“The local man pictured behind me is wanted in connection with a great number of illegal acts, including but not limited to smuggling, piracy, selling drugs, illegal distillation and manufacture of spirits, prostitution. It is believe that he is armed, dangerous and in the South Welling area. If you have any information on his whereabouts, please contact South Welling police station on the number below, or if this is an emergency, please dial nine nine nine. Back to you Cathy.”
“Thanks James. Now, you’ll see behind me a picture of local man Andrew and his prize marrow. Taking the top spot in the Giant Vegetables Comparable Unity National Tournament was tough enough, but now Andrew has his sights set on the big time. Perhaps in the days to come we will be welcoming a new star into the South Welling fold. For now though, with those thoughts of Murders and Marrows, we bid you goodnight.”
“Goodnight. South Welling.”
James Buchanan removed the earpiece from his from his ear, uncomfortably warm under the studio lights. “Why did we go with the Marrow man and not supercop?”
“Because Marrow brings in viewers and Supercop makes people uncomfortable. Now, shut the fuck up and get on with the prep for nine o’clock. Fucking marrows, man. I couldn’t give a shit.” Cathy lifted the glass of clear liquid to her mouth and took a long sip. “That’s good… Water.” She trailed off as a producer approached.
Marrows. They’re the future.
As it turns out, yesterday evening my laptop suffered a catastrophic battery failure. By which I mean I forgot to charge it… Fear not, here is the offering as it was.
The Idiot in Tin Foil