Trail of the Disturber: One.

Relaxing after her close escape from the clutches of the (now late)Discomfiter, Ms. Madison returned to her native London, and her long-term admirer, Michael Rake, a man who despaired of ever becoming more than a close friend to the lovely blonde on account of her frequent foreign trips. Not knowing that she was the secretary of the Green Man, he suspected that the blonde daughter of Madison of the Yard might somehow be involved in intelligence work. Our story opens w.ith the pair waltzing over the floor of the Savoy Ballroom.

'Can't you just quit your job and settle down?' Michael asked plaintively for the several hundreth times. 'I've got enough dough for the both of us, and we could travel togther if that's what you want out of life.'

'You know my answer, Mike,' she laughed softly. 'I think you're sweet, but I'm not done with life as a bachelor girl.'

'Your father thinks so,' Rake held her closer, 'your mother thinks so, and I think so. So, what exactly is the problem?'

'The problem, Michael,' she sighed, leaning back in his arms, 'is that I don't think so. Michael, I like you - a lot. But I don't like you enough to give up everything and become a housewife.'

A page approached the dancing couple, manner a little nervous. Ms. Madison saw him over Rake's shoulder and siezed her chance.

'What's up?' she asked, eyes wide.

'You're wanted on the telephone, Miss,' the page smiled. 'Bloke says you'll know who it is.'

'Got to go!' Ms. Madison ran for the desk, snatching up the receiver, she answered promptly.

'I hope that I am not interrupting you,' the voice of the Green Man came down the 'phone. 'But even if I am, you must leave it. Make your way to Heathrow at once. Your bags will be sent on after you. You are to take the eleven o'clock flight to Cairo. Your orders will be given you at the Palace Hotel. The Disturber is planning something huge.'

Ms. Madison just had time to grab her wrap before leaving.

Twenty-three: Doom of a Discomfiter part sixteen

Caught in the blast-corridor of the Discomfiter's fortress, the Green Man and his lovely assistant, Ms. Madison find themselves looking at the base of the nuclear missile the Discomfiter has aimed at Washington DC. As they watch, they hear the rising hum of the engines. Ms. Madison screams at the prospect of being burned alive...

The Green Man handed Ms. Madison a jemmy and screwdriver.

'Go over to the rocket and start smashing things, Madison,' he instructed the blonde. 'I'll start work on the door.' He knelt, looking for the door controls, while Ms. Madison started hitting the engines and casing of the lower part of the rocket with all her might.

'It's no use!' she cried out, 'all I've done is dent the casing! Can't we run?'

'You can't outrun a rocket blast!' the Green Man shouted back, as he prised the cover from the access panel. 'Our only hope is to close this door!'

Ms. Madison felt the growing heat of the rocket engines. Dropping the jemmy, she ran for the door, kneeling by the figure of the Green Man. He didn't even look up. She didn't speak, despite the fear that gnawed at her innards.

'Start running, Madison,' the Green Man spoke at last.

'Why?' she demanded. 'You said...?'

'I know what I said.' The Green Man laughed. 'But things have changed. In a moment, I'll connect the two wires that control these doors. They'll close.'

'Then surely we're safe?' the blonde was confused.

'This tunnel,' the Green Man explained, is the only outlet for the blast of the rocket engines. Without it, all that heat will have no-where to go. With the casing weakened by your efforts with the jemmy, the liquid fuel in the rocket should ignite on the launch-pad. There'll be a terrific explosion. Now!'

He touched the two wires together, and the great doors slid shut once more. A second action caused the circuits to burn out, before the Green Man joined Ms. Madison in retreating down the tunnels. A great roar filled the air, followed by a series of dull thumps that threw Ms. Madison to the ground. Pulled to her feet, she resumed her flight. Yet the doors did not give. When the two intrepid crime-fighters spilled out into the fresh air, they could smell fire. looking up, the girl saw that the fortress was ablaze from end to end.

On the flight to Rome, the Green Man explained events to Ms. Madison.

'The missile exploded on the launch pad, as I'd predicted. In order to get to Washington, it had to have a tremendously powerful rocket engine. The explosion had to find a way out.' The Green Man shook his head. 'I assumed that would be the doors.'

'But there was a blast-proof glass screen in the control room...' Ms. Madison blanched.

'It must have given way,' the Green Man nodded. 'They couldn't identify the bodies, but all the people are accounted for. Including Raoul.'

'Which goes to show,' Ms. Madison smiled, 'that you can't play with fire without getting burned.'

'And no-one,' the Green Man chuckled, 'can escape the vengeance of the Green Man.'

Twenty-two: Doom of a Discomfiter part fifteen

The Discomfiter laughed, as the 'phone was dragged from Ms. Madison's fingers. For her part, the lovely blonde could only look in mute horror at the 'phone.

'Well?' Raoul demanded.

'He won't do it!' she screamed, trembling from head to toe tears sprang, unbidden, to her blue eyes. 'He wants to see Washington destroyed!'

'Then tomorrow,' the Discomfiter chuckled wickedly, 'millions of people are going to die!!'

'For pity's sake!' Ms. Madison begged, 'let me call someone else!'

'So you can contact your friend in green?' the Discomfiter shook his head. 'No, Ms. Madison. Tomorrow, Washington DC will be erased from the map. And the next demand I make will be taken very seriously. Take her away!' He dismissed her with a wave of the hand.

Protesting, Ms. Madison was dragged away and thrown into her cell. There was nothing she could do save get down on her knees, clasp her hands and prayed as she had never prayed before, asking for just a sign. She fell asleep in this position. When she awoke, the first rays of the sun were filtering into her cell. She groaned, her knees and back hurting.

'Well,' a familiar voice broke in on her reverie. 'I never had you pegged for a devout person, Madison.'

There, framed by the open door of her cell, was the Green Man. In a moment, she was in his arms, sobbing gratefully.

'He's got a bomb!' she told him at last. 'He's going to destroy Washington!'

'With me,' the Green Man took her hand, leading his secretary. Ducking through a ventilation grille, he led Ms. Madison into to infrastructure of the building. At last they could stand once more, in a long concrete tunnel. They followed the tunel upwards, until they came to a large steel door.

While the Green Man saw to the door, Ms. Madison looked around. The tunnel had small scorch marks on the walls, as if someone had been using a blow-torch on it.

Then it hit her. But too late. At the same time the great steel door opened, revealing the base of the missile. Ms. Madison screamed. They were in the tunnel where the blast from the missile exhaust would be channeled. As she heard the humm of the rocket engines she could not help but scream...

Don't miss tomorrow's thrilling conclusion of The Green Man: Doom of a Discomfiter!

Twenty-one: Doom of a Discomfiter part fourteen

Ms. Madison came to in a brightly-lit prison cell, and discovered that she had been changed into a very short nightie, presumably by the evil Discomfiter. After a few minutes, the door opened, revealing the smiling form of the Discomfiter, now looking like Ming the Merciless.

'So...' he chuckled, looking down at the blonde's inadequately-clad form. 'You are at my mercy once more, Ms. Madison.'

'Know what,' Ms. Madison shot him a radiant smile, 'I didn't think you could be any uglier, but I was wrong.'

His hand cracked across Ms. Madison's face, as the evil man glowered at Ms. Madison. Two of his thugs pulled the blonde to her feet and dragged her into the corridor. The Discomfiter led the way into the control bunker at the heart of his fortress.

'Don't expect your pal in green to help you out this time,' Raoul laughed wickedly, 'this fortress is impregnable, and shielded against radiation.'

The mention of radiation caused the pretty blonde to start. Something in the Discomfiter's voice told her that this was not simply a figure of speech. Taking a step forward, she saw, in a huge pit in the centre of the control room, a vast rocket, surrounded by a blast-proof screen.

'That's right!' the Discomfiter laughed, seeing Ms. Madison's concern. 'You do well to fear me. That is a nuclear missle capable of hitting Washington. If my demands are not met within twenty-four hours, the capital of the United States of American will be nothing but radioactive dust! And you will contact the American Government to tell them this!'

With a heavy hear, Ms. Madison picked up the 'phone and called the White House. Recognised as the Green Man's secretary, she was able to tell the President that if Raoul was not paid one billion dollars, Washington would be destroyed.

The President, at his ranch in Texas, replied that he would call an emergency session of Congress the next day.

'But, Mr. President,' the lovely blonde protested, 'in twenty-four hours Washington will be destroyed!'

'Precisely,' the President laughed. 'And Congress will be there too. Lots of Democrats are going to die!'

Ms. Madison let out a little gasp of shock. If the Green Man didn't come through, then it seemed nothing could save Washington!

From the Archives: Why the Green Man?

Before he was the Green Man, the Green Man, then an international playboy, was good friends with a crusading anti-mob attorney. On holiday in England, the 'plane they were flying was destroyed by a bomb planted by the mob. The attorney and his wife were killed, together with the girl the Green Man was with. The only survivor, the Green Man stumbled into a church, passing out in the porch. As darkness claimed him, he saw a carving of the green man, an ancient symbol of rebirth. In that instant, the Green Man was born...

The Green Man wears a dark green trenchcoat, green hat, mask, scarf and boots in tribute to his namesake, the Green Man.

The Evil of Monty Bristow

Evil super-villain Monty Bristow yesterday switched the grape-juice in the communion cups of 700 Southern Baptist and Methodist churches for wine. Not just any old wine, mind, but the finest Port. Worse, he left behind evidence that this act was perpetrated by the Calvinist Millitants of the Founders' Movement. Only when one of the culprits was aprehended by the Green Man and tortured using poached eggs and old Fred Allen jokes was the true culprit unmasked.

In his insane quest for vengeance on all humanity, Monty Bristow, alias 'the Disturber' has struck at that most acrosanct of institutions, the Church. The world awaits with fear the next attack of the Disturber upon society. Where will Monty Bristow strike next, and can the Green Man stop him before the world is plunged into anarchy?

Twenty: Doom of a Discomfiter Part Thirteen

Newly transformed into a Ming the Merciless look-alike, the Discomfiter, together with the hapless minion who had been altered to resemble his old appearance, sought refuge in a vast fortress, overlooking the Bay of Naples. He hoped that, by flying to Europe, he might elude the vengeance of the Green Man.

The Green Man marshalled his forces for an assault on the Discomfiter's European base. Forced to give up his website, the Discmofiter ended his internet reign of terror by slandering John W. Loftus, in the hope that the Green Man would go after him instead, or at least be deflected from the trail.

But is wasn't to be. Ms. Madison had picked up the trail of the Discomfiter and, passing on the information to the Green Man, she booked a flight to Naples and a room in a five-star hotel overlooking the Bey (The Bey of Kordasia, a particularly handsome Arab potentate was staying in Naples at the time). However, as she boarded the 'plane, Ms. Madison became aware that something was wrong. She was the only passenger, apart from an arthritic mule. As she turned to make for the door, she heard the hissing of gas escaping the ventilators. Her head span, and she fell forward in a dead faint...

Sunday Supplement 2.

Today, The Vengeance of the Green Man brings you the second in our series on church services. This copy filed by Ms. L. Madison on her arrival in Buffalo:

The United Airlines Methodist Church, aircraft 'Meth537' flew this route overnight from Canberra, stopping several times for fuel, and to take on passengers. At 8:42 Pacific Standard time, the pastor and deacons retreat to pray and prepare for the service in business class. The result is that all passengers in business class (including the reporter) are woken up. Some straggle into economy class, while others try to sleep on. At quarter to ten local time, everyone is woken up, and handed hymbooks, as the service begins.

The service opened with 'Come let us join our friends above...' After which the Word of God was opened, the reading for the day being 'Jesus before Pilate'. This was follwed by 'Arise, my soul, arise'.

The prayers, delivered while the 'plane passed through turbulence, were particularly urgent. Specila prayers were offered for the towns over which we were passing.

The hymn 'Jesus who lived above the sky,' was sung with gusto, before the preaching of a sermon by Captain Lemuel Gulliver, former sailor and member of the seaman's mission to Lilliput. His there was 'Jesus the pilot of our souls', and nautical metaphors mixed freely with the aerial ones preferred by the denomination. At the end of the sermon, an invitation was given, and the Choir sang 'Come O thou traveller unknown'.

Futher prayers and exhortations followed until the church landed at Buffalo to the strains of 'Lo He comes with clouds descending.'

More News from No-where

The tiny Norfolk village of Little Hautbois, only a few miles from the metropolis of Stratton Strawless, saw the results of another of the Disturber's foul plans.

Cocker Spaniel Toots has been caught gorging herself on vegetables out of her owner's garden. She browses on lettuce and dug up and ate every carrot in the vegetable patch.

That's right. A predominantly vegetarian dog!

Monty Bristow declared that this proved the pre-fallen nature of dogs. Although this would have brought howls of anger from the evolutionist establishment, there was silence, and seven Scientific journals published his foundings. Mostly out of fear of the supervillain's flying spaghetti monster.

Nineteen: Doom of a Discomfiter part twelve

As O. Bucky Ackenbola struck out with his right bionic arm, the Green Man ducked. Bucky's arm made contact with a steel girder, shook, and dropped off. The assassin screamed at his lost arm, which replied:

"Look, mate, it wasn't me fixed me on, was it?" in a cockney accent.

O. Bucky replied that he wasn't to blame either, and while he was doing so, the Green Man sloshed him on the jaw, before smashing the loose bionic arm. O. Bucky tried to hit the Green Man again, only to impale a vast computer bank. The Deconvert screamed, as thousands of volts of electricity coursed through his body. The Green Man left, knowing that the smell of burning assassin clings to the clothing. He was glad, for the fortress exploded moments later.

The demise of O. Buck was announced on the Discomfiter's site by one of the Green Man's allies. The Discomfiter began to quake with feat, circling the wagons as the Green Man began to close in. He knew the days of his power were over.... In an attempt to disguise himself, the Discomfiter had a hapless Mexican Peasant surgically altered to resemble him, while he was given plastic surgery to make him appear a harmless old man.

Things went a bit wrong, however, and Raoul ended up looking like Ming the Merciless.

Creationism update 1: Monty Bristow's monster.

From the religion desk:
Yesterday, in a secular fury, Harris Williams, a disciple of Bobby Henderson, approached the office of Monty Bristow, alias the Disturber, about his proposal to endow a Chair of Inteligent design. He wrote to Mr. Bristow in the vein of Mr. Henderson's 'Flying Spaghetti Monster' parody, demanding that Mr. Bristow also endow a Chair of FSM-ism.

When Monty Bristow granted him an interview, no-one was more surprised than Harris Williams. Still, filled with confidence in his abilities, this atheist went in to see Monty Bristow. As he entered the huge room, Monty Bristow rose to greet him.

"Why, Mr. Williams," the super-villain smiled. "So, you believe in a Flying Spaghetti Monster, do you?"

Harris decided to press the parody and agreed with Bristow. He declared his belief that everything was created by a Flying Spaghetti Monster, although no-one had ever seen it, and it could pass through matter.

"So," Bristow smiled, voice l0w. "No-one has ever seen a Flying Spaghetti Monster, have they?"

Williams' eyes opened in fear, as a huge trap-door in the floor opened. Something huge and formless rose from the pit beneath. Two eyes on stalks looked straight at Mr. Williams, while huge, slimy tentacles waved. The smell of Italian food filled the air.

"No... no!" the atheist blanched. "It cannot be! You don't exist!"

Monty Bristow laughed still more loudly.

"Oh, it exists, Mr. Williams!" he cried in unholy triumph, "it exists! Believe in it, believe in the terror of the Disturber!"

Closer and closer came the ghastly thing.

"NO!" Williams screamed in terror. "I don't believe in you! It was a joke!"

"Believe or disbelieve," Bristow laughed. "This flying spaghetti monster is real!" His laughter became louder, madder. "But this flying spaghetti monster created nothing! I, Monty Bristow, created it! And I control it!

Williams tried to run, but found himself rooted to the spot.

"It cannot create, only destroy!" Monty Bristow gestured to the quivering creature. "Kill him, my pretty!"

The great slimy beast enveloped the screaming, immoblised Williams.

Eighteen: Doom of a Discomfiter part eleven

It was at that precise moment that Ms. Madison realised (informed by one of our readers) that she was not, in fact holding the Green Man's arm, but one of those left behind by Deconvert. With a cry of disgust, she flung it from her. It hit the Discomfiter's blonde friend before she could draw her gun. As she was busily being disgusted at the unattached and rapidly cooling limb, Ms. Madison overpowered her, the Green Man being too much of a gentleman to do so. Disarmed, she was forced to disclose the location of the Discomfiter's drug factory, an old British fortress.

Despite Ms. Madison's wishes, the Green Man decided to go in alone. Moving between the trees that surrounded the old fort at twilight (the rest of the time they moved to the road to sun themselves), he overpowered the guards, slipping in through an open window.

There, watching a vast mechanical process, was none other than Raoul himself, surrounded by new goons, one of whom looked a little nibbled. Smiling, the Green Man listened to the panicked words of the Discomfiter. His men assured him that, in the fortress, he was safe. And so, with a laugh, the Green Man dropped from the rafters, knocking two of the goons out by smashing their heads together.

"You can't win!" Raoul laughed.

"No, Raoul," the Green Man spoke softly, his voice dripping with menace. "It is you that cannot win, you that are finished. Did Deconvert see you today?"

"Maybe," Raoul chuckled, "you think he is 'armless?"

A trapdoor opened below Raoul, who dropped into the darkness. Before the Green Man could follow, a vast, sharpened blade swung towards his head. Ducking it, the Green Man turned, to see O. Bucky Ackenbola, now equipped with two shiny bionic arms, a murderous rage in his eyes...

From The Education Desk

From our Education correspondent 23/08/2006:
There is consternation in the academic world today, with the news that super-villain and multi-millionaire businessman Monty Bristow is to endow a Chair in Intelligent Design Biology at Oxbridge College (formerly Pudding Norton Polytechnic). Professor for promoting Public Confusion about the Sciencies at the University, Richard Doorhinge, declared:

"This is ridiculous, an abuse of the name scientist unequalled since I seduced three blonde biology students and claimed it was an experiment. Thse people should be driven from from the universities. Remember, it was these people who persecuted Gallileo."

Dr. Pinkie, speaking from behind bars at a secure physciatric unit described Intelliegent Design as: "Almost as insane as me!" He tried to say more, only the guards mistook it for an attempted escape and stunned him with tazers.

Mr. Bristow, alias 'The Disturber', asked to explain his actions laughed manically, declaring:

"The only purpose of the Disturber is to break the consensus, to tear apart the bonds of convention that hold society together! I will tear apart debate in the University! Hahahaha!"

Having said his piece, Monty Bristow left to open another of his projects, the first Atheist school in Britain.

Seventeen: Doom of a Discomfiter part ten

At the last minute, as O. Bucky lifted his sharpened girder, the french windows looking onto the balcony disintegrated, admitted the cloaked, hatted and masked figure of the Green Man, a long-barreled revolver in his hand.

"You have filled the cup of vengeance, Deconvert." The Green Man took a step closer to the hapless hitman.

O. Bucky lunged at the Green Man with his sharpened girder. Side-stepping, the Green Man took a firm hold on the girder with one gloved hand, twisting it. With a cry of pain, the hitman dropped his girder. A heavy fist smashed into his jaw, as the Green Man took a step forward.

"You can't win, Green Man," Deconvert snarled, wiping bloood from his jaw. "One day, we'll get your girl! She cannot avoid our attentions!"

"Hey!" Ms. Madison piped up, outraged. "I am not 'his girl!' I'm his secretary." She sounded hurt, pouting slightly.

"Exactly!" the Green Man's fist slammed into O. Bucky's jaw with the force of an express train.

Deconvert staggered back, his unibrow fluttering to the ground. Ms. Madison gasped, recognising the waiter from the night before. Deconvert laughed mockingly, his hand going inside his jacket. Before he could draw whatever he had from under his jacket, the Green Man had socked him of the jaw again, knocking the man to the floor. Falling on his sharpened girder, O. Bucky managed to cut off both his arms. Weeping like a baby, he ran from the room. A grateful Ms. Madison gravitated to the Green Man's left shoulder.

"Excellent!" a female laughed from somewhere, clapping her hands, "superb!"

A girl in a black evening gown walked into the room. Still laughing, she sat on the bed.

"Now," she purred. "I come from the Discomfiter..."

Ms. Madison held the Green Man's arm closer.

Sixteen: Doom of a Discomfiter part nine

The Green Man and Ms. Madison returned from Florida. Raoul, now panicking, told his agents to beware. His blog entry told them that they had to be careful, to look out for the Green Man. The chilling reply:

You cannot escape the vengeance of the Green Man.

Raoul's hitman, 'A Deconvert' followed close behind. In a desperate attempt to foil the Green Man, he struck out at Green Man's agents. An organ grinder was attacked with a sharpened pogo-stick by the evil and immoral hitman. He was only just able to escape.

Ms. Madison was in danger once more, as the most visible of the Green Man's agents. Her lovely form and face were recognised by one of Raoul's spies, and 'A Deconvert' moved in. Opening the door to a tall man in a moustache, she realised too late that one of the Discomfiter's men had tracked her down. O. Bucky Ackenbola laughed as he closed in on her, drawing a sharpened steel girder from under his cape. Ms. Madison tried to flee, but he blocked the way. All the lovely, spirited blonde could do was scream...

Enter: - The Disturber!

21:48 BST, Scotland Yard Report (stolen from the desk of Superintendent Horace Madison).
Monty Bristow, alias The Disturber, announced today the first shocking secret in his inexplicable campaign of revenge against society. His first blow was the production of conclusive proof that there was more than one gunman in Dallas in November 1963. There were in fact four men on the grassy knoll, one mafia hitman, a CIA gunman, a disgruntled Cuban exile and a member of the Ku Klux Klan. Accordingly, every conspiracy theory about the assassination was correct.

The various groups believing these theories have banded together to bring down the US Government only to realise that everyone involved in the plot is either dead or retired. Freed from having to waste time propagating this theory, hundreds of people begin to ask serious questions about government, or kill themselves as they have nothing better to do. As Bristow threatens to make even more revelations, Scotland Yard are at a loss to track him down.

He could be anywhere, disturbing the settled order of things, persuading Michael Moore not to make any more films, Bill Clinton to tell everything about his Presidency, Tony Blair to tell the truth once in a while, the leaders of the Arab nations to stop blaming Israel and the West for everything.

Who knows where the Disturber will strike next?

Side-lights on Politics 2: Christianity

By our special correspondent 23/08/2006:
Yesterday, at St. Constantius Church Hall, Lesser Pudding, the new Christian Political organisation, the British Union of Christian Groups (BUG), held its opening press conference. Present were the group's committee: The Rev. Harold Woodshed (Great Snoring); Sir Newton Newton-Newton, former pencil-carrier to the Duke of Edinburgh; the Rev. Uther Pencildragon. The chairman was Monty Bristow (come again, wasn't he chairman for the atheists, too?), rich man and the group's main backer (this is the same man!). The Rev. Harold Woodshed welcomed the gentlemen of the press:

Woodshed: Welcome, ladies and gentlemen of the press. It's so lovely to see you all here today. I hope you'll bear with us today before the ladies bring in the cakes.

Sir Newton (smiling): And there are some very nice cakes there.

Woodshed: Well, we're tired (yawns) of the way Christianity is ignored in this country. The British Union of Christian Groups intends to make a contribution, in a very real sense, to British politics.

Press: Will you be running candidates at the next election?

Woodshed: Goodness me, no! We'll leave that to the politicians. They're doing a really difficult job and they need our support.

Press #2: Will you be issuing voter guides, then?

Sir Newton: Why would voters need guiding. They're not stupid, you know. Why, I remember saying to Phillip...

Woodshed: If we issued voter guides, that might upset politicians who are, as I said, doing a very difficult job under a great deal of pressure. Pickets and angry letters do not help the image of Christianity...

Sir Newton (cupping his ear): What's that about cricket? Dashed bad show with that umpire, don't you know...

Press: So what will you do?

Pencildragon: Write letters. Lots of letters, disappointed letters which say we love the politicians but are disappointed with them. And we'll say angry things about them to our wives and friends.

Press #2: Won't your followers be called BUG-ers, which sounds a bit rude?

Woodshed: Oh.

Press: Mr. Chairman, didn't you chair the atheists' meeting in the Longe Legges yesterday?

Bristow: Yes, but don't tell my wife I was in there.

Press: How can you back both groups?

Bristow (laughing): Hahaha! For I, Monty Bristow, will have my revenge! I am the Disturber! I shall pit one group in society against another. Soon there will be no society, only the war of all on all! I, Monty Bristow will have my revenge on the society that rejected me! (Sinks through the stage, laughing)

Sir Newton (who has fallen asleep): What?

Woodshed: While it seems that Monty Bristow is in reality a cartoonish super-villain, we must reach out to cartoonish super-villains. In a very real sense, the cartoonish super-villain is our neighbour... (drones on until all slumber, before falling alseep himself).

Fifteen: Doom of a Discomfiter part eight

Having escaped the clutches of the Discomfiter, the Green Man and Ms. Madison checked into a different five-star hotel (different rooms, of course), to plot their next move. The news came in that a new shipment was coming in, announced through the Discomfiter site. Bringing in new allies, aware of the evils of the Discomfiter, they prepared for a bit of piracy on the high seas.

Hoisting the flag of Edward Teach, a powerful boat went out to meet the shipment, manned by volunteers, as well as the Green Man's agents of vengeance. The boat was stopped five miles off the Florida coast and sunk with all hands, causing the temperature of the Discomfiter and his foul allies to rise. His agent in Miami, code-name 'Antitheist' was taken prisoner and tortured with a blunt corkscrew, three quarts of butter and a Dachshund. He told all, before he was allowed to escape and tell the quaking Discomfiter of his fast-approaching fate.

Raoul realised that his time was running out...

Side-lights on Politics 1: Atheism

By our special correspondent 22/08/2006:

Yesterday, at the Longe Legges Hotel, Pudding Norton, the British Atheists Together for Secularism (BATS), a new political association announced its formation. The press conference was addressed by Rodney Key, lecturer in philosophy and fashion at Great Snoring Community College; Dr. Sheddie Pinkie, research scientist in cosmetics; and Wallace Williams, journalist. Monty Bristow, rich man and main backer, chaired the conference:

Rodney Key: in protest at the increasing inluence of religion in politics, we are forming a new political association to campaign for atheist candidates at elections. This means that we can promote true moral ethics, rather than the false and evil ethics promoted by Christianity. For example, Calvin...

Dr. Pinkie (interrupting): What moral systems? Look, Rod, atheism has no foundation for moral absolutes. By freeing ourselves from moral absolutes, we are able to free men from the tyranny of laws.

Key: You can't say that!

Pinkie: Just did, chum. Look, I don't want some Puritan telling me who I can and can't have sex with. What right do you have to judge me?

Key: You left your wife when she was pregnant, forcing her to live off the dole while she brought up your children. According to the law...

Pinkie: The Law's a bore, Rod, and you know it. She could have aborted them. I should be able to have them killed. They're only cells. At least my first wife had the good grace to stand by the window when I pushed her out...

Key: No! You're evil!

Pinkie: Says who? I say what I've done is right. The sole good is my good. There is no will but my will, hahaha!

Wallace William: Moving on, our programme is that Theism is outmoded and should be replaced by a rational system of morals.

Pinkie: Pah! What morals? I make my own morals.

Key: No, morals must be decided by the majority.

Pinkie: I say the majority's wrong. The strong make their own morality...

(There is a fight, and Pinkie is bound, gagged and thrown into the back of a Police Car.)

Bristow: Can we have some questions now?

Silly little man: Is Dr. Pinkie sane?

Bristow: What's sane?

Man: You tell me? Are you?

(he is dragged out by burly stewards.)

At this point the press conference ended, as the Longe Legges, a notorious leg-show was raided by the Police. Tomorrow our special correspondent will be attending a meeting of the rival group, the British Union of Christian Groups (BUG).

Fourteen: Doom of a Discomfiter part seven

The bull came closer and closer, its eyes fixed of the writhing, partially-clad form of Ms. Madison (which gave it one thing in common with everyone else). Before it reached her, however, a tall figure, dressed all in green, leapt into the ring. Sweeping off his cloak, the Green Man called 'hey-toro!' to the Bull (which was Mexican).

Raoul, rising from his throne, yelled, 'kill them!' to his goons. The goons, expecting an easy kill, laughed and settled back to watch the bull-fight (also being Mexican), readying their guns in case the figure in Green should win.

The bull charged the Green Man, who nimply leapt aside, causing the Bull to smash into the supports of the balcony that the goons were standing on. While the bull gored the hapless goons, the Green Man untied Ms. Madison, and with one bound, they were free...

Cursing, the Discomfiter ordered the liquidation of any suriving goons and the Bull. That night, at Raoul's mansion, beef was on the menu. The Green Man, however, preferred a cold dinner.

Vengeance.