Tales from the Forumshire Squad

Donald Trump sat in the Oval office sipping a glass of rare Napoleonic brandy, he lounged back in the white leather seat with a triumphant smile of his perma-tanned face. The occasional minion skittered in front of the massive wooden desk with missives from World leaders, Heads of State and Queens. In polite but measured tones they all in no uncertain terms welcomed him into the fold. This was it! he chortled smugly to himself trying to imagine the gnashing of teeth and wailing of his adversaries. Tremendous! he thought. He wished there were still Emperors in the world, because that was definitely phase two of his World Domination plans.
His young beautiful blonde secretary slunk up to his desk, she was, if only she knew it, Mrs trump the 4th. it was time to dump Mrs trump the 3rd, as she was rapidly becoming too long in the tooth he mused with a slight frown, better pay her off and ship her out, maybe over the Trump Wall for a nice rest.
He was so full of daydreams that he didn't see the tall figure standing behind his secretary patiently waiting for an audience.

Half an hour later, Charmaine, Trump's secretary filed her elegant nails and wondered what was keeping her boss. Normally she could hear his loud braying voice giving out orders or bragging to his cronies. It was strangely silent. She opened the door and slowly walked towards the massive mahogany desk. Trump and his guest were no where to be seen. She moved closer and looked down to find a severed pair of pursed lips and what looked like some wisps of backcombed blonde wig. next to the severed lips was a white T-shirt with 'Forumshire Squad' written in bloody red letters.

Her silvery laugh echoed through the Halls of Power.

{{{ }}}

Hee hee, yea gads, wer'e off !

The Beloved Leader of the Most Divine North Korea looked up from his paperwork. He had spent a fruitful and satisfying morning signing death warrants and now he wanted lunch. He clicked his fingers and immediately ten silent minions set the gilded state table with the gilded state banqueting paraphernalia. The minions glided like ghosts, as well they might, as they were all sedated with drugs as one false move meant certain and painful death. They set the table and placed the sumptuous food in a lavish display. The Beloved Leader pointed a podgy finger at 5 different fragrant dishes and parking his fat bum on the gilded throne he ate in one sitting what would have fed his starving people in a week.
After he had chomped and slurped his way through eight courses he got up and belching fatly he went back to his desk for more 'fun'. His secretary sidled the regulation six feet away from the 'Great Being' in soft shoes and bowed to the floor. There was an important visitor who wished for an audience, would it be possible, a few moments of the Divine Rulers precious time?
The Blessed Father of the People inclined his fat head and smiled a secret smile.
The stranger stood before the throne and the door was softly closed behind them.
An hour later the secretary was getting jumpy, normally the Light of The People would have demanded biscuits and tea by now. The secretary looked through the spy hole to the Royal chamber of The Mighty Being and let out a low whistle. The room was empty save for a scalp, the scalp had a truly awe inspiringly ridiculous haircut. By the ridiculous haircut was a T-shirt with the words Forumshire Squad written in blood.

The secretary danced all the way home.

Are we using parallel time thingies ? Its good

An alarm went off in the Tower of Lore and two minutes later another alarm rent the air over the village of Forumshire. Forumhobbits scurried from their various dwellings and congregated in the village green, some of the ladies from Mrs Figgs Emporium were half dressed. Much whispering and worried chatting eddied out through the assembled folk. Two alarms was serious stuff. The last time this had happened was during the terrible Grass Length Wars and the Elders remembered those dark days and shivered in their boots.
Pink lights went on in the Admin Tower, ooh now they were for it!
The Admin Tower door opened, a delicate hand issued forth and beckoned certain members of the crowd then a megaphone sounded telling people not to panic and to return to their holes. People shuffled off some looking over their shoulders expecting something interesting to happen. Later an official notice was pinned to the Duck and Muck. It stated that the members of the disbanded and outlawed Forumshire Squad were to make their way to the Admin Tower for a de-briefing. It stated that person or persons unknown had gone on a bloody murdering spree in the Out World using the nom de guerre 'Forumshire Squad.'
The Forumshire Squad happened to be pacifists or the most pacific never known for violence, not so much as a Chinese burn. It was most distressing news to all of Forumshire.

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality.

David Cameron looked at the oily souless features of the man sitting opposite him. He had a sudden desire to stick his fork into the quivering fat cheeks but instead he gave his characteristic fatuous smirk and let the man finish his staring-eyed vein throbbing tirade. Ian Duncan Smith was trying to persuade him that the electronic tagging of disabled people was the perfect way to control their movements, 24 hour surveillance, maybe even open prisons for the mentally ill? David just nodded and chewed on his porterhouse steak. he knew by experience it was better to let IDS run out of steam or he would never get to desert without heartburn.
his secretary bobbed a semi curtsy and proffered a mobile phone with apologies for the intrusion. The secretary knew interrupting during lunch was frowned on unless it was Her Majesty or Pig Head vendors, and then he was available.
By all accounts someone important needed to see him urgently. David sighed. it was probably Angela. Again.
The secretary ushered a tall personage into the dining hall of the exclusive London club and left on soft shoes.
An hour later the secretary had had enough of kicking his heels outside the door and he was getting hungry so he decided to open the door a crack, see what the state of play was.

With a low whistle he walked into the room. The two ministers has disappeared and all that remained was a severed pair of fat cheeks and the entire head of IDS on a plate, with an apple thrust into its ugly mouth. The mouth which had condemned so many innocent people to suffer now was silent.

The secretary laughed a glad laugh and went out to lunch.

Bravo !

I am in a bloodthirsty mood.

The Forumshire squad stood blinking in front of Amarie the Elven Administrator. She frowned and drummed her delicate fingers on her desk. Everyone felt slightly guilty without knowing exactly why, some avoided eye contact, some coughed nervously, all of them shifted and twitched at the storm that was brewing. Amarie looked at Eldo who blushed crimson and looked desperately at Petty for help. But Petty was drunk and trying to pick crusty pizza fluff off his second best kilt. (His first best kilt was being de-loused by industrial spillage cleaners.)
''It has come to my notice that there have been killings in the Out World, and I thought I told everyone very clearly that I wont tolerate Forumshire high jinks on my watch, whether its clandestine Who threads or mass murder.''
''Nowt wrong with mass murder'' said Mrs Figg.
''My veggies sometimes murder slugs and snails'' laughed Dave.
''My puns are pretty lethal'' said Elthir.
''My farts are pretty toxic'' gurgled Petty.
''My naughtiness is legendary'' said Orwell proudly.
''My jokes could kill you stone dead with laughter'' giggled Azriel.
''My dislike of game of Thrones will probably get me killed in Forumshire''mused Blue.
''I like killer Black Holes'' nodded Halfy, ''and I am not talking about Petty's hole''.
Eldo mumbled something about people not appreciating Rap Music and fell silent.
''Well Forumshire Squad'' said Amarie with decision in her voice, ''You must sally forth and get to the bottom of this mystery. These assasinations must be stopped before we are invaded by the FBI, CIA, MI5 etc ect.
''This looks like a job for me'' said Lance, ''I need a volunteer to go undercover''
''me me me'' cried Malick, Bungo and Forest, ''we want to do some spying for the realm of Forumshire''. ''You should never do a big smelly poo in your own back yard'' said Bungo.
Forest just rolled his eyes and polished his Sherlock magnifying glass and they all set out for Out World.

In her Admin's secret service.

Now who's the naughty one?

There's a touch of that in all of us ( tho some are more touched than others )

So, I s'pose, this one is one of those ones - like Petty's - where you just get interested, and the writer then goes and hides all lazy like?

(((I suspect the Secretary...)))