Captain Gonzo Goes To London - Part 2

Duck Soup and Cover

Upon my arrival in 'Blighty', I was met by my man in Londonium, PR shiva, Dr. "Mint" Imperialism. I meet him with two security personnelia embracing my ankles. Can I help it if I'm simply irresistible to a any animal despite their gender, creed or breakfast cereal of choice, not to mention some of the more interesting fungal cultures. "LEGGO O' ME, YOU CRAZY ESTROGEN FIENDS!!" I shouted, "THE LORD MADE ME A WANDERIN' MAN, DAMMIT !!!". Luckily my man Mint was on the case as from what I can ascertain some haplessly manic mutate had brought the place to a paranoid fervor. That man could convince a wild boar to climb up the ass of pygmy shrew.

We spent the next few days in and out of the local tavernas drinkin' rum and trading war stories, never forgetting our important work here, Pest Control. On the noon of the Saturday in question, we requisitioned the smoking balcony of the Tate Modern for some sniper shooting, our targets Living Statues and Mimes. There's nothing like a mime when shot, they adopt a pose akin to a spider monkey encased in hardened elephant spermatozoa before falling through their invisible walls.

When we finished with the easy quarry with turned our minds to far more dangerous prey, Scientologists, fore strike one of those down a horde of the begrinning devils rises in its place. I had noticed how young the average had become. I personally prefer my teenagers cynical and uncommunicative rather than all brainwashed and Smilex poisoned. We caught them in our sights, waited to see the hypnotizing whites of their teeth and set about sending them back to their alien overlords.

A Different Kind of Cult singing to their God

Captain Gonzo Goes To London - Part 1

Airport Security A Go-Go

(01/06/2007)
It was the turn of June and I was at the airport awaiting travel to Greater Britain. I had been under the impression the population were prone to wearing bowler hats and concealed rapier swords in their parasols for protection as had been my 60's Television education, needless to say I was disappointed to see nary a leather cat-suit on any of the comely ladies whilst on the isle. I had also been misinformed about this "Stiff Upper Lip", as far I was concerned I was about become a Slick Mouthed God passing through a generational epidemic of stroke victims.

First off was dealing with security and the water quota. Is not a man made of 2 thirds liquid? You see This Is The Canadian Nasty-Cat perched in their Cream of Mushroom Soup. In the opinion of this Doctor of Journalism, All people with Polio passing through airport security should be immediately detained. Only they in their palsy have the appropriate gammy balance to stop two liquid chemicals mixing in their bodies until the right time. Let them through and see what will happen, at some point they'll fall over and Buckingham Palace will be atomized! I can see the headline now: BRITISH ROYAL FAMILY DECIMATED BY TERRORIST GIMP BOMB. Despite my lack of confidence in airport security, I had not a single orange crush since that Tuesday and had that morning syringed empty my bladder.

They had me with the plastique insoles in my shoes though. Luckily after a search so invasive I would have expected to have been bought dinner beforehand, I was free to go. Thanks to my press credentials and rap sheet they decided that I was no terrorist but merely a Nomadic Mutant. They couldn't be sure It was safe to let me in but they could always use me under their Government's scapegoat policy for Population Culling, Codename: Deus Teneo Ex Machina.

Finally I was on the plane and off to London Town accompanied by many a fighting and screaming child. Quickly checking for pregnant women I reached for the CS spray I had concealed in my hand luggage.....

TO BE CONTINUED


The Chaser Through Airport Security