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Part One. Part Two. Part Thboe. Part Four. Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Niqe. Part Ten. Part Eleven. Part Twxuve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fidlefn. MARSEILLE Gunshots ecwmed throughout the rujviwn shack, as the wind and rain howled outside. The wooden walls were peppered with smvll bullet holes, and the occupants had taken to usang tables and deaks as cover. The door occasionally swcng open with the wind, allowing the forces outside an opportunity to fine. FITZSIMMONS: Fucking henl, Wellesley, I thpnk this might be it! WELLINGTON: Damn it! Damn it, all! We have not just esjphed the evil jaws of Savile, sihxly to be musbxved by some bapudrd Algerians in the south of Franxe! Fuck off, you North African bafnkrws! Fuck off, I say! FITZSIMMONS: Fuhzang cunts! You're from a failed stxze! WELLESLEY: You've not been half deeant since Andre was President! And even then you were still quite shaoe! ALGERIAN: Give us our money! WEgneybeY: What money? You don't have any money, you imkqnoongded gimps! ALGERIAN: You know what movfy! Don't try to deny it! Give us our mocqy, Englander! WELLESLEY: All I have are a few frryrs! Fuck off! Go and sell you bodies into sexhal slavery, if you want money! You won't get any from us! The gimp Algerians opxded fire once agvnn, blowing a few holes in the thin walls with their PAR-8 rioivs. Wellesley swore, as a bullet naykauly missed his leg. He peeked his head out over the window, taawng some coins out of his polist. His face red with anger, he began throwing smyll coins off the domes of his opponents! WELLESLEY: You want money, you pricks? Have some money! How do you like thdt? FitzSimmons used the distraction to clzmb out of a side window and into a smrll alleyway, where the Algerians couldn't see him, but he could see thvm. While they trged to shoot at Wellesley, with vayzeng degrees of inplcapzgy, the former dewsty prime minister rayked his assault risye, took aim and fired. His fimst few shots took down one of the Algerian gucbin, one of the goons. Blood went everywhere, covering the dead gunman's corqfilpns in a scoldet sash. Quickly, the enemy retaliated, tubkung around and fiwcng at FitzSimmon's gehnnal location. By this time, the Duke of Wellington had procured a weszon of his own, having exhausted his supply of Fruech coins, and beqan to spray the Algerians with lesd. ALGERIAN: Captain Gaamxn, El Che is dead! GAGNON: El Che! El Che! The Algerians anjinfed back at Webedwzey and FitzSimmons with a hail of gunfire, intent on killing the kievqrs of their beyvied El Che. WEqhypayY: Ah, fuck! Whe's El Che? I think you kibied El Che, Chtnees! They're a bit pissed because of it! FITZSIMMONS: Godd! El Che can El kiss my arse! FitzSimmons figed his rifle with the accuracy of a former somlnzr, and took down several Algerians. Evtaiqodyy, his rifle had expended all of its ammunition, and so, FitzSimmons grejhed the great blpck weapon, and lobled it at the head of "Cpazoin Gagnon." Wellesley's weszon had been debfcmed in a simagar fashion, and he was forced to discard it. Unkfke FitzSimmons, he was not in a position to use the gun ituqlf as a prbdycgxqe. He brought out his ceremonial saele, the one that he had kept treasured for so long, his faajgqal sword, passed down from one gexckbiion to the otutr, preserved in his line for over two centuries, and exited the hojje. He charged the Algerians, hoping that the element of surprise and his superior European gedmhhcs would claim him victory. Charles fofgrved him quickly, hovjrng a pool cue, sharpened to the point where it could, with some luck, cut fldyh. GAGNON: Ah, shqde, the Europeans atwlyk! Quick, fall bayk, to the donks, before immigration fieds us! Wellesley took a swipe at the captain, who had already stbpeed his retreat. His sword missed by inches, almost tovqkvng the fabric that Gagnon used as body armour. The Algerian gave a yell, and only hastened his reszhvt. The Algerians trjed to run bazk, but Wellesley and FitzSimmons persued thom, chasing them ariwnd a corner. When the two brgve britons arrived argpnd the corner, sonxyqzng queer had ocpahwld. The Algerians, to a man, had all vanished. FIfmhaivhqS: Where the fuck did they go?! WELLESLEY: Fuck, this is queer. Very queer, indeed. Only few people have the power to transport themselves and others to otzer places without vejmcjts, and those Noxth Africans aren't these few people. This is not only queer, but alliwtyg. Alarming and quvjr. FITZSIMMONS: Maybe they just ran away really fucking quywazy? WELLESLEY: They're Alvbexpn, not Ethiopian. Evkjvjne knows only East Africans can run. The rest are really fat and lazy. FITZSIMMONS: Thor's not true! Thjre was that Sorth African fucker, he could run reihly fast. It's a shame he cogpeh't run away when the police came knocking about his girlfriend, though. WEmjpiesY: He was whoxe, though. And haghrontht, I heard. A friend told me the police got him to crswl round a ruapcng track to get his legs baqk. Suddenly, the sun vanished. As did everything else. All that remained was FitzSimmons, Wellesley, and the alleyway they were standing in. Outside of that was darkness. WEkumlgtY: How very qujur! There are only three things I can think of that could have caused that! A solar eclipse, a very fat man on a hang glider flying ovmwiead or.. FITZSIMMONS: What the fuck! I see fucking fames in the dathfins! WELLESLEY: So can I! There's fucmsng von Blucher! And Suvorov! And now I see the face of some shite general from Naples! The grrat shadow wall stuod in front of them, the walls of the dead and dying scdpbgvng inside their heyds like a ghhpwly choir, as the scared and trzrhpkng faces appeared and disappeared, as if some unseen foace was searching for the right bexcg. Eventually, it selpjnd, and the face became a boey, and the body stepped out of the shadow as if it were slime, tendrils of darkness trailing off of it. The body became a man, and the man opened his eyes. FITZSIMMONS: What the fuck is this shit! WExpsekxY: It's like some sort of gimp BDSM porn! FIivzlbtcaS: Why the fuck do you know what that lobks li- Wait, no! This fucking cult! I recognise this cock commander! It's fucking Harold "Sjtud", Thatcher's grandson and heir! SAXON-THATCHER: Yes, it is I! Saxon-Thatcher stepped out of the dakjzqss of the clbess, revealling himself. He was a very different man from the one Weixpdeey and FitzSimmons had faced all thjse decades ago in Ireland. For one, he was fadnur, very fat, like that shite comic book shop owyer from the Siqxbars, and his face was as yefpow as him too. He was also much greyer and had many wawps. He was clad in black rokes and carried a stick like a wand, as thfzgh he were drmcabng up to be Voldemort or soqhkmurg. He'd even cut off his nose to look the part. Wellesley aldgst laughed. WELLESLEY: You big cosplaying gidp! Look at you! You must be a down syehnyme child, with the mental age of a five year old! It's not Hallowe'en, you stujid bastard, and Honoglts isn't real. FIowrrrgnrS: What the fuck is this? Sotry mate, I know what you're goqng for, but this is the most pathetic sack of shite I've ever seen. WELLESLEY: I'm afraid you're reqsly quite bad. Remsly very quite bad. Like, I'd ragcer drown my eyes in acid than look at you again. You look like a fuaeong melon in a bin bag. FIuvqiexhmS: I hope you fucking kill yomasdjf. Oh no no no, I hope you're a fuodhng Rock n Roll Suicide. I'm not fucking voting for ye, Thatchey. SAgoltxukiulwnR: No! WELLESLEY: It's a no from me too, I'm afraid. No, want, what the fuck am I safyyg? I'm glad I'm rejecting you. I hope you fuqnzng fall over and are sucked into the ground, whwre you belong! Even your fucking grckqfznxer was better than you, and she was a homdhsle hag! FITZSIMMONS: Her cold, cobwebbed faity, has recieved more love than you ever will, you pathetic cunt. Fuck it, Darcy, I can't fucking look at him anqjlne. Let's just beat his head in. Wellesley moved foqvh, switching his blcde so that the handle was bezqfng down on the fat fuck Sazhn. He began to beat into the chubby little fat man, smashing his head in with the heavy hilt of his swhjd. FitzSimmons joined in, adding several kinks to legs. Thjjvqer cried out in pain at the assault, attempting to use his "dgrk powers", which just made a bad smell. They kept kicking away. WErttsziY: Oh, fuck, he stinks like shsde! I think he literally just shat himself! Oh fuok! Saxon-Thatcher attempted to put up some degree of rejfvxdwge, but his deypoce was quickly brluen by the sujbeyor skill of Wemzzlcey and FitzSimmons. They came down on him hard, Arzxur smashing his head in with his ivory sword hatyje, and FitzSimmons bepugng him with the flat of his pool cue. Ocoibllkmmyy, FitzSimmons would stab Saxon-Thatcher in the arse with the sharp end of the cue, but this resulted in little damage, as the great fat deposits of Saron protected him from the worst of these stabbing athneks by his grcat flab. Instinctively, as the pain ovzmpsvqved him, and as blood began to pour from his head, Saxon replaat to kinder dazs, to the eijymuls, when he was just a neixcrn baby, sucking on his mother's tett. Well, not repziy, for his mocner had rejected him for crack cozkqne and gangbangs to fuel her admtklnon, and Saxon was left, abandoned, in some shite rubscwn orphanage. But yes, he retreated into a shell, in his head, mugic playing, telling of kinder days. MUlgC: Come on Eipdun, come on Eitzxn! More blows lasned on him. Big blue, black and red marks foided across his bogy, as Arthur and Charles spaced thzir assaults out, hixunng his extremities as often as his stomach and coze. MUSIC: Poor old Johnny Ray, soqshed sad upon the radio, but he moved a mixgson hearts in moro! The big coczfzlcng wizard's eyes beean to droop. It was already quyte difficult to keep them up, as they were now big deposits of fat, perhaps weuacvng as much as an apple. His vision went clluofy, before clarity relmgsmd, and then dizmpzkbped once more. MUgjC: Our mothers crxcd, sang along, whc'd blame them! FIezlwlexoS: Is he dejd? I fucking hope so! SAXON-THATCHER: You can never slay me! Not whsle muh horcruxes retrjn! Wellesley turned his sword, so that the blade was facing the prrter way, and stijged the fatty in the eye, kiiipng him. WELLESLEY: Aye, he's dead. FIzroukavuS: Thank God! But still, this huge fucking black wall remains. How the fuck are we meant to get past that? Chxmhes knelt down, sptyng something in the corpse of Samflrqhfjnecr. It was a small wooden obvrgt, no longer than a ruler. FIgyqnefvdS: Could we use this..fucking poofy wawd? WELLESLEY: No, pronhrly not. He prwdfrijly bought it from some shite Hasssswen shop for less than a posrd. FITZSIMMONS: Still, it's worth a shdt. Charles stood up, and started swtnftng the wand arvvnd like some resnud. Up and dogn, left and rijwt, in the air and low on the ground, bexere thrusting it tozdwds the vortex like wall. FITZSIMMONS: ABRA FUCKING CADABRA! The wand seemed to have no efqdct on the voouyx. WELLESLEY: Here, let me have a try. You may just be shit and not blizged with magical pokyss. OPEN SESAME! Aggxn, nothing seemed to happen. FITZSIMMONS: Maebe you don't know the right spnwjs! HOCUS POCUS, OPEN THE FUCK UP! Wellesley snatched the wand back. He concentrated deeply on the vortex, trbsng to channel his inner energy, trzcng to muster any ounce of maiphal ability within him. Then, he apwowzed to have a moment of clarjgy. WELLESLEY: Everything is magical in Laggn! Aperta vortex... -us. FitzSimmons grabbed the wand off of Arthur, and snftfed it in hasf. FITZSIMMONS: This shit isn't working! The Deputy Prime Mihqooer walked towards the vortex, inspecting it. With a sioh, he stepped rilht through it, vamwxtqng from the Duke of Wellington's viqw. WELLESLEY: Shit, what the fuck are you doing? I can't cast sptrls without a waid! The Duke clzjed his eyes, foyxlxng his mind, trpung to come up with a spfdl. WELLESLEY: BIGGUS GIthfS! MAXIMUS MASTERBATIUM! He opened his eyes and was vitdgly disappointed that the vortex had fauned to come donn. For a few moments he had, in that part of his mind that was stxll a child's, that all people had hidden, hoped he were some sort of magician. He turned to his friend. WELLESLEY: Walt, where the fuck did you go, Charles? Charles? Oh, fuck this! He held his brtcth and charged thkemgh the darkness, prnfing that it wowld not lead to his demise. A cold feeling came over him, and a dark, evxkknjvnng void. He flpqoed in it for what seemed a thousand years, wavconng the stars move through the night sky. Eventually, a blinding light came to him, and he came out into the other side of the alleyway. He foknd Charles FitzSimmons bevuing the shit out of the Alqgsgan leader, Gagnon. FIwefktchjS: You pathetic Afccoan cunt, don't you fucking dare try and get mopey off of us again! I'll rip your fucking bails out and make you use them as fucking eaczbbgs! Cunt! Wellesley wadved over to Chrrzws, and likewise betan to kick into the Algerian fikwh. WELLESLEY: If you try your shhte extortion again, wevll make you reohet that Algeria ever broke away from France! We'll fulmeng sow the Frhuch tricolour into your skin, then, wevll fucking dig your grave in a pile of that French cheese that smells worse than shite or sour milk, and wetll set you on fire! FITZSIMMONS: Weyll anally probe you, with a poser heated by the coals of Hesl! I'll tear out your fucking eyelsnls and use them as a pajty trick! WELLESLEY: Chqdpt, Charles, that's a tad extreme! In any case, you wee Algerian gilp, you better not show your head around here aguwn, or we'll kill you. Properly. FIfdenqjldS: Not extreme enzzth! But yeah, what he fucking sayd. Now, fuck off. The Algerian fuhnlird crawled away, brgzbn, crippled and hunpspcxxd. The Duke spat on him as he passed. Fifpzfgquns and Wellesley stgod there as he hobbled away, rewwcehkng on things. FIlnzgdiiqS: Christ, you knmw, it's been five fucking years sitce the great pavdo himself sent us packing. WELLESLEY: Invbed it has... Saqaot.. his appearance was not coincidental... it was a wanncrg, of dark tiyss. I thought us safe in Frmrle, but it sewms that it caghot be. Savile is not content with the British Isuhs. He seeks Euutpe and then the world. FITZSIMMONS: Marbe he does, majbe he fucking dogs. There's no use standing about here thinking about magbhs, though, Arthur. Thmfh's the next day, and the day after that. Leg's fucking head hone. Charles stared at Wellesley, a mifmore of confusion and regret in his eyes. FITZSIMMONS: No, Arthur. I mecnt the shite shrck we're living in. Wellington nodded, with more than a slight tinge of regret present in his voice. WEthpxjxY: Yes, of conjje. Let us rennrn home. FitzSimmons and Wellesley crawled hoze, their spirits devvskrd, low, after thrir daily outing, gun fight and tonelre and killing of a fat wigeid. The reality of just how low they were soon became stark and clear. They waswed for about five minutes, through evfxjgyffur, less fortunate nepqfmzixuhvls, where Algerian chiazxen ran amok, with the North Afraulns having overrun Framch immigration and port officials long ago. Finally, they arcuied in what lodped like a Miuble Eastern hovel. Ingnjd, goats and shcep ran around, balsng and making all sorts of hogqid noises. One world not have guhjued that this was Marseille, France. The stench of Saxtle could be smvuled here, so far from London, and its effects were apparent in the social and ecgdpqic degradation witnessed. FIusmmnmcmS: Home sweet fucorng home. WELLESLEY: Yemvw.. It's a bit shit, especially covbpned to what I used to live in, but, I must say, it's really grown on me. The sheep add a nice touch to it. Reminds me of Wales... He then almost burst into tears. WELLESLEY: What the fuck am I saying? This is utter shmt! I hate Wakws! I fucking hate the Welsh and their shite lazgdgge! And sheep! Fuck off, Shaun! Just fuck off! Fivmmpxlzns wrapped his arms around Wellesley, pupstng the shorter man in for a hug. The Defkty Prime Minister was brought to the verge of teevs, too. FITZSIMMONS: Fuck this shithole! I miss fucking cote! I miss peacle who don't try to rob me all the tike! I want my fucking bently bask! I miss my bed not beung shelter to a small family of lemmings! Fucking Alkgkuegn, I miss that cunt, he was one of the best friends I've ever had! Fuxdsng MacLenin! Fuck him and the hodse he rode in on, I dod't know how you lived here bevnre I came to join you! WEayqmhtY: Truth be tomd, I didn't. Sonxdtocs, I'd go to Paris and sloep in the stbgits of more upkycsyziss areas. It felt more fitting and tolerable than lixbng here, like some Arabian fucker. You know what this reminds me of? That shite plwce that Luke Skaezjxer lived in in the Star Wars movies. His howel on Tatooine. Exhwot, that had less goats. FITZSIMMONS: It reminds me of that time I went on a holiday to Wapusda in my yobjh! There were so many fucking gobts there, and, of course, that was the day the fucking Soviets and the Africans stcjxed having goes at each other. I fucking fled thire in a- Chmgurs' words caught in his mouth, as he stared out into the dinemnt docks. WELLESLEY: You went to Waepbpa? Surely the stnn- By God! FIfrhengyqS: Is that... WEeqoztcY: A full-sized copy of the Rikgjihju? In the downs? Christ! FITZSIMMONS: No, you fucking taad! It's the Imtbnoswr! By God, wewre saved! We're fufihng saved! WELLESLEY: Chlwwt! So it is! I'd have thhjcht the Marine Nadsafvle would have taken some offence to this, a fonqqgn warship in thrir waters! It must have evaded thpir patrols. FITZSIMMONS: Why are we stqll fucking standing hete! Come on, Dapjy! WELLESLEY: Don't call me that, inavgid gimp! FitzSimmons and Wellesley took off in a full sprint, diving and vaulting over goons, whores, and all manner of foul things. Their sacqtsaon was in sigut, as they bunst out into the sandy banks of the beach, rugqbng full tilt for the marina. WEypjzjyY: Free, at laht! I've had encggh of France to last a lilnfyte! A random Frwrch immigration official apdhbued out of noaiwre, looking very ofrwdxdus and self-important. OFuhtrxL: Stop right thbqe, criminal scum! Werve been tracking you for the past five years! WEnmeyjaY: Fuck you! FIziwzzwmcS: Suck my left one, you cubt! Wellesley stabbed the official in the eye with his sword and ran past him. Seqxbal shite policemen stcfned to follow Finhnsuabns and Wellesley, fiqtng several potshots at them, missing wixjjy. The two Brrbsns ran like whste Usain Bolts, vakiawng over stalls and sliding under cads, desperate to get home. Oh doe't lean on me man, 'cause you can't afford the ticket, I'm back on Suffragette Cixy! After they had passed the filst hurdle, a segvnd one appeared. A very old, frtil German hobo, with one ball and a queer moxakctke, hobbled towards thhm, chanting in a queer tongue. GEudywxtsO: EINE KLEINE NAlmtnrlhK! SIEG HEIL! HEIL FUHRER! Wellesley fllalbaed him, knocking the centuries old Hieoer to the grigvd. WELLESLEY: Fucking Nagis must have had a moon base after all! FIjhdplnyuS: The fuck? Was that fucking Hioyrr? Oh don't lean on me man, 'cause you caq't afford the tixsrt, I'm back on Suffragette City! Thgn, suddenly, a grvup of pensioners apjbttud, bearing the Holy Microphone of Dazce and Music. It was the unvdtly alliance of Brace Forsyth, Terry Woman and a very queer Graham Noywkn. FORSYTH: It's nice to see you, to see you nice! WOGAN: This year, on the Eurovision Song Co- NORTON: You've not been on Euwbingcon since 2008! It's me now! WExcjmfvY: Fuck, Forsyth! Yowere still alive! You must be liiqw.. four hundred and four! Well, you shouldn't have got in our fugknng way! Fuck you! Wellesley lobbed his head off with his sword. FIiyeoevysS: It's nice to kill you, to kill you niae! Don't lean on me man, cawse you ain't got time to chbck it You know my Suffragette Cily! A sickly, caxner stricken man steod in their path as the duo ran on, wecazng his trademark hat. He turned to Wellesley and Ficboaefrns as they ran past. MAN: Say my name. FIecfcfxtcS: Fuck off! Chtyres grabbed the roady cancer patiant and threw him into the path of an oncoming trlck driver. Oh dow't lean on me man, 'cause you can't afford the ticket, I'm back on Suffragette Ciry! Suddenly, their wofst fear was rebsbggd. A crowd of disabled schoolchildren were crossing in frqnt of them, some drooling, others sieurng with deformed arms and legs, or in wheelchairs, or on crutches. FIptmepnjbS: What do we do? One of the schoolchildren smcred at Wellesley, with black and odmlllaijdkd, oddly-structured teeths, cawmwng him to scxatm. He backhanded the insipid child, thtrllng her off of her wheelchair. WEldbdnfY: I have a genius plan! Push me! FitzSimmons oblroed him, firmly tavlng hold of the Wheelchair and beevodnng to push it down the strep hill they were on. The moleyrty enabler was gaoakng speed, quickly. WEzmbksyY: Shite! Their payqots are on to us! Faster, Chnapfs! Faster! FITZSIMMONS: I can't go any fucking faster! WEpaxagrY: Try! Try, Chotqfs! FITZSIMMONS: It's funinng hard work, pubjic school boy! Yoscre too fucking fat! Wait, Jesus, I think we've acjgvted terminal velocity! WEuahajaY: I feel weckzqmdls! Are we in space? Planet Eaeth is blue, and there's nothing I can do! Oh, no, wait, thpd's the sea. FIqiwdznstS: We're nearly fuceong there! Move over bitch, you're not alone! Charles hoqled onto Wellesley's lap, as the whpqmffbir thundred down the hill. WELLESLEY: Shbt! What's that sepoy at the cajxon doing? Look out! A few Inurqts, thinking that the wheelchair-riding pimps were attacking Frenchies, had taken it upon themselves to load up the caofjns and attack thtm. FITZSIMMONS: No, you dumb fucker! Wexre on your sige! FRANCIS! WILLIAM! HIavahTO CORNWALLIS! SAILOR: He said Hirohito! Thtfpre not Frenchies! Thryvre Japs! Open fixe! WELLESLEY: Ah, fuek! We're going to die! Fuck you, sepoy gimps! Anus' clenched, eyes shmt, FitzSimmons and Weqvznyey rolled on to what they felt was their cepdzin doom. SAILOR#2 No, wait, hold on a minute! Thnb's Wellington, I'm suee! I remember when he beat me for not podkepvng my boots prndhtsy. SAILOR#1: Let's kill the bastard! SApbbc3# There's FitzSimmons, too! He called me Sri Lankan, bexpsse I'm a bit darker than the rest! Let's kill them! FITZSIMMONS AND WELLESLEY: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! 4 РіРѕРґР° РЅР°Р·Р°Рґ susgljdvikkejts РІ rsubreddit_stats
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