Following their recent squatters benefit performance
at Highgate Cemetery, Amber and the gang head off for some
R&R at London's poshest bomb shelter. As always, a cadre
of hardcore groupies was in tow, largely made up of Israeli
billionaires. Declining the mad-cow hors d' oeuvres, Amber
pumps her 79 year old sugar granddaddy for a tour of CCTV's
main operating room.
Once in, Amber need only sashay her entrancing little
bum in order to bend the myopic bureaucrats to her will.
The busiest intersection, that of Hyde Park Square, is up
on the control screen and Amber thumps the microphone a
few times to test its responsiveness.
"'Ay up, little chaps!" commands the precocious tease
artist, "Amber says: turn off your engines!"
To her delight, London motorists look up at the large
black megaphone above and obey, their eyes suddenly servile
and their postures hunched-up.
"Hee, hee, watch this, Rothschild," she giggles then
recommences in her most authoritarian tone, "Amber says,
step out of your car!"
Hundreds of motorists, bus passengers and taxi
drivers stand in the silent street looking up into the sky.
"Amber says, take off your underpants and wear them
over your head!" For a split second, the sheeple look at
each other in disbelief, but capitulate without protest.
"Amber says, stick your finger up your bum, hop on one
foot and act like Corky!"
The proud stock of London, once the most powerful
metropolis in the civilized world, squat and shove their
index fingers into their slimey holes, and then begin
hopping, groaning, chattering like mongoloids, tripping over
each other, walking into street lamps and rolling in the
gravel.
"Amber says stop! Stand up and repeat after me:
'Blimey - today my worst fears are confirmed - I'm nothing
but a mindless twit in a fascist police state - oh, the
brutes! - I guess I ain't very sharp to stand still for this
dehumanizing abuse!'"
The Londoners repeat this chorus without a cent of irony.
"Amber says, grab the nearest Paki and slam your car
door on his head!"
"Amber says, all mixed-race motorists working in the IT
sector, place your vehicle in reverse gear and lie on the
ground behind the back wheel!"
"Amber says, take your Morrissey cassettes out of your
cars and pee on them!"
After this final outrage, Amber spies a young bobby
running into a police box, obviously intent on reporting the
incident.
"Stomp that bobby in the box!!!"
To which a dozen or so rugby players run forward to pull
the 18 year old patrolman out of the kiosk, knee him in his
genitals and trample his beardless face with their cleats.
"I didn't say 'Amber says'! You are friggin� wankers!"
Suddenly Amber screws-up her face and starts to ball,
"Oh, Daddy Rothchild, those people scare me! Boo-hoo!" wiping
her tears and her runny nose on his lapels.
"There, there, my little Aryan schtupzl, when these silly
goy frighten me I always sell a few mazeltov cocktails to the
wogs and wiggers. They start a race riot and everyone's happy.
Now cheer up, slip into your Wehremacht helmet and take a bite
off my chocolate jesus."
"Is it kosher?"
"Is it kosher? You ask that of a man who eats shiksa
babies for breakfast?!"
Monday, August 13, 2007
Amber Alert!
Commentary on this story (and in its more sensational incarnation) is somewhat belated, but biting enough to warrant publication at this time. The work of Lon Flexx:
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