The story:

For year you were waiting for this invitation. Your predecessor in the job told you wild stories about the raunchy and kinky parties held at the UN at the world’s expense,… well, mostly the American tax payer expense but hey, who cares. You are now the leader of your country and that says some. You have arrived here in New-York to participate in this orgy of ego maniacs play Russian Roulette with the world’s safety and ‘dang’ if anyone at home will stop you.

Yes, you’ve heard the stories… two years ago the Swedish PM was found in a very compromising position with the Bangladeshi President in the UNESCO building broom closet. The South-African President was found naked and asleep in the corridor of the Hilton outside the Canadian PM’s room and the least said about the Austrian Chancellor and barely legal Miss Tennessee the better.

This time it seems as if all the bigwigs are present, all trying to pull deals off, show their muscle at the negotiating table and secure prosperity for their nations. Some think it’s best to get a better future by trade and cultural exchange and some stand firmly behind the ‘mind your own damn business/country’ mantra.

The American President saunters around with a smug home court attitude, dripping with confidence about his Nue-k-lir capabilities. He stops to stare at the German Chancellor who discusses the finer points of a compulsory 70 hours work week. The British PM is trying to teach the Russian President about the finer points of Cricket’s forward defensive stroke, though it does seem as if the Russian is in turn, trying to make the British sign a contract to reduce import taxes on Vodka. The Australian head of State talks heatedly about the concerns his government has over the impact of camels on native Australian wildlife, while right under his nose the Prime Minister of Italy and French President point fingers at each other about some head-butting incident. The Dutch PM hold s a wooden clog to the nose of the UN Secretary, trying to convince him that clogs don’t smell as bad as regular shoes while the Head of the Security Council stands behind him and talks to one of his aides in his James Bond style watch-phone.

As they all head towards the central conference hall, straightening their suits and trying to assume some air of dignity and composure they notice a strange smell. It smells like semi-cooked meat and at least some of the delegates think there’s some surprise saucy meat BBQ planned. They enter the conference room and are stunned in shock at the sight in front of their eyes.

From the top most chandelier hangs a steal cable some 15 meters long and dangling from its lower end are the charred remains of the Irish Prime Minister. His skeleton is exposed in some places and his empty eye sockets promise revenge in the next world, but his feet are tied with a green, white and orange flag still soaked in smouldering gasoline.

The leaders slowly regain their senses and start looking at each other accusingly. They have all come here to have fun and enjoy the summit. Who could have left the conference room while all the others were busy drinking and partying? Who would have wanted to eliminate the Irish PM in such a gruesome manner? Ohh the horror… Ohh the disgust. Why spoil such a great party?

The ten leaders of the world look at each other suspiciously… who among them is guilty.

Day 1:

The mood has certainly changed. It’s a clear night and the stars sparkle over New-York and the 30th floor of the UN building, where the Leaders of the world have gathered to discuss recent events. No one is smiling!

Since the sudden discovery of the Irish PM body swinging and smoldering from the chandeliers, not only the rancid smell of burning flesh was hard to ignore. Suddenly every Leader needed his embassy on a live phone line the whole time. Letter openers have been forgotten in pockets when leaving the office, as an impromptu self-defence weapon. Illiterate yet solidly built aides have attached themselves to several Leaders, contributing little to conversations yet eyeballing anyone coming too near their charge. A container accidentally inspected in the NY harbour was found to contain a shipment of armour piercing bullets and sniper rifles, supposedly posted as agricultural tools to a phoney address in Manhattan.

Never in the history of UN Summits has the mood been so edgy, dark and rife with speculation. It was even rumoured that the Argentinean delegate’s umbrella packs a lethal microscopic injection. Nervous Leaders are standing around in hushed groups, whispering their suspicions to each other and not a single call girl can be seen for miles around. Long gone are the days of jubilation and wild partying, where oil deals and weapons acquisitions were done through a haze of alcoholic or drug induced fog.

Snippets of conversation can be heard from around the room…

“… where’s that damn Secretary of the UN? He’s no use to the Irish now that…”
“… I spoke to the Head of the Security Council and he said he knows…”
“… If your damn reporter ever comes near me again I’ll gut him like a …”
“… I can’t tell my farmers to stop producing soybean even if you sell us…”
“… I suspected him long ago. His country sucks and he does too…”
“… Ohh did she now?! And I thought my own Defence Minister was kinky!”
“… Where’s that Chinese Prime Minister? Let’s ask him for a number 45 and 23… think he’ll get it?...”
“… Of course I’m scared! I can still smell that Irish flesh burning…”

As the groups and individuals drift around the conference room, a group forms of like-minded Leaders. They all keep nodding to each other and sneaking sidelong glances at the Norwegian Prime Minister. He, standing near an open window, is totally oblivious to the looks in his direction and ignores the entire crowd.

Suddenly the little group that eyed the Norwegian PM turns as one and charges at him.
One of them is shouting “he has it far too good!”
Another PM follows screaming “What a shifty gimp!”
Two others are screaming “Get the ba5stard!”

The Norwegian PM has no time to scream or even fight back. He is unceremoniously lifted by the group and carried at full trot towards the open window behind him. They all scream at him, accusing him of killing the Irish PM. He tries to protest but someone shoves a bread role down his throat stifling his protests.

One of them shouts “On a count of three… One, Two, Three…”

“Wow, look at him flap…” remarks one.
“A perfect trajectory” shouts another.
“I hope he doesn’t bounce right back” remarks a third as the Norwegian PM is tossed through the open window and into the New-York sky… dropping like a stone and shortly after…

SPLAT! on the pavement below.

The jubilant group look through the window and then to the astonished crowd of onlookers below, aghast at their improvised lynching.
“Yes!” Shouts the one of the Leaders “He did it, he killed the Irish!”
“He said our women stink” complained the Another.
“He was from the Axis of Evil, for sure.” says the third.

Last Edited : Wednesday, 17 January 2007 - 11:14

Someone quickly looks through the Norwegian PM’s briefcase left on the floor. He pulls out an official Norwegian government document which reads “We the people of Norway, pledge our entire army of 100 soldiers to fight the Axis of Evil.”

“He was one of us” says the reader of the letter. “We just killed one of us! A good man and a Free World Leader!”

“Oops” says the one.
“crappers” exclaims another.
The third starts crying “why did we do it? Whyyyy?”



A Leader of the Free World is dead!

Norway (kong) was a Leader of the Free world.


End of Day 1.

Last Edited : Wednesday, 17 January 2007 - 11:14

Night 1:

This has certainly been a bad day.

First the Irish PM was found burned to death and hanging from the chandelier in one of the main conference halls. Then a group of suspicious Leaders took a dislike to the Norwegian Prime Minister’s aloof attitude and accused him of murdering the Irish PM. A quick field trial and execution saw them toss the Norwegian PM out of the window of the 30th floor to splat on the pavement below. Only to find a few seconds later that their suspicions were totally un-based and mostly wrong! A minor consolation was found when they discovered a whole filleted salmon in his golf bag and proceeded to consume it in during dinner.

Now all the distinguished Leaders are milling around talking to each other, puffing at their expensive Cuban cigars and sipping their finest Scotch or Cognac. Suddenly from one end of the hall someone shouts
“Yu now nothin. Ja! I tellz you it vas Renno, ze Canadian PM who standz behind the Axiz of Eveel. Ja! So!” it’s Sage the German Chancellor.
The Italian PM mwmoss, close on the German’s heels adds “Si si… Herr Sage knows good. It’s Renno, that Canadian kazo who is bad man!”
The Aussie PM Oblivion swept in the spirit of admonishing follows suit and says “Listen mate, I know for a fact he’s done it. Worse than a stinging Redback he is that Canadian!”
The French President tarim casts a superior look at all of them yet adds positively… “Qui, ze German is correct mon ami… zat Canadian wazn’t smelling right.”

Renno the Canadian PM looking hurt and insulted shouts right at them “ you and your puny wee countries. Think you know something?! Go drink warm beer! I know who is the agitator… who the real Evil Leader is… it’s You Oblivion, damn Aussie, Yes YOU! Don’t look so surprised”.
From behind Renno pops Neb.U.Chadnerskin the Russian President. He stops for a second to wipe some bird poop of his forehead and places a calming hand on the Canadian’s shoulder. “Da, you speak pure Pravda! That sabaka Australian Oblivion is behind all the trouble here lately.”
The Spanish PM Corflu steps on the Canadian’s other side to support him and says “Don’t worry Renno, we knows these Aussies were just jealous cause their Olympics sucked. Not like ours in Barcelona!”
Forgetting his discipline the Portuguese PM Bud_Chevy follows his ancient tradition of doing everything the Spaniards do and steps up to the Canadian’s defence. “I’m with you friend”, he says, yet Renno doesn’t look so reassured.

Cont…

Germany (Sage), Italy (mwmoss), France (tarim) and Oblivion (Australia) are standing shoulder to shoulder chanting “Kill Canada, kill Canada”.
Opposing them are Canada (Renno), Russia (Neb), Spain (Corflu) and Portugal (Bud_C) chanting right back at them “Kill the Aussie, Kill the Aussie”.

At the corner of the room stands the American President Titonator (a scary thought) and mumbles to himself “I knew kong was wrong… you should have never listened to me… I tell you…”

In another corner stand the Danish PM Wasteland mumbling… “Sage I tell yous, get Sage… why don’t you listen, get Sage…”

The British PM Darkguy also stands alone, banging his head at the wall and refusing to say anything… *bang bang*


After everyone had their fill of shouting they disperse. Each person goes about his personal business, some back to their hotel rooms, some to private meetings and some remain talking.

The Secretary of the UN (aka Doc) thinks “Hmm,… no one can touch me,… tough I can save someone tonight, I think I’ll save my own arse… Hmm,… a long while since I visited Madam’s Nasty - Fisting Club… I’ll just go there on my own and allow the others to fend for themselves. …hehehe…” and he walks out of the building with his bodyguards and heads off to his private pleasures.

Cont…

The Head of the Security Council (aka Detective) displays a slightly more responsible attitude. He thinks out loud “I can’t let this continue under my very nose… I got to find out who stands behind these gruesome killings. AND… I have my doubts… I’m going to investigate someone tonight and find out the truth about his shifty behaviour!”

Meanwhile the Italian PM mwmoss has some ideas of his own. It’s been a long time since he visited New-York and he is keen on checking on an old friend. His childhood girlfriend and once political associate Chicholina, is residing now in New-York. Once a porn star, later a politician, he suspects she will have some clues about the current events or at least give him some good time.

He jumps in a cab and tells the driver “6th Avenue, 95th Street and step on it man” As soon as the cab starts moving the car’s doors are locked, the cabin lights are dimmed and the cab heads downtown instead of the Upper East.
“Hey this is the wrong way” says the Italian PM slightly panicking.
There’s no reply from the driver behind his bullet proof panel.
The Italian PM bangs on the panel “STOP this cab right now” as it suddenly pulls into a small dark alley and stops. The doors unlock and the Italian PM jumps outs out.

And there in the darkness of the alley stand three of his colleagues. Three other Leaders looking at him. He walks over to them and says “So what’s up? Has the pasta gone soft? Do you want to discuss who killed the Irish? Why here? There’s a nice club not far…”

One of them smiles at him and interrupts “There’s a nice club right here… see, this is my hand, this is my club and this is goodbye!” and …
BANG, THUMP, KABOOM, CRASH… the blows rain on the Italian PM as he crumbles in a broken heap. The blows continue even after he is long dead and barely recognisable.

The three conspirators smile at each other… one of them says “pleasure doing business with you”.
Another says “Arivederchi!”
The third smiles and kicks the body once more for good measure.

The Italian PM mwmoss is dead.
The Axis of Evil Leaders roam free.

Day 2:

Today is a special day at the UN Summit. At lunch time the delegates will be will entertained by the German chancellor’s favourite (and if I might add Sage’s too) singer Luther Vandross. They all gather in the huge dinning hall in their best garments, many of them looking slightly bulgy now, wearing double layers of bullet-proof vests under their clothes. A main dish of Fun accompanied by a double helping of paranoia.

The Australian PM Oblivion in particular looks like the Michelin Man with triple protection and for some obscure reason, an inflatable yellow, duck swimming floater around his waist. He looks sour and grumpy mumbling to himself
“They almost killed me the last time, those ba5tards. Why me…? I drive a Holden, drink only Black Swan lager and invited them all to my Barbie in Ayers Rock last summer. So what if I embezzle a little… they all do… that’s no reason to want to lynch me… hrumpfff…”

The German Chancellor all excited about the upcoming event can’t hide his loathing when the Canadian PM Renno walks into the room. Renno is already swaying a bit and holding onto two bottles, each in each hand. In one hand he got a bottle of some awful Canadian whiskey and on the other a fat bottle of maple syrup. He takes a swig of the whiskey, makes an awful face and then a quick swig of the maple syrup to mask the taste. He is already half inebriated and manages to knock the Somali President into the canapés table. He then quickly proceeds to buckle the knee of the Mongolian PM and make him topple into the bosom of the Korean PM’s wife.

The German Chancellor spits out “Luk at ze Canadian Renno, zat’z dizguztin. Ja! He did not eeven polish hiz shoez. Ja! Ze suner ve get rid of him, ve ave one less Axiz of Eveel to worry about, nein?”
“No!” says the French President tarim, who is always quick to contradict the German yet follows in his exact footsteps. “No, I do not agree mon ami… we must kill eem.”
The German casts a baleful eye at the French “But datz vat I zaid!”
“No!” answers the French “I said that.”

A group of other leaders around them seem to agree with them. Some with the German and some with the French, but they all watch as the Canadian PM Renno keeps traipsing around the room knocking people over and upsetting a few tables.

The Russian President Neb.U.Chadnerskin says “Comrade Sage, we stop this now, Da?!”
The Spanish PM Corflu adds “caray! me not like this too. This agilipollao is bad for all of us”
The Portuguese PM Bud_Chevy hotly follows with “Foda-se! dis cabrao is something else.”
Even the Aussie PM gathers enough courage to say “Yes please… *and whispers* ba5tards!” in very quiet tones.

They look around to see if there’s any challenges to their growing team animosity towards the Canadian PM Renno and all they see is the British PM Darkguy still banging his head against the walls repeating a mantra “I’m not here, I’m not here, I’m not here…”

“Where’s Titonator the American President and our host?” asks someone and no one has a clue…

Only the Danish PM Wasteland in between one mouthful of herring to another and a few quick swigs of Aquavit says “I still don’t like that fat Aussie gimp Oblivion… but you all don’t want to listen.”

Cont…

Last Edited : Saturday, 20 January 2007 - 04:17

The speaker on the stage asks everyone to sit down, for the meal is about to start and Luther Vandross is about to go on stage. All of them sit at the same table while two waiters help the drunk Canadian PM Renno to his spot. The atmosphere at the table is so charged, you only need knock a couple of utensils together and the spark would ignite the air.

The waiters rush in and bring a large, silver soup cauldron to the table, filled with steaming tomato broth. The smell is wonderful and all of them salivate a little, though they all still look at the Canadian PM Renno who tries to stand up. He finally manages to stand up and reaches over with his bottle of maple syrup intending to pour some into the tomato soup. He says
“This maple is fantas-*hic*-tic… see… I add a little to the soup…”

With a roar the French President tarim stands up and pushes the Canadian’s PM Renno’s head into the huge bowl of steaming soup. Before he has time to recover, the German Sage, Russian Neb, Spanish Corflu, Portuguese Bud_C and even the Aussie Oblivion all stand up and join their hands to the back of his head forcing him under the boiling red liquid.

At first he thrashes a little but after a few seconds he grabs onto the cauldron’s handles and pulls his shoulders in too. He’s actually helping his accusers by drowning himself deeper. They all hold for several minutes until all movement stops and then as one they sit back, their fine suits splattered in red tomato broth. The Canadian PM Renno’s body is slumped on the table his head still under the simmering liquid. It’s not a pleasant death.

The speaker on the stage who didn’t see what happened at one of the tables, pulls a note out of his pocket and reads to the assembled crowd
“Ladies and Gentleman,
I hope you’ll enjoy this wonderful lunch we prepared for you and the accompanying entertainment. However before we begin, we have a special announcement…
We finally received an official authorisation to tell you, that one of our distinguished guests, the Canadian PM Renno has completed the set up of a new anti-terror fighting force. This new task force first recruits are one hundred of Canada’s elite ‘Mounties’, aided with a budget of one hundred million Canadian Dollars to fight terror worldwide. Let us all applaud this wonderful Leader of the Free World…”
He smoothly continues “And now we move on to the performance of his most beloved tunes by Luther Vandross…”


At the table where the Canadian PM Renno’s body is still lying face down in the drink, no one moves or says anything. They all look at each other quickly and cast their eyes down… they killed another Free World Leader… how could they be so wrong? But he did give off the wrong vibe… he even helped them kill him… what’s next?

Night 2:

The second evening of the disastrous UN Summit is over and all the delegates are gone to their respective hotel rooms, embassies and club houses. No one said anything and the accusations were kept to a minimum. Even the press was banished from the UN building and the general feeling was one of ‘hush-hush, not a word to the media’.

The Secretary of the UN decides to do something tonight. He can’t hide in his office anymore and pretend that nothing happened saving only himself. So he thinks
‘Hmmm,… I’ll do something, anything…and save one of those Leaders … but who shall I rescue…? Let’s see…’

An hour later the official car of the Secretary of the UN stops in front of the German Embassy. After a few short words between the guard who is actually a member of the GSG-9 (Germany’s elite Anti-terror unit) and the driver of the UN car who is actually a member of the Interpol’s secret VIP protection unit, the German Chancellor Sage runs out and quickly disappears into the car.

Sage and asks the driver “Are you shure? He zaid I vas in danger… Vhy?” but the driver keeps his mouth shut and drives on. After a 20 minute drive out of the city, he stops in front of a secluded house, protected by a thick ring of trees. The driver turns to the German Chancellor Sage and says to him “The Secretary said you are in danger. You are to wait here until morning and then we’ll send a car to bring you back to the discussions groups at the UN building. There are two … ahm… ‘ladies’ waiting for you in the house… enjoy yourself and DON’T call anyone!”

The car door opens and Sage walks quickly into the house rubbing his podgy hands in anticipation.

Cont…

On the other side of town the Danish PM Wasteland sits in his hotel room and thinks about today’s events. He saw the lynching happen and was bloody confused about it. It happened so quickly. He didn’t have time to reason with them. He didn’t even understand half of what they were saying…

There’s a knock on his door. He thinks ‘Mmmm Kung-Pau Chicken and a nice little Oriental girl to eat it off… hehehe… now that’s what I call service!’

“Who’s there?” he calls to the door excited about his upcoming feast and ‘special’ dessert.

A reedy voice answers “Kung-Pau delight with extras for yu!”

He thinks ‘Oops too loud, someone could hear her…’ and he opens the door quickly.

Instead of a seductive oriental girl he is faced with three of his equals from the Summit. They are all dressed in black suits, black shirts, black ties and a black flower in their lapels.

“err,… what are you doing here?” he peers behind them into the corridor “Where’s my Kung-Pau girl?” he knots his eye brows in suspicion and demands “So,.. WHAT are you doing here?”

One of them smiles and KUNG-PAU decks him with a right hook to the chin. As he is knocked back into the room, all three step quickly in and close the door behind them. They open their suits and produce three pistols all smartly equipped with silencers.

“You’re far too nosy mister Wasteland!” says one of them
“You need to learn your place!” says another
“It’s six feet under!” says the third…

…and all three open fire. Each one of them empties a whole magazine into the Danish PM Wasteland’s body. He falls backwards on the carpet and through the entire episode, not more than a loud clap was heard. The three Axis of Evil leaders search through the room and the Dane’s belongings. One of them stands up and triumphantly says “See! I told you!”

Another says to him “Shush, hush… not so loud!”
“Ohh don’t be silly, this is a hotel in New-York… anything can happen here… but LOOK what I found!” And he shows them a plastic key and identity card. There’s a picture of Wasteland the Danish PM and the card reads
‘Mr. Sven Wasteland of Denmark - Head of the UN Security Council’.

The three look at each other… and smile broadly.
This is better than expected. It will take a long while before they can appoint a new Head of the Security Council and in the mean time, no one will be able to reveal their identities for sure…

They re-holster their pistols, smooth their suits and quietly leave the room.

The Axis of Evil leaders still roam free.

Day & Night 3:

It’s the last day of the UN Summit. It has been disastrous.

Iran bought Greenland from Denmark, Mexico declared war on New-Zealand, Egypt with Libya and Finland have cast a naval blockade on the Netherlands as a result of the Dutch’ refusal to sell them a victory in international soccer matches.

On the personal level the Israeli PM was found in a hotel room with the Swiss PM and her sister. The Kazakhstani President was photographed wearing a drag costume in a night club, and the Nigerian President was caught with his hand stuck in an ATM deposit box.


The delegates to the Summit are even more confused. Things have gone bad from the start. First the Irish PM was found murdered and they were all shocked. This shock was replaced by uncomfortable depression when they unwittingly blamed and lynched the Norwegian PM kong. The following accusations between those blaming the Canadian PM and the Australian PM resulted in nothing and were followed immediately by discovering the Italian PM mwmoss battered to a pulp in a smelly dark alley not far from the UN building.

That same night when the Italian PM mwmoss as assassinated, the Head of the Security Council and PM of Denmark Wasteland who suspected the German Chancellor Sage, investigated him. He found out that the German Chancellor was a Leader of the Free World but his words were largely ignored due to everyone’s fright of the German Chancellor Sage. The Secretary of the UN - dismayed by the events and fearful for his own precious life - took himself away to a secret location, and protected himself in the most egoistic fashion. Thus within 24 hours two Leaders of the Free World were killed (kong-Norway and mwmoss-Italy), two other innocents were blamed (Renno-Canada and Oblivion-Australia), while the Axis of Evil grew stronger.

Also interesting to note how on that very first day of the Summit, the British PM Darkguy developed a strange habit of banging his head against the wall, ignoring all that has happened around him and not giving the slightest support to the other Leaders of the Free World.

Cont…

Last Edited : Monday, 22 January 2007 - 05:27

On the Second day of the Summit, even stranger things happened. First of all and without anyone noticing at first, the American President Titonator went MIA. The British PM Darkguy kept increasing the dent in his skull by banging his head against the wall and the delegates were so confused, they didn’t even notice the similarities between the actions (votes) of several leaders.

First of all and reeling from the news about the murder of the Italian PM, the delegates jumped the opportunity at a gala dinner and attacked almost unanimously the Canadian PM Renno. While he provided them with a strong case of drunkenness and even expedited his own demise by helping them drown him in the Tomato soup cauldron, they were only mildly embarrassed when they found he was too a Leader of the Free World and dedicated to fight the Axis of Evil.

The night after the sordid gala dinner in which they lost the Canadian PM Renno, the Secretary of the UN decided that he must start doing something and decided to save the German Chancellor Sage. He spirited him away to a night of debauchery, while the Head of the Security Council Wasteland sent out his agents to investigate the Russian President Neb.U.Chadnerskin.

However, just as he was about to have a nice quiet evening with a combined oriental food & love delivery to his room, he was visited by the three Axis of Evil Leaders, who perforated his body with three magazines from their silenced pistols. Imagine their joy when they discovered that he, Wasteland, the Danish PM was also the Head of the Security Council. Imagine everyone’s shock the next day when they all discovered that the Head of the Security Council was ‘terminated’.

Cont…

On Day three things were beyond despair.

Everyone came together for breakfast in the UN Dinning room.

“Ja, zey killed Vasteland the Danish PM last nite. Yu kno he vas also our Head of ze Security Counceel. Ja?!” says Sage the German Chancellor.
“I tell ya mate, it’s that Russian President Chadnerskin who is responsible!” says the Australian PM Oblivion.
The Russian President turns towards the Aussie and his deadly stare forces the Aussie a couple of steps back.
“How comes you escaped the accusations yesterday Comrade Downunder and yet more of us are dead?” slams the Russian at the Aussie. “Maybe it’s you?!”
The German Chancellor twists his head back and forth between the Australian PM Oblivion and his friend the Russian President Neb.U.Chadnerskin. He decides eventually to go with his gut feeling and looks accusingly at the Russian. However before the German Chancellor manages to join the accusations and before the Russian feels too isolated a strange thing occurs.

The British PM Darkguy who probably had enough of banging his head against the wall shows up at the Russian’s side and lays a calming hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry” he reassures the Russian “We from the land of hope and glory, shall support you. What! Let’s blame the Aussie son of a criminal!” The Russian President doesn’t like the clammy British touch on his shoulder but he accepts it with a smile.

Soon enough the Spanish PM Corflu and his Portuguese PM counterpart Bud_Chevy join the Brit and the Russian and are all staring daggers at the Australian PM Oblivion. Only the French President tarim is too busy stuffing himself with clams at the breakfast table and seems so uninterested that between mouthfuls he mumbles “We hate ze Americanz ‘me qui’! Were iz dat American President Titonator, Hmm?! He must be behind dis!” Everyone instantly ignore him.

The German Chancellor Sage and the Aussie PM Oblivion turn their back on the four accusers to confer and the Russian President Neb.U.Chadnerskin picks up a craving fork. He also picks up the carving knife and hands it over to the Portuguese PM Bud_Chevy. The Spanish PM Corflu hoists a ceramic serving platter and the British PM Darkguy grabs the Sparkling water siphon.

Cont…

The British PM Darkguy calls out “Hey you bloody POME!” and as the Aussie turns around to face him, the British squeezes the trigger and the jet of sparkling soda water hits the Aussie Oblivion right between the eyes. He blindly waves his hands in the air and the Spanish PM Corflu whacks him on the head with the ceramic serving platter “BOOM… KRACK…” the ceramic plate is shattered yet the Aussie is concussed so badly he falls to the floor. The Portuguese PM Bud_Chevy dives after him along side the Russian President Nub.U.Chandnerskin and both stab the prone Aussie Oblivion repeatedly with the carving knife and fork. Blood splatters everywhere and the Aussie’s corpse finally stops twitching.

Security guards rush into the room and grab hold of everyone. They pull them back including the French President tarim who struggles to swallow one last mouthful of prawn salad. The Secretary of the UN shouts “I’ll see you later tonight for the final dinner and you better get hold of yourselves”.

………………….

………………….

………………….

It’s evening time.

In his hotel room the American President Titonator is laying in a stupor induced by the latest batch of Columbian heroin. He is drooling and looks like he hasn’t changed his clothes for more than three days.

The door handle swivels quietly and the door is pushed open. In step three figures clad in black. One of them examines the American President Titonator on the bed and says “This is going to be easier than we thought.” And without waiting for his partners, he sits down on the floor and takes off his shoes. He quickly removes his socks and holds them at arms’ length. The socks stink. They stick so bad there’s an almost palpable cloud of stench hanging around them. The other two Axis of Evil leaders step back. One of them says
“That’s too cruel! I don’t object to the killing, but this is beyond the grave!”
“I don’t care!” says the barefooted Axis of Evil Leader “This is my ultimate enemy and thus I use my ultimate weapon!”
and he shoves both reeking, rotten socks into the mouth of the comatose American President Titonator on the bed.

The American President Titonator twitches a little and soon enough all breathing stops and he’s dead. The barefooted assassin puts his shoes back on, sans socks, and says
“Now there’s three of us and three of them! That means we can easily take over the world… follow me…”

and all three head out the door giggling softly and dreaming of world domination.

Cont…

The Secretary of the UN opens the last dinner session. There’s six of them at the table.

There’s Sage, the fat and greasy German Chancellor.
There’s Darkguy, the pasty and clammy British PM.
There’s Corflu, his chest bedecked with more than 20 medals Spanish PM.
There’s Neb.U.Chadnerskin the smarmy Russian president.
There’s tarim, the garlic smelling frog-eating French President.
There’s Bud_Chevy, waering a cork hat with feathers, the Portuguese PM.

The Brit starts saying “This is indeed…” and he is viciously interrupted by the Spanish PM…
“Shut up! We’re lost now… This is all my fault!” they all look at him suspiciously “Yes it is my fault! Yet again this evening I protected myself! YES IT’S ME. I’m the Secretary of the UN. ME! Me Corflu, the Secretary of the UN and I’m gonna go down in history as the worst Secretary of the UN (Doctor) ever. *boohoo… boohoo…*” he sobs.

“Maybe we can still do something …” says Darkguy the British PM.
“Neeyet!” determines the Russian President Neb.u.Chadnerskin “that means No!”
The Secretary of the UN Corflu looks at him through tear filled eyes and asks “Why not?!”
“Because I think it’s great this way!” smiles the Russian.

“Indeed it is!” says Bud_Chevy the Portuguese PM and rises too next to the Russian.

The French President tarim grins and exposes a rotten set of crooked teeth…
“Mon ami, mon frer… Hi agri… zis iz great!”

The Russian President Neb.U.Chadnerskin, the Portuguese PM Bud_Chevy and the Fench President tarim pull out their silenced pistols… they point them at the three remaining Free World Leaders.

“THE WORLD IS OURS!” shouts triumphantly the Russian President Neb.U.Chadnerskin.
“I’ll kill you all!” screams the Portuguese PM Bud_Chevy
“I’ll turn you all into pâté!” says the French President tarim.

And the three Axis of Evil Leaders blast the three remaining Free World Leaders into smithereens.

The World,… err,.. I mean the game is over.

The Axis of Evil Leaders Neb, tarim and Bud_Chevy have won!

Excellent game.