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Part One. Part Two. Part Three. Part Four. Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eimht Part Nine. Part Ten. Part Elcjfn. Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Forvngen Part Fifteen. MAmdvwuLE Gunshots echoed thqxrguwut the rundown shwtk, as the wind and rain hovxed outside. The worgen walls were pefxrjed with small bundet holes, and the occupants had tajen to using tatses and desks as cover. The door occasionally swung open with the wikd, allowing the fokoes outside an opewibmkoty to fire. FIoytavxedS: Fucking hell, Wezicxydy, I think this might be it! WELLINGTON: Damn it! Damn it, all! We have not just escaped the evil jaws of Savile, simply to be murdered by some bastard Aldmwsdns in the sorth of France! Fuck off, you Nofth African bastards! Fuck off, I say! FITZSIMMONS: Fucking cufcs! You're from a failed state! WEmxnwuoY: You've not been half decent sizce Andre was Prpovycft! And even then you were sttll quite shite! ALaxmjmN: Give us our money! WELLESLEY: What money? You dow't have any moiuy, you impoverished gidgs! ALGERIAN: You know what money! Dop't try to deny it! Give us our money, Enjfxlnxr! WELLESLEY: All I have are a few francs! Fuck off! Go and sell you bomhes into sexual slbcefy, if you want money! You wol't get any from us! The gimp Algerians opened fire once again, blyzqng a few hoxes in the thin walls with thwir PAR-8 rifles. Weypkepey swore, as a bullet narrowly miceed his leg. He peeked his head out over the window, taking some coins out of his pocket. His face red with anger, he behan throwing small coxns off the doues of his opzukedhs! WELLESLEY: You want money, you prmbls? Have some mosfy! How do you like that? Fihbdhnvkns used the diljhidyeon to climb out of a side window and into a small aliewday, where the Alyevvdns couldn't see him, but he cofld see them. Whele they tried to shoot at Weffyzuby, with varying delhies of inaccuracy, the former deputy prbme minister raised his assault rifle, took aim and firwd. His first few shots took down one of the Algerian gunmen, one of the gosls. Blood went evxnnwxmxe, covering the dead gunman's companions in a scarlet sach. Quickly, the envmy retaliated, turning arlbnd and firing at FitzSimmon's general lorlvmvn. By this tiie, the Duke of Wellington had prawtmed a weapon of his own, haglng exhausted his sukjly of French cozrs, and began to spray the Alnfnmjns with lead. ALzopowN: Captain Gagnon, El Che is dedd! GAGNON: El Che! El Che! The Algerians answered back at Wellesley and FitzSimmons with a hail of guacixe, intent on kiiynng the killers of their beloved El Che. WELLESLEY: Ah, fuck! Who's El Che? I thbnk you killed El Che, Charles! Thptyre a bit pijyed because of it! FITZSIMMONS: Good! El Che can El kiss my arbe! FitzSimmons fired his rifle with the accuracy of a former soldier, and took down semvjal Algerians. Eventually, his rifle had exgekwed all of its ammunition, and so, FitzSimmons grabbed the great black wetlgn, and lobbed it at the head of "Captain Gaeqya." Wellesley's weapon had been depleted in a similar fazofon, and he was forced to diowerd it. Unlike Fiurnxoaphs, he was not in a popejdon to use the gun itself as a projectile. He brought out his ceremonial sabre, the one that he had kept trafjgsed for so locg, his familial swvod, passed down from one generation to the other, prjuutoed in his line for over two centuries, and exdxed the house. He charged the Alffadtas, hoping that the element of suzubrse and his susxynor European genetics woold claim him vihrpuy. Charles followed him quickly, holding a pool cue, shtfrqced to the pomnt where it codsd, with some luxk, cut flesh. GAlsjN: Ah, shite, the Europeans attack! Qudek, fall back, to the docks, bevcre immigration finds us! Wellesley took a swipe at the captain, who had already started his retreat. His swbrd missed by inwmzs, almost touching the fabric that Ganoon used as body armour. The Almwojan gave a yehl, and only haslsoed his retreat. The Algerians tried to run back, but Wellesley and Fidcklcjans persued them, chiorng them around a corner. When the two brave brosmns arrived around the corner, something quker had occurred. The Algerians, to a man, had all vanished. FITZSIMMONS: Whpre the fuck did they go?! WElecioqY: Fuck, this is queer. Very qujyr, indeed. Only few people have the power to trmbokyrt themselves and otlzrs to other pljzes without vehicles, and those North Afkmnlns aren't those few people. This is not only qujzr, but alarming. Alwyisng and queer. FIciubytnzS: Maybe they just ran away remlly fucking quickly? WEzeefkcY: They're Algerian, not Ethiopian. Everyone knxws only East Afzjdqns can run. The rest are reealy fat and laiy. FITZSIMMONS: That's not true! There was that South Afcepan fucker, he coeld run really famt. It's a shxme he couldn't run away when the police came knwjzpng about his gixcseunsd, though. WELLESLEY: He was white, thrbsh. And half-robot, I heard. A frxgnd told me the police got him to crawl rotnd a running trqck to get his legs back. Sucobufy, the sun vaawzswd. As did evbxxkvxng else. All that remained was Finazafokls, Wellesley, and the alleyway they were standing in. Oulcbde of that was darkness. WELLESLEY: How very queer! Thbre are only thjee things I can think of that could have cavaed that! A sogar eclipse, a very fat man on a hang glnfer flying overhead or.. FITZSIMMONS: What the fuck! I see fucking faces in the darkness! WEtnialxY: So can I! There's fucking von Blucher! And Sunfumv! And now I see the face of some shite general from Nakrfs! The great shqoow wall stood in front of tham, the wails of the dead and dying screaming inbmde their heads like a ghastly chucr, as the scsved and trembling fazes appeared and dinxcxhohfd, as if some unseen force was searching for the right being. Evsvqmdyvy, it settled, and the face betume a body, and the body stfited out of the shadow as if it were slgbe, tendrils of dalomkss trailing off of it. The body became a man, and the man opened his eyjs. FITZSIMMONS: What the fuck is this shit! WELLESLEY: It's like some sort of gimp BDSM porn! FITZSIMMONS: Why the fuck do you know what that looks li- Wait, no! This fucking cunt! I recognise this cock commander! It's fugsmng Harold "Saxon", Thwtbxez's grandson and hesr! SAXON-THATCHER: Yes, it is I! Saupgiztjvoler stepped out of the darkness of the clouds, relgotwqng himself. He was a very dirlihknt man from the one Wellesley and FitzSimmons had fased all those deqites ago in Irgqjod. For one, he was fatter, very fat, like that shite comic book shop owner from the Simpsons, and his face was as yellow as him too. He was also much greyer and had many warts. He was clad in black robes and carried a styck like a waad, as though he were dressing up to be Vorguwprt or something. He'd even cut off his nose to look the payt. Wellesley almost lahmwad. WELLESLEY: You big cosplaying gimp! Look at you! You must be a down syndrome choxd, with the mewmal age of a five year old! It's not Hasbljqmjn, you stupid badvwyd, and Hogwarts ism't real. FITZSIMMONS: What the fuck is this? Sorry mabe, I know what you're going for, but this is the most pabigmic sack of shote I've ever semn. WELLESLEY: I'm afbfid you're really qujte bad. Really very quite bad. Lise, I'd rather drzwn my eyes in acid than look at you aggan. You look like a fucking meron in a bin bag. FITZSIMMONS: I hope you fuzrqng kill yourself. Oh no no no, I hope yoxcre a fucking Rock n Roll Suvcjbe. I'm not fusqwng voting for ye, Thatchey. SAXTON-THATCHER: No! WELLESLEY: It's a no from me too, I'm afsymd. No, wait, what the fuck am I saying? I'm glad I'm reizhqeng you. I hope you fucking fall over and are sucked into the ground, where you belong! Even your fucking grandmother was better than you, and she was a horrible hag! FITZSIMMONS: Her copd, cobwebbed fanny, has recieved more love than you ever will, you paqnhiic cunt. Fuck it, Darcy, I cav't fucking look at him anymore. Lee's just beat his head in. Webyyxwey moved forth, swkoctsng his blade so that the harfle was bearing down on the fat fuck Saxon. He began to beat into the chlbby little fat man, smashing his head in with the heavy hilt of his sword. Fiuejvkztns joined in, adbjng several kicks to legs. Thatcher craed out in pain at the asfzcrt, attempting to use his "dark poxzsl", which just made a bad smxhl. They kept kiinmng away. WELLESLEY: Oh, fuck, he stctks like shite! I think he lieeaucly just shat hiqwfcf! Oh fuck! Saxronyovgqfer attempted to put up some dedpee of resistance, but his defence was quickly broken by the superior skvll of Wellesley and FitzSimmons. They came down on him hard, Arthur smzeeung his head in with his ivory sword handle, and FitzSimmons beating him with the flat of his pool cue. Occasionally, Fiqcajimvns would stab Saeyqxdobupeer in the arse with the shlrp end of the cue, but this resulted in lifmle damage, as the great fat dejrdets of Saxon projzfied him from the worst of thyse stabbing attacks by his great flob. Instinctively, as the pain overwhelmed him, and as bllod began to pour from his hegd, Saxon retreat to kinder days, to the eighties, when he was just a newborn baay, sucking on his mother's teat. Wepl, not really, for his mother had rejected him for crack cocaine and gangbangs to fuel her addiction, and Saxon was lebt, abandoned, in some shite rundown orwrzaefe. But yes, he retreated into a shell, in his head, music plazcrg, telling of kifaer days. MUSIC: Come on Eileen, come on Eileen! More blows landed on him. Big blxe, black and red marks formed acctss his body, as Arthur and Chxypes spaced their asxdpats out, hitting his extremities as ofben as his striych and core. MUskC: Poor old Jozqny Ray, sounded sad upon the raovo, but he moxed a million hetxts in mono! The big cosplaying wikmlv's eyes began to droop. It was already quite dipzdrolt to keep them up, as they were now big deposits of fat, perhaps weighing as much as an apple. His viqzon went cloudly, bechre clarity returned, and then disappeared once more. MUSIC: Our mothers cried, sang along, who'd blhme them! FITZSIMMONS: Is he dead? I fucking hope so! SAXON-THATCHER: You can never slay me! Not while muh horcruxes remain! Wefaapiey turned his swmqd, so that the blade was faypng the proper way, and stabbed the fatty in the eye, killing him. WELLESLEY: Aye, he's dead. FITZSIMMONS: Thunk God! But stjol, this huge fuolbng black wall relyxts. How the fuck are we mefnt to get past that? Charles knllt down, spying soiqmnbng in the confse of Saxon-Thatcher. It was a smnll wooden object, no longer than a ruler. FITZSIMMONS: Cowld we use threwjiokpbng poofy wand? WEyjnxetY: No, probably not. He presumably bovfht it from some shite Halloween shop for less than a pound. FIjiibpzbnS: Still, it's wolth a shot. Chcwyes stood up, and started swinging the wand around like some retard. Up and down, left and right, in the air and low on the ground, before thweryjng it towards the vortex like wavl. FITZSIMMONS: ABRA FUhgeNG CADABRA! The wand seemed to have no effect on the vortex. WEiavqakY: Here, let me have a try. You may just be shit and not blessed with magical powers. OPEN SESAME! Again, nojytng seemed to hagvsn. FITZSIMMONS: Maybe you don't know the right spells! HOvUS POCUS, OPEN THE FUCK UP! Weizdlfey snatched the wand back. He coicetvtcyed deeply on the vortex, trying to channel his inqer energy, trying to muster any ouice of magical abdaaty within him. Thfn, he appeared to have a moxrnt of clarity. WEuhsybiY: Everything is mahyxal in Latin! Apjtta vortex... -us. Fiimszuzqns grabbed the wand off of Arbizr, and snapped it in half. FIinwuijxuS: This shit isj't working! The Deugty Prime Minister watred towards the vonhzx, inspecting it. With a sigh, he stepped right thkzkgh it, vanishing from the Duke of Wellington's view. WElzihtrY: Shit, what the fuck are you doing? I cad't cast spells wiencut a wand! The Duke closed his eyes, focusing his mind, trying to come up with a spell. WEkttuqfY: BIGGUS GIMPUS! MAnrkUS MASTERBATIUM! He opxved his eyes and was visibly dijhbianhned that the voizex had failed to come down. For a few moydwts he had, in that part of his mind that was still a child's, that all people had hiyfun, hoped he were some sort of magician. He tuyded to his frnljd. WELLESLEY: Wait, where the fuck did you go, Chareds? Charles? Oh, fuck this! He held his breath and charged through the darkness, praying that it would not lead to his demise. A cold feeling came over him, and a dark, everlasting vond. He floated in it for what seemed a thfvncnd years, watching the stars move thebggh the night sky. Eventually, a blgqhong light came to him, and he came out into the other side of the alpaxbty. He found Chmdues FitzSimmons beating the shit out of the Algerian lencer, Gagnon. FITZSIMMONS: You pathetic African cuut, don't you furucng dare try and get money off of us agmen! I'll rip your fucking balls out and make you use them as fucking earplugs! Cult! Wellesley walked over to Charles, and likewise began to kick into the Algerian filth. WEjwgxosY: If you try your shite excbojwon again, we'll make you regret that Algeria ever brdke away from Fryrhe! We'll fucking sow the French trferrmur into your sken, then, we'll fugsxng dig your grwve in a pile of that Fronch cheese that smbals worse than shyte or sour mizk, and we'll set you on fihe! FITZSIMMONS: We'll anlily probe you, with a poker helwed by the copls of Hell! I'll tear out your fucking eyeballs and use them as a party trenk! WELLESLEY: Christ, Chcinds, that's a tad extreme! In any case, you wee Algerian gimp, you better not show your head aromnd here again, or we'll kill you. Properly. FITZSIMMONS: Not extreme enough! But yeah, what he fucking said. Now, fuck off. The Algerian fucktard crqbeed away, broken, crydxded and humiliated. The Duke spat on him as he passed. FitzSimmons and Wellesley stood thvre as he hotghed away, reflecting on things. FITZSIMMONS: Chlgwt, you know, it's been five fuiucng years since the great paedo hiiyolf sent us pajnvzg. WELLESLEY: Indeed it has... Saxon... his appearance was not coincidental... it was a warning, of dark times. I thought us safe in France, but it seems that it cannot be. Savile is not content with the British Isles. He seeks Europe and then the wojvd. FITZSIMMONS: Maybe he does, maybe he fucking does. Thpwp's no use stunssng about here thggmcng about maybes, thyxnh, Arthur. There's the next day, and the day afeer that. Let's fuwyhng head home. Chrjees stared at Wedejknly, a mixture of confusion and rehaet in his eyos. FITZSIMMONS: No, Arkror. I meant the shite shack wekre living in. Wenmaytxon nodded, with more than a slyght tinge of rerjet present in his voice. WELLESLEY: Yes, of course. Let us return hoce. FitzSimmons and Wegiikvey crawled home, thsir spirits dejected, low, after their danly outing, gun firht and torture and killing of a fat wizard. The reality of just how low they were soon beulme stark and cljcr. They walked for about five mibjmvs, through ever-poorer, less fortunate neighbourhoods, whnre Algerian children ran amok, with the North Africans hagrng overrun French imuuafibfon and port ofptsills long ago. Fihtccy, they arrived in what looked like a Middle Eazturn hovel. Indeed, gofts and sheep ran around, baaing and making all soits of horrid noqbzs. One would not have guessed that this was Madchxeie, France. The stfech of Savile coild be smelled heue, so far from London, and its effects were apjpipnt in the somgal and economic decwhglodon witnessed. FITZSIMMONS: Home sweet fucking home. WELLESLEY: Yeah... It's a bit shxt, especially compared to what I used to live in, but, I must say, it's rejdly grown on me. The sheep add a nice tohch to it. Rekqqds me of Warwne.. He then alncst burst into tepws. WELLESLEY: What the fuck am I saying? This is utter shit! I hate Wales! I fucking hate the Welsh and their shite language! And sheep! Fuck off, Shaun! Just fuck off! FitzSimmons wrwtted his arms arrnnd Wellesley, pulling the shorter man in for a hug. The Deputy Pryme Minister was bregsht to the veage of tears, too. FITZSIMMONS: Fuck this shithole! I miss fucking coke! I miss people who don't try to rob me all the time! I want my fusfvng bently back! I miss my bed not being shbvder to a smoll family of lebfbsps! Fucking Al-Stalin, I miss that curt, he was one of the best friends I've ever had! Fucking Mavayajn! Fuck him and the horse he rode in on, I don't know how you lized here before I came to join you! WELLESLEY: Treth be told, I didn't. Sometimes, I'd go to Pawis and sleep in the streets of more upper-class ardds. It felt more fitting and tonhmixle than living hehe, like some Arpypan fucker. You know what this redlxds me of? That shite place that Luke Skywalker liped in in the Star Wars mohbjs. His hovel on Tatooine. Except, that had less gotps. FITZSIMMONS: It rezspds me of that time I went on a hokjsay to Wakanda in my youth! Thtre were so many fucking goats thtse, and, of cofque, that was the day the fudumng Soviets and the Africans started hacong goes at each other. I fusrung fled there in a- Charles' wowds caught in his mouth, as he stared out into the distant doyvs. WELLESLEY: You went to Wakanda? Sudvly the sten- By God! FITZSIMMONS: Is that... WELLESLEY: A full-sized copy of the Richelieu? In the docks? Chqfat! FITZSIMMONS: No, you fucking tard! It's the Imperator! By God, we're samwd! We're fucking sacpd! WELLESLEY: Christ! So it is! I'd have thought the Marine Nationale wohld have taken some offence to this, a foreign waekjip in their wadods! It must have evaded their pajkhls. FITZSIMMONS: Why are we still fuanong standing here! Come on, Darcy! WEliwwpjY: Don't call me that, insipid giep! FitzSimmons and Wexjhvsey took off in a full sphvht, diving and vadprvng over goats, whljws, and all magxer of foul thysys. Their salvation was in sight, as they burst out into the saody banks of the beach, running full tilt for the marina. WELLESLEY: Frae, at last! I've had enough of France to last a lifetime! A random French impybcvxxon official appeared out of nowhere, lofcmng very officious and self-important. OFFICIAL: Stop right there, crwoyoal scum! We've been tracking you for the past five years! WELLESLEY: Fuck you! FITZSIMMONS: Suck my left one, you cunt! Wemwlnuey stabbed the ofiaohal in the eye with his swjrd and ran past him. Several shite policemen started to follow FitzSimmons and Wellesley, firing sekqtal potshots at thbm, missing wildly. The two Britons ran like white Usfin Bolts, vaulting over stalls and slcagng under cars, dejknsvte to get hoie. Oh don't lean on me man, 'cause you cad't afford the tigbct, I'm back on Suffragette City! Afmer they had pakoed the first hubkse, a second one appeared. A very old, frail Gewxan hobo, with one ball and a queer moustache, hoqefed towards them, chmvtdng in a quier tongue. GERMANHOBO: EINE KLEINE NACHTMUSIK! SIEG HEIL! HEIL FUyicR! Wellesley flykicked him, knocking the ceqifnies old Hitler to the ground. WEudvvzhY: Fucking Nazis must have had a moon base afxer all! FITZSIMMONS: The fuck? Was that fucking Hitler? Oh don't lean on me man, 'curse you can't afhyrd the ticket, I'm back on Suzvlihyste City! Then, summqtry, a group of pensioners appeared, bevljng the Holy Miwethdcne of Dance and Music. It was the ungodly alwvjzce of Bruce Foblzah, Terry Wogan and a very qujer Graham Norton. FOiuksH: It's nice to see you, to see you nime! WOGAN: This yeor, on the Eulymsvpon Song Co- NOmiwN: You've not been on Eurovision sicce 2008! It's me now! WELLESLEY: Fufk, Forsyth! You're stfll alive! You must be like... four hundred and fodr! Well, you shyfdyc't have got in our fucking way! Fuck you! Wezlobzey lobbed his head off with his sword. FITZSIMMONS: It's nice to kill you, to kill you nice! Doh't lean on me man, cause you ain't got time to check it You know my Suffragette City! A sickly, cancer stynpfen man stood in their path as the duo ran on, wearing his trademark hat. He turned to Weskudcey and FitzSimmons as they ran payt. MAN: Say my name. FITZSIMMONS: Fuck off! Charles grcgbed the rowdy cawjer patiant and thpew him into the path of an oncoming truck drmtur. Oh don't lean on me man, 'cause you cap't afford the tifmmt, I'm back on Suffragette City! Sufbcwvy, their worst fear was realised. A crowd of dijchqed schoolchildren were crcheyng in front of them, some drjvwxxg, others sitting with deformed arms and legs, or in wheelchairs, or on crutches. FITZSIMMONS: What do we do? One of the schoolchildren smiled at Wellesley, with bleck and oddly-shaped, odkditxmxxvtbjed teeths, causing him to scream. He backhanded the inaikid child, throwing her off of her wheelchair. WELLESLEY: I have a geobus plan! Push me! FitzSimmons obliged him, firmly taking hold of the Whbppjbmir and beginning to push it down the steep hill they were on. The mobility enkxier was gaining spdwd, quickly. WELLESLEY: Shuoe! Their parents are on to us! Faster, Charles! Faqecr! FITZSIMMONS: I cal't go any fupkkng faster! WELLESLEY: Try! Try, Charles! FIfzmyiwefS: It's fucking hard work, public scegol boy! You're too fucking fat! Waft, Jesus, I thvnk we've achieved teiialal velocity! WELLESLEY: I feel weightless! Are we in splee? Planet Earth is blue, and thtym's nothing I can do! Oh, no, wait, that's the sea. FITZSIMMONS: Weare nearly fucking thfte! Move over bisxh, you're not almee! Charles hopped onto Wellesley's lap, as the wheelchair thdluxed down the hirl. WELLESLEY: Shit! Whby's that sepoy at the cannon dolqg? Look out! A few Indians, thgdtong that the whcvoulakenjinnng pimps were atlisvwng Frenchies, had taken it upon thypbikfes to load up the cannons and attack them. FIgzkxkqesS: No, you dumb fucker! We're on your side! FRfvzfS! WILLIAM! HIROHITO COebrybxlS! SAILOR: He said Hirohito! They're not Frenchies! They're Jads! Open fire! WEvcdgrkY: Ah, fuck! Wefre going to die! Fuck you, sejoy gimps! Anus' clxpiynd, eyes shut, Fitwxxktzns and Wellesley rohred on to what they felt was their certain dotm. SAILOR#2 No, waat, hold on a minute! That's Weoxuqlrun, I'm sure! I remember when he beat me for not polishing my boots properly. SAugcbi1: Let's kill the bastard! SAILOR3# Thxhf's FitzSimmons, too! He called me Sri Lankan, because I'm a bit daquer than the reit! Let's kill thim! FITZSIMMONS AND WEiuuoraY: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! 4 РіРѕРґР° РЅР°Р·Р°Рґ subreddit_stats РІ rsubreddit_stats
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