* 200 articles. Two years. Whelk. The best of Upsideclown. Might be reprinted.

A bushy fish for fishy Mr Bush (after Juvenal)

27 January 2003
Victor doesn't do political satire. Does it show?

Hernando Gonzalez was fishing for sea bass on the Californian coast. So far it had been an unusually quiet day - he could have expected four or five bites by now (it was mid afternoon). He soon found out why.

A most almighty tug on his line told him that this was no ordinary catch - an anchor, perhaps? How the hell was he going to get the thing out of the water? It doesn't matter to you how, does it? He just did. It was the largest catfish he had ever seen, let alone caught. Five or six stones at least; sure enough, the contents of the Pacific were in its stomach. The creature was covered from mouth to tailfin in thick, bristly hairs. No doubt about it, this was a prodigy, which demanded the attention of the highest power in the land, not least because Mr Gonzalez was still waiting for his citizenship to come through.

By the time Mr G arrived at the White House the Bush administration had already been alerted to the extraordinary discovery. Summoned at dawn, the advisors crowded the closed doors to the Oval Office: the subdued Mr Powell, the faceless Mr Rumsfeld, the determined Ms Rice, the shady Mr Cheney, standing in silence, shuffling feet, examining chewed fingers, until the double doors swung open. Out popped Hernando, smiling stupidly, a bodyguard guiding him firmly towards the nearest exit.

"Good morning, gentlemen, Condoleezza."

"Good morning, Mr President."

"I'm sure you are aware of developments overnight. I hardly need to add that we are now in a state of national emergency".

"What exactly is the problem, sir?"

"Well, look at it! It's huge! What are we gonna do with the sonofabitch?"

"There certainly isn't a plate in the White House big enough, sir. I checked with housekeeping this morning."

"Can we not cut it up?"

"You can't do that, Colin. Don't you see? It's an omen - of victory over world terror. Those spines on his back look just like Scuds. Besides, fish this large are protected by the United Nations. We'll have to wait for their fish inspectors to make a full report, and..."

"That'll take far too long. We've got two days before it goes off."

"That settles it, then. We'll bomb the crap out of it. Do you think Mr Blair would like to help?"

"Well, ...I know he doesn't like fish, sir."


This is the fucking archive

Current clown:

18 December 2003. George writes: This List

Most recent ten:

15 December 2003. Jamie writes: Seven Songs
11 December 2003. Dan writes: Spinning Jenny
8 December 2003. Victor writes: Rock Opera
4 December 2003. Matt writes: The Mirrored Spheres of Patagonia
1 December 2003. George writes: Charm
27 November 2003. James writes: On Boxing
24 November 2003. Jamie writes: El Matador del Amor; Or, the Man who Killed Love
20 November 2003. Dan writes: Rights Management
17 November 2003. Victor writes: Walking on Yellow
13 November 2003. Matt writes: Disintermediation
(And alas we lost Neil, who last wrote Cockfosters)

Also by this clown:

8 December 2003. Victor writes: Rock Opera
17 November 2003. Victor writes: Walking on Yellow
27 October 2003. Victor writes: Our Tune
6 October 2003. Victor writes: Sucking face (in a public place)
15 September 2003. Victor writes: You got any ID?
25 August 2003. Victor writes: Blood on the Boulevard
4 August 2003. Victor writes: In (paren)theses
10 July 2003. Victor writes: Island Fling
19 June 2003. Victor writes: Back (back) and forth (and forth)
2 June 2003. Victor writes: 300 clowns, 13 eight-year olds
12 May 2003. Victor writes: The swings and roundabouts of outrageous fortune
21 April 2003. Victor writes: ...just sitting there quietly contemplating suicide
31 March 2003. Victor writes: Victoria
6 March 2003. Victor writes: Relevant experience
17 February 2003. Victor writes: You will eat chips and go nowhere
27 January 2003. Victor writes: A bushy fish for fishy Mr Bush (after Juvenal)
6 January 2003. Victor writes: The Accidental Voyeur
16 December 2002. Victor writes: Gripper goes bang
25 November 2002. Victor writes: Bediquette
4 November 2002. Victor writes: Where have all the spastics gone?
14 October 2002. Victor writes: An Immodest Proposal
23 September 2002. Victor writes: Fastscan masterplan
2 September 2002. Victor writes: Dry Humping Social Club
12 August 2002. Victor writes: Beat the Mongol
22 July 2002. Victor writes: What life is not
1 July 2002. Victor writes: Stupor heroes
6 June 2002. Victor writes: Dry
13 May 2002. Victor writes: Muppet Suite
18 April 2002. Victor writes: gingermingeninja
25 March 2002. Victor writes: Sodomize with Pukka Pies
28 February 2002. Victor writes: Dave's problem
4 February 2002. Victor writes: King of the Aisles
10 January 2002. Victor writes: Here come the decorator gimps.
17 December 2001. Victor writes: Make war, not supper.
22 November 2001. Victor writes: Cough
29 October 2001. Victor writes:
4 October 2001. Victor writes: Green Gauges
10 September 2001. Victor writes: Blind weed
16 August 2001. Victor writes: Snout!
23 July 2001. Victor writes: You're not going to put this in a clown are you?
28 June 2001. Victor writes: What is a droll?
4 June 2001. Victor writes: Burt Pakamak
10 May 2001. Victor writes: Board to Death
12 April 2001. Victor writes: Tricolon with anaphora?
22 March 2001. Victor writes: Point of View
26 February 2001. Victor writes: Goth's Dinner
1 Feburary 2001. Victor writes: Les Miserables
4 January 2001. Victor writes: Flat-packed furniture
14 December 2000. Victor writes: Deliverance
20 November 2000. Victor writes: Bottomry: Exorcising Ghosts
26 October 2000. Victor writes: Body Art
2 October 2000. Victor writes: Disney must die
7 September 2000. Victor writes: Ice-cream in Offworld
14 August 2000. Victor writes: I like sweets that taste of medicine
26 June 2000. Victor writes: I've seen the future, and it's feathered

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