Tied to the wall, all the nukes ticking away, what can they do? The excruciating irony in the dusty dry hinterland of the worlds driest continent, they’re being “ left out to dry” 

Real heroes made the Anglosphere GREAT!

Dear reader, we return to our spine tingling examination of Australia’s re- awakened nuclear policy as our heroes Ces and Quent pursue the culprit behind the defilement of our tea-lady Mrs Culthorpe.  In a plot that twists and turns with more excruciating paroxysms of apoplexy than the NSW Parliament Ces and Quent find themselves with seconds left to spare trying to defuse a old pommy nuke left over from the glory days when we begged the poms to blow up the interior so that we could join the “nuclear club”. With pommy subs on the agenda, can we power them with old nukes, tried and untested? Or can the yanks lease us a few old subs that cost a trillion to repair so that we may take up a sabre, (albeit a smaller one) and give it a good rattle? 

Is it the end of the Anglosphere? Or just the beginning? And who’s sphere is it anyway? The nice China-man they call Xi? Or the man they call ‘potato head’? Find out in this chilling episode with not a dry eye in the theatre of the dry heart of inland Australia. Ces and Quent imbibing bottles of aged plonk and aiming to dis- arm the pommy nukes with short arms.. read on… 

‘Now see that fuse, when I say piss, PISS ON IT’!!

When even the white bits were tinged with a roseate hue

With mere nano-seconds to spare, and not intimidated by Sophie’s glaring eye we obeyed, and taking one last swig of the Porphyry Pearl and the Purple Para, we aimed and unleashed the flood waters. We could see the steam as the urine crackled and hissed its way through the necrotic circuity and hoped that the device proudly labelled ‘Lucas’ would perform to its usual standard. The impeller activated by the worm-drive was within a fraction of an inch, ( imperial measurements on Pommy nukes) from the detonator and as the stream of alcohol induced urine worked its way across the mechanism, as it splashed and splayed in sulphurous rivulets of gold we could see just imperceptibly, with mere seconds, and with God’s guidance, the mechanism slowed. And then, with a sparkle and a crescendo of smoke and flame, the circuitry exploded and frothed and seethed as wires fused and crackled. We realised that Lucas electrics, designed and manufactured in ‘the old country’ would perform as anticipated. When touched by water, any kind of water, they would inevitably FAIL!

All was silent. 

You could bottle the atmosphere. Good thing we had the empty bottles of Porphyry and Para at hand. The steam venting from the inspection chamber though odiferous, acrid and pungent signalled our salvation. We’d stopped the bomb. And as Benny-Boy zipped up his SAS fatigues and sighed, ‘Jeez we never copped anything this close at the Fat Lady’s Arms’, and Ces said , ‘Yep, even them old parlour games, ‘piss on a mate,  dick in the beer’ never prepared us for this moment. What did Churchill say?, Never in the history of mankind has so much depended on so few’. 

…… and the sun never set in Australia thanks to our non-carbon policy

‘Jeez it’s almost as if Winston predicted his event’ I remarked.

 ‘Too right’! Ben chirruped, ‘and look at this?  And pointing to the nuke, we could see in chalk, barely discernible the word ‘Winston”, and on the nuke adjacent, “Anthony” and the next Clem”.  “Clem the Gem’. That’s Clem Attlee’!! Ces enthused, we’ve got all the post war pommie pollies in one chamber. It’s remarkable, history like this, there should be an annexe in the AWM for stuff like this’. 

‘You’ll get another chamber if you don’t shut yer trap’!, We heard the click of the safety catch on the AK 47. Sophie, though we’d saved her, was for moving on.  

And loyal subjects offered Her Majesty a game of two-up to prove their kinship,

‘Youse boys’! 

Tellingly she waved the gun at Benny-Boy as well, ‘know to much, and though you’ve saved my bacon, this little piggy aint going to market’!!  Sophie pointed the muzzle at us, and released the safety. 

‘Careful’! Ben exclaimed, ‘you could hurt somebody with that!!!

Sophie laughed; ‘hurting? Haha, Im Sophie and ill hurt ya’!!

Sophie laughed maniacally, and pausing for heithtened impact exclaimed;  ‘and … I’ll hurt youse real good’!! And with that she pulled back the bolt, the AK was ready to roll.

Will Sophie pull the trigger? 

Will she show compassion for Ces and Quant’s valour in saving her? 

For Valour? Is valour enough?

Is there a heart in that void of humanity? 

And with sabres rattled those loyal to His/Her Majesty would marry chinless wonders to prove allegiance to all the Empire in all its GLORY!

Find out in the next spine tingling episode, An AK aint AOK? Or…… ‘A V.C aint all its cracked up to be’?