Monday, 26 August 2013

Espionage

Have you ever wondered how difficult it would be to breathe with a bag over your head?  Neither had I, but there I was, sucking fresh wisps of air through the hessian like someone was slowly pouring honey on me through a sieve.

I couldn’t remember why I was here.  I couldn’t see anything, which was just as well because I think I was naked and tied to a chair.  Perhaps it was best not see the person or persons who were holding me captive.  I struggled slightly against my bonds as I tried to unstick my clammy buttocks from the chair underneath, failing spectacularly and instead sitting on my own left nut.
Before I could correct this terrible wrong, an alarming wave of ice water was thrown all over me, making the hairs on my arms and legs ping off in state of shock.  I began to gasp as my mouth filled with unwelcome, freezing liquid.  My senses had barely recovered when I heard a guy shout “wake up!”

“I’m already awake, you fucking bastard!” I calmly replied.

With that, the bag was ripped off my head and my world was filled with light once more.  Well, as much light as you can get in a leaky basement.  At first I thought I’d been tricked into parlour with Uncle Peter again, but I didn’t recognise the two burly guys in suits and shades.  I doubted that these two would hang out with a chronic stool collector and general shut in like my uncle.

“Oh sorry about that” mumbled the first, tallest suit.

“Don’t apologise to him!” the second chastised, picking up another bucket and throwing it towards me.  My hopes of a bucket full of confetti were dashed as I received another drenching.  My unmentionables would need ironing to undo all this shrivelling.

As the water drained from me like a freshly-birthed hippo, the second man (who I had decided was the nastier of the two.  I had already given him the nickname “Horrid Henry” before I realised this was already copyrighted and I received an imaginary court summons for merely thinking of it) grabbed the back of my chair and dragged me across the room.  He positioned my chair underneath a dripping pipe.  I could feel the soft pat of each drop on my scalp, although I was already too wet to care at this point.  When I enquired as to the purpose of this exercise, the nice one explained that I was being subjected to Chinese water torture.  I wasn’t sure what was so Chinese about it.  Perhaps the leaky pipework had been sourced from the World’s fastest growing economy.  I daren’t ask in case it was considered racist.

After a few minutes they decided that their torture methods weren’t working.  The only things they’d forced me to talk about were the plotlines of my favourite soap operas.  They didn’t seem interested in Ken Barlow’s latest sexscapades and resolved to use other, more dreadful forms of torture.

Before I knew it, we were jet skiing in the nearby harbour.  Apparently, they were going to water board me, but they didn’t do waterboarding at this particular establishment, so jet skis it was!  We had such a wonderful day splashing each other, racing around buoys, and trying to mercilessly kill seagulls.

I still didn’t have information for them and, after ice cream and short sunset stroll across the promenade, the pair were starting to get desperate.  I told them I wished I could help them since they’d treated me to such a lovely afternoon, but I soon found myself back in their torture basement listening to Dan Brown audiobooks.

After twenty minutes I started to crack.  I was cracking like Humpty Dumpty at a comedy roast.  I started shouting out things that I thought they want to hear.

“I’m the gunman behind the grassy knoll!”

“I orchestrated every plot on Scooby Doo!”

“I am the Elephant Man!”

None of these appeased them, although they were adamant that it would be kept on file for future torturings.  No, they wanted a confession for something, but I had no idea what.  If it wasn’t for the severe case of Stockholme Syndrome I was feeling for the first guy, I’d have told them that they got the wrong person.

“We have reason to believe that you’ve been involved in espionage” said Hideous Henry, which was news to me.  The nearest I’ve ever got to spying was looking at ants through a magnifying glass.  Funnily enough, the ants were never too happy that I was looking at them and always spontaneously burst into flames.  I imaged that this was a protest akin to Buddhist Monks who immolate themselves in the name of their beliefs, meaning that ants must really dislike being looked at.  But I digress.

When I informed them that I had no idea what they were talking about, they said that I had been caught whistleblowing.  Funnily enough, my last memory before waking up here was that of booking a player as I refereed my local junior football game.  I explained that I was only blowing the whistle to stop the flow of play, but apparently whistleblowing is a serious offence and cannot be tolerated under any circumstances.

They class it as “aiding the enemy”, although I don’t see what’s so bad about a sports game for under 11’s.

And that’s the end of my story.  They locked me in this concentration camp, which is ironic because I can’t concentrate on anything through the starvation and occasional gunfire.  It’s all terribly distracting.  Apparently, I’m here until the end of my days, which means my Sudoku puzzle book will go unfinished.  But worst of all, I’ll never see that charmingly tall grunt again.  They may break my bones, but my broken heart hurts most of all.

24 comments:

  1. FREE THE M.F.J. ONE!!!! FREE THE M.F.J ONE!!!!!

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    1. I didn't understand your comment so I Googled it. Are you referring to radio antennas?

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  2. The scariest thing about stuff like this is I have such a small amount of faith in humanity I can see this happening.

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    1. At the moment it's parody, but how long it until it becomes reality?

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  3. I love the very idea that they were morally against waterboarding so their idea of torture would be to go jet skiing. That was great. That really is what they should do, make the suspect friends, go on dates, court the prisoner and he/she will tell you everything in passing conversation. Good thinking.

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    1. Very persuasive technique there, although a little time consuming. It might take a little less time to pull someone's nipples off instead.

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  4. I don't see why Edward Snowden keeps running, if all they're going to do is subject him to water skiing and ice cream and sunset strolls.

    Oh wait, I bet it's the Dan Brown audiobooks. No human being should be subjected to those. That's just cruel.

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    1. I know. I think Dan Brown has been banned under the Geneva Convention, and technically constitutes a war crime.

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  5. After reading this, I sat in Dewey Square with a whistle I bought from a dollar store and blew it until I was red in the face. To my dismay, I was not invited on a jet skiing adventure. Instead, I was beaten mercilessly a street performer and his trumpet. Since when did they start making those things out of brass?

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    1. You poor soul. Obviously the government aren't very good at catching dirty rotten scoundrels such as yourself.

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  6. At least they didn't torture you with thirst.

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    1. No, they used a lot of water, which was actually quite refreshing. They could have spiced things up by giving me a spot of tizer instead, but beggars can't be choosers I guess.

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  7. Hehe..torture indeed as you have been left with a broken heart :( But take some joy from the word buoy...I have recently become addicted to Bondi Rescue and when they say buoy as boo-ey, i always giggle! lol You should too.

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    1. I do enjoy that word. I never know whether to pronounce it "boo-ey" or "boy". I think "boy" must be correct due to the word buoyant being pronounced "boy-ant" and not "boo-ey-ant".

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  8. I don't want to sound like a know it all but I totally knew you were the one responsible for the Scooby Doo stuff.

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    1. And I would have gotten away with it too if it wasn't for you pesky Bloggers.

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  9. I agree with Mr H and will say . . . . . . . FREE THE M.F.J. ONE!!!!

    But I do agree with you also as I don't have a clue what Mr H means, I did wonder if he is saying free the Misunderstood Football Junior One, or with the addition of an S and an R it might be Free the Mr F. Jones. . . . . Well we all know Mr Jones is an innocent man who sadly got leaks and leeks a bit confused, after all he is Welsh.

    Are you allowed visitors I could send the cat.

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    1. I don't know if cats are allowed in prison. There's a guy with a split lip who all the inmates keep stroking, so he might be half cat or something.

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  10. I always wanted to go jet skiing! Tell them where to find me. Tell them I spied on my hot neighbour once, which clearly makes me a spy and deserving of a day out on jet skis. With the hot neighbour.

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    1. I'll tell them where to find you, if you tell me where your hot neighbour lives.

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  11. I heard that it was, in fact, the elephant man who came up with the whole idea behind Scooby Doo. Also, I liked this a lot! x

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    1. I knew it! That pesky John Merrick!

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  12. Simply want to say your article is as surprising. The clarity to your publish is simply excellent and i could assume you are a professional on this subject. Fine along with your permission allow me to grasp your feed to stay updated with drawing close post. Thank you 1,000,000 and please carry on the gratifying work.
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    ReplyDelete
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    1. Not at all. Thank you 1,000,000 for thanking me 1,000,000. That's 1,000,000 thanks to you, my gratifying friend who is definitely not a spambot or anything.

      Delete

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