But if you must panic…
Hello! Here in Smolensk butcher shop, we continue take interest in UK panic.
I is suspicion British love panic. In last post I suggest there no need > http://konnolsky.tumblr.com/post/20108217377/dont-panic But you panic anyway. Why? Tanker strike? That postpone. No. Crisis made by measures to prevent crisis. Petrol buying to manage petrol shortage has cause petrol shortage. So you panic.
And maybe I wrong about panic. Perhaps it help. Therapy. If you at end of wit, in funk about foot and mouth, MMR vaccine, or something really important, like pasties, brain is distract from think about difficult matter, such as UK return to recession. That why you got Francis Maude. Fuel panic will subside. But don’t worry: Maude soon return and say something put you all in shaking fear. Maybe he panic you about public sector pensions (when all study show they affordable). Perhaps he do further statement on party funding and cause Downing Street panic so much PM contradict it entirely. Or maybe he announce another bonfire of quangos, and invite British public to fill jerry cans and set fire to redundant public bodies, like Health and Safety Executive.
So panic if you wish. But if you do, take precaution. Panic has consequence. The Maude Effect: what happen me when I contemplate imminent visit of wife Irina’s mother (who call me affectionate name, “The Idiot”), what happen my assistant Yuri whenever he must talk to our boss, Smolensk oligarch Big Oleg, and what happen when you eat too many thrush liver pie.
Evacuation.
If British panic too much, your country start smell like Vadim Fingerov, Smolensk veterinarian and porcine proctologist. Fortunately, I have invent solution.
At start this month, me and Yuri in shop reading about world’s youngest female billionaire, Sara Blakely. She behind modern girth-reduction undergarment, Spanx.
“Yuri,” I say. “I think it time we billionaires.”
“You right boss,” say Yuri. “We do whole not billionaire thing long while now.”
“Exactly. Time for change.” We decide produce rival to Spanx and retreat into shed. After only ten minutes we proud emerge with prototype. Then we confront difficult issue: what to call. Spenx not work (when Russian say, it sound to Westerner like Spanx anyway). Sponx ugly. Spinx is boxer who question Oedipus. So we choose Spunx.
Through Big Oleg contacts we advertise for someone test our innovation. Trial of restrictive pant embarrassing. Person must be willing put self through humiliations. In exchange, through Oleg contacts at Smolensk TV, we guarantee massive publicity. Soon perfect candidate contact us.
On day our volunteer due arrive, old Babushka Vanka in shop, buying usual minced ram testes she believe will cure her cat Yermolai of effeminacy. She huge delight when I say Gorgeous George is come. We think it because expect this man > http://ind.pn/HoWyID not this one > http://bit.ly/H0SCZF Actually we later learn she hot for this George > http://bit.ly/H51miB (Yuri even more confuse and expect one his heroes > http://bit.ly/H1Nj0g) So when our George arrive Vanka faint. George lie on ground and miaow at her in gallant attempt resuscitate. She wake up, thinking it Yermolai, then scream and faint again. Eventually, George revive her with fragrant cigar. Smoky fug hide his face so we able smuggle Vanka out of shop before collapse again. George very complimentary.
“Sir,” he say. “I salute your courage, your strength, your indefatigability.” Then film crew arrive and we start trial.
Principle simple. George strip in front of cameras while Yuri mix strong concrete. Then, we apply mix to George ass, thighs, Ivan and torso. Water evaporate and concrete shrink. We want it contract inwards and flatten George bulk. So we wrap mix in thin tin foil – tain – binding tighter as concrete set. After few minute we remove Spunx tain. Then, we paint concrete red. George look like this > http://bit.ly/HrRX3U in wonderful TV footage of him launching Spunx: all in one concrete flab suppressive hose. Results incredible. Concrete continue shrink. We drag clothes over rejuvenate George, who change first to this > http://bit.ly/Hv9Vou then this > http://bit.ly/H4n8X5 then this > http://bit.ly/H57t6C I also don Spunx and enjoy drastic midriff shrinkage too.
Of course, concrete restrict move. Thigh and groin freeze stiff. So Yuri attach remote control cars to sole our shoes and propel us forward in stately glide. George impress. As camera roll, he praise me again.
“Sir, I salute your concrete, your Spunx, your slim the fatty ability.”
To celebrate invention Big Oleg invite us dine at Happy Kalashnikov Bar.
Great event. Much drink, though George only have milk he lick and lap from lady guest hands, and enormous quantity of food. After feast, George salute gangster Oleg for “your morals, your heart, your Russian warmth and civility”. Then Yuri take us toilet. At once we realise Spunx design flaw. Original Spanx have aperture that permit relief. But we fail take similar precaution of leave gap in concrete. So our waste disposal system enclose. George who drink less than me shrug. But I desperate.
We try everything: sledgehammer, drilling, I even hurl myself off roof of bar. No use. Concrete solid.
“I’ve got to get out,” I hiss as Yuri move remote control cars one forward, other back, again and again in small, rapid, on spot steps. Then I send him to Oleg arsenal in bar basement for weapons.
“There are no weapons of mass destruction here,” announce George. “It is a neocon lie.”
“Actually, on this occasion…” Yuri return with thermonuclear detonator, anti-tank gun and dynamite. I decide first too extreme. So Yuri load bazooka, aim and fire. Blast impact blow me off feet. Concrete pant shatter. Jet of foul smelling liquid spurt from me like animal at bay spray predator, and I wonder if we should have call our invention Skunks.
Unable find another shell for tank gun, we suggest George strap dynamite to midriff and detonate. He refuse and say this only “morally justified” if Tony Blair nearby. We return party. George try enjoy self. But by end of evening he in trouble.
We attempt many expedient, but unable free him. George encase in concrete drawers for three full day. At one point, as we break yet another hydraulic pile driver on his ass, George scream “PAVEL, I’M FULL OF SHIT!” What interesting is our patent pant provide perfect aural and aromatic sealant. We unable hear or smell unpleasantness.
Eventually, we have idea. We persuade Oleg take George aboard his plane – luxury converted Lun class Ekranoplan troop carrier. We fly UK. As hover at 10 000m over northern city, we open doors. George try say goodbye.
“Sir, I salute your…” But Yuri push him out. George plunge towards ground in west Bradford. Impact shatter pant. Excrement spray far and wide, all over city and right across England. Some even reach Westminster and splatter Ed Miliband.
So, next time UK do big panic, next time Francis Maude (that happen waiting to accident) open mouth, consider advantages of our excellent garment. It allow you panic in British way. Moan sure, but repressed, pent up, stiff lower abdomen match stiff upper lip. And no embarrassing noise or smell.
Or you could take material used in manufacture of Spunx and construct sound-proof box for Francis Maude. Or even concrete swimming costume. Smolensk newspaper Volga News understand Downing Street contemplate giving Maude this very present.
