by Ross Sharp

Somebody’s left the gate open at the cunt farm again …

A terrifying troupe of terrorist teen tots and twenty-somethings had been planning to launch an extreme assault upon the Australian public on our nation’s finest and most revered of days, Holy of Holies, Oh Woe are We for We are Besieged by Evil!

They were going to go at it with a knife and a sword somewhere to avenge the death of some other dickhead with a name that sounded like a brand of Turkish nougat who bought a knife to a gunfight outside a police station a while back and got himself shot for his troubles.

As you would.

Our New Band of Brothers in Evil did speak often, and at large about their demonic plans for bloody savagery on our national Day of Mourning & Remembrance, and they did speak loudly, on Facebook and Twitter and other social networks, on blogs, texting and talking on their mobile phones, on Skype, and they were disgustingly adamant and unconcerned about the effect their vile intentions would have upon the otherwise genteel souls of our fair and most free land.

Most of their conversations did appear to come from the script of “Khartoum”, and are scattered with dark references to the flowing of blood, the slitting of throats, rolling heads, and infidels this and infidels that, and I suspect they also called each other “bro’” a lot, and did that lame rapper thing with the pointy-finger air-jabbing and the jazz hands.

So imagine their complete surprise, and their dismay, that their plans, hitherto unknown, highly secret, tightly kept plans to wreak this havoc became known to police and a bunch of these same police turned up at our dastardly dickheads front doors 4am one morning to make a few “inquiries”.

“Who snitched?”, our criminal crib-wetters must have wondered wide-eyed, casting furtive glances at each other, and wondering if their crew had been infiltrated by a mole acting on behalf of the agents of Zion.

Some of our dastardly clan of motley’s even claimed they had been “roughed up” and “mishandled” by these violently oppressive enemies of freedom from the Victorian Police Force during this melee, and photos were taken in evidence, showing small scratches and a few bruises here and there because, when you’re plotting to stab someone in a public place and run about like a lunatic shouting religiously inspired claptrap and stuff, the police should only ever be expected to tap gently at your door, politely ask to be invited in, and just proceed to whup you about the head with a Chux for a bit if you don’t make them a nice cup of tea and offer them a biscuit.


Silly little buggers.