Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Gunboat Diplomacy

I don't understand all this fuss about these British sailors the Iranians are holding.

I mean, has anybody considered asking for them back nicely?

I know that temper tantrums are a famous Persian characteristic - when I was ten, I accidentally kicked my ball into Ayatollah Khomeini's back garden, and the ill-tempered old cunt burst it with a penknife.

"There is no room for play in Islam, young man," he intoned gravely. "It is deadly serious about everything."

It would've been even more convincing if he hadn't been dribbling and furtively rubbing his light-sabre beneath his hilarious Jedi Knight outfit, but I got his point. Fundamentalist Islam is a serious business, and it should be approached with the appropriate level of respect.

That's why I've been actively resisting the advance of totalitarian Islamism by spending my days naked, snorting cocaine on rollercoasters.

I've had good times, but I can't pretend that it hasn't taken its toll - over the last five years, I've blown at least £5000, and I've become chronically dependent upon the Nemisis Inferno.

Still, it's good to see the British playing military operations by the book. Admittedly, the book in question seems to have been Bravo Two-Zero, but they've followed the plan to the letter...

Step One - Arrive at target.

Step Two - Get lost.

Step Three - Get captured.

I suppose that we should probably look on the bright side - our troops are probably a hell of a lot safer in Tehran than in Basra.

No doubt the Prime Minister has an audacious rescue plan in mind - after all, he's talked a good game for the past few years. I bet he's just lulling the mullahs into a false sense of security.

Then Bam!

The fuckers won't know what hit them.

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