Dear reader once again, may we apologise for this cheapened version of this series. Suffice to say with the ‘Corona-crisis’ it’s very hard to get good journalists these days.

We carry on, where we left off…..the pcbycp staff, caught in an embarrassing situation with The Clintons, Prince Andrew, Fergie and her Majesty the Queen….

 

The Queen held up a pile of letters, newspaper clippings and beneath it all a hastily written demand notice made  from cut-up news print. A plastic bag disgorged its contents, a pearl necklace, uncut gems and gold-leaf scrapings from the Crown itself. “ I’ll have that” and the Queen, stuffed the jewellery into her pockets, whilst reading the copious files that bulged from a battered OHMS envelope. 

‘See, she’s up to it again’! We glanced at the contents, ‘DEAR P.M, unless you cough up, we’ll spill the BEENS on your DIRTY TRICKS and who paid for your pre-selection”

“Dear Mr Ex President. I know what YOUSE and Jeff really got up to in the Bahamas,  and that aint skin-diving either. I have all of Jeff’s photos. I even have the ones Jeff took of you in the Swiming pool with G, V, D, B, A, and R. Send in piles of 1 million each. CASH ONLY! BIG RED. 

We could tell by the spelling errors and gramatical imperfections that it could’ve only come from one hand. 

We knew in an inistant Fergie had been running an extortion ring. That was a given, but the next file threw us. In a special box marked, ‘MOST SECRET’, a bag of Bit-Coin, a phial marked, ‘Scripal’, another marked ‘Polonium’, and a poster of Vladimir Putin riding a goat, with an AK 47 on his shoulder. The photo was pock-marked with bullet holes and a love-heart scrawled in blood with the initials ’VLAD” !

‘THAT’S IT’!! The Queen, shovelled them all into her bag. ‘Tell M15 to clean up this mess, and have Fergie bought with the two Awstwalians to Balmoral by Friday’! 

Turning to us, 

“UNSEE THIS! And GET THE RIGHT ROYAL FUCK OUT!

WE bowed, ‘Yes yer Majesty’, and in a flash Her  Majesty turning to the Clintons, “Pathetic!  Go find a  boat to sail on WHITE-WATER somewhere!’ And then, she was off. 

One letter fell from her cache, we picked it up. It had a crest “Government House Canberra”. Perhaps this was our ticket to freedom? Inside,  a request from her son Prince Charles for a Governor General-ship to Australia. 

The first sentence revealed all; “Mumsy. That funny old man with the silly hat Mr Kerr promised”! 

WE all had a laugh. 

“As if”, Scoffed Ces, but was it fancy? The next sentence left no doubt to the depths of royal intrigue, ‘If I can jet Johnny to get rid of that awful socialist P.M I’d make a most Excellent GG, and besides Mumsy I know what makes them tick’?

‘Sounds more like a ticking Time-bomb’, sighed Ces, ‘what’s the date on that’?, 

“Nov 10th 75’, I forensically replied, 

‘But what’s this’? A note scrawled on the bottom right hand corner. It was dated 11 Nov 2019, “ just a reminder Mumsy I still want that job in Australia, with Harry causing such a ruckus, Camilla needs fresh pastures!” 

Instinctively we only knew one thing, faced with being stuck in room with the Clintons, we knew that in minutes we’d be up to our armpits in scandal. I surveyed the room. There in the corner of the hallway was a laundry shute. Using an idiom I knew the Cintons would not understand, I whispered to Ces, ‘Hey Ces, did I leave my copy of “A Town like Alice” in the hallway’? In an instant he knew I was talking ‘Neville Shute’ and winked. 

Buying time, I pointed to the light fixture on the balcony, “Is that real gold”?, The Clintons made a rush with screwdrivers, a jemmy and wire clippers. We raced for the shute, dove headfirst and slid down and down and down to land in the big laundry hopper, just as it was being unloaded by the house-boy Umbutu and his brother Umslopogaas. 

We’d like to tell you more, but Umbutu was well connected, got us in touch with the nice Chinese man who Ces sold his kidneys to when we were stuck in New Guinea when Prince Andrew was fiddling with the idea of a posting to one of his further flung colonies. And before you could say “Huwaei” and for the price of a guarantee that 5G would be fitted to our office typewriter with an unconditional guarantee of free servicing by a qualified tech expert we were given free passage out of Johannesberg. A narrow squeak, cos we felt there was gonna be trouble.  The hotel we were staying in was only a drop-punt from the old stack of tyres at the local tip. As Ces said; ‘A pearl necklace on Fergie was one thing but we don’t want the proverbial ‘necklacing’ to go much further’! We all had a laugh, you had to hand it to Fergie.

And so via circuitous adventure we made it back to pcbycp headquarters. 

Knowing in this escapade, that we’d lited the lid, and found it all rotten, rotten to the core.

Was this the state of leadership within our society we pondered? Could this get any worse? 

An insistent knock broke us from our reverie, and in walked the nice Chinese man. Clearly our ordeal was not over…. yet.

Is this the end of the pcbycp’s current annus horribilis? 

Stay tuned for our next episode which could alteratively be called; 

‘Do we CC the GG’?  or “Huwei!…. and what for’?