania Weekly is due to expire'.. Bad Egg drew breath, and facing the
entire Abbey, said in a loud voice " What's that you say .. the King is
seriously ill ? Tell his Britannic Majesty that I shall be at his esteemed
Majesties bedside in a brace of shakes, if not sooner."
Arms raised in benediction, Bad Egg faced the congregation and boomed ..
"Dearly Beloved. We are gathered here today, to rend our clothes from
us, and to don sackcloth, and to anoint our heads with ashes. For the Patron
and Defender of our faith is a deaths door. As his Britannic Majesties
oldest and dearest friend, it is fitting that I should be with him as he
passes over to the Right Hand of God".
On Bad Eggs dying echo, the organ boomed the opening chords of the National
Anthem. As a body the congregation rose, and with barely concealed emotion,
thundered out the rallying call to the flag.
A scant 2 hours later, Bad Eggs Armored Bentley purred past the machine gun nests and gun emplacements that lined the grand drive of Pharmageddon Castle. The Bad Egg Seat since 1066AD. Hastings and all that smelly rot.
The snow scrunched under the wheels as the Bentley slowed to a halt before the grand entrance. Fotheringay held the rear door open as Bad Egg alighted. The assembled 120 staff stood shivering, as they had done for the past 2 hours. Clad only in their threadbare summer clothes and worn tennis shoes. Bad Egg looked at their purple and runny noses in disgust. "Back to your kennels you sniveling curs", he barked, the whimpering peasantry, scuttled speedily, tail between legs for the cold attic.
Ensconced in the library with log fire roaring and crackling. Bad Egg replaced his chased silver pill box into a waistcoat pocket, popped the 6 x 500 mg Black Bombers (Amphetamines) and rinsed them back with two good gulps of Marks and Spencer�s Vintage Port. Fotheringay stood motionless, ghostly, like a black and maroon penguin, salver under arm, but with the alert attitude of a good gun dog waiting for the command.
Bad Egg 'harrumphed ! "Righty Ho Fotheringay !, listen in very carefully. Phone the Parliamentary Under Secretary for Health 'Lord Blowjob. Tell him to pick up the Secretary of Health, The Rt. Hon. Wata Bumlicker MP. and get their unsavory bodies over here, toot sweet !" Bad Egg spoke French in the same way that Maurice Chevalier spoke English. "Bloody Froggies" he muttered. "Oh and tell them to bring along General Lord Montsnoggery of Benghazi Red Light District."
30 minutes later to the second, the phalanx of radar controlled, ground to air nuclear missiles, mounted on the East Tower, swung in a menacing manner, this to meet the sound of the incoming helicopter. On receiving the recognition signal the phalanx went flaccid. The black helicopter with its white skull with flaming wings insignia made a neat 3 point landing on the croquet green outside the library window.
Bad Egg viewed his visitors with distaste. "Righty Ho Fotheringay, a 3 litre cask of Chateau Cardboard for Montsnoggery. A bottle of Marks and Spencers Vintage Port for Blowjob and a Pint of beer shandy for Bumlicker and a fresh bottle of brandy for me. Ok faster than you would like, Go !" Drinks and glasses delivered, Fotheringay retired to the outside keyhole of the library door. This to be alert to his master faintest command.
"Blithering hell Montsnoggery ... take that stupid beret off, you look like a froggie onion seller .. with a glare" Bad Egg continued, "after the Saint Judes Orphanage balls up (Massacre), I had the US Gen Nuke Rubyridge transferred to the Persian Gulf. Therefore you will fill his place in the Defence of the English Realm. I want an English Brigade in Ireland, an Irish Brigade in England, a Welsh Brigade in Scotland and a Scottish Brigade in Wales. That should keep the blighters at each others throats, and take the pong (Stench) away from us."
"Your task Blowjob, assisted by Bumlicker, is to load the CMA (Committee on Safety of Medicines) with Pharmageddon Pharmaceuticals Share holders. That should be easy, 99% of those PhD,s have already accepted the Pigeon Masters beneficence." Bad Egg, when using the term 'PhD' used that tone of voice that one uses to describe the smell of effluent on a new settling pond.
"This one, is a top share price Commercial Coup, it is worth billions of US$ Crinklies. Its 'Kava Kava' " Bad Egg spoke as though he were short of breath, "As you know, the filthy unwashed masses have rumbled the Old Bailey wheeze. So this time the CMA must exercise those powers that we suborned Parliament into vesting in them".
"I say Roger old bean. "spluttered Blowjob, "what about the evidence ?" Bad Egg looked at Blowjob as one would look at the sole of ones shoe, covered in Corgi dog turd. "Evidence!" barked Bad Egg, "Evidence! ? you groveling little bum job, do what we always do !" ("Bally Blithering idiot" muttered Bad Egg) "Manufacture some shonky evidence !! " Blowjob puckered his nose, stuck out his lower lip, and retreated into a sulky silence.
"Me L'ud," ventured Bumlicker, "we will have to produce some deaths to make it all look Pukka Sahib." "Precisely!" roared Bad Egg ... "drag the chain on this one, and your name is first on the list." Bumlicker was suddenly overcome with a classic case of watery guts. "Fotheringay !" Bad Egg bellowed, " Get your bally ear off that keyhole, and get some fresh trousers for Bumlicker." Oh and don�t forget the Pharmageddon synthetic lavender air freshener.
Montsnoggery! .. Bad Egg barked! you bally blithering idiot .. wait until the air freshener has been sprayed before putting on your gas mask; You Bumlicker are excused, Fotheringay has given your clean trousers to the Cook, you may collect them from her .. she will pass the news to the rest of the staff who will convey it to the village and throughout the province .. oh, and open the window and close the door behind you .. As fast as I would like .. Go .. now !
Ivor Hughes.
Dedicated to Luke
Auckland. New Zealand.
22 April 2006
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