Sunday, May 16

About last week...

OH~ It's good to be back!

no applause? What? nobody missed me? Erm... Right. I get it. Your're all pissed-off as to why there was a dip in number of posts. Internet trolls and cyber bullies, allow me to unravel what we were up to last week - a week of stealth and deception, paranoia and anxiety, impersonation and trickery...So... about last week...

To suggest that my column is only late because I spent Thursday eating nachos and screaming at the Real Madrid players on my television is positively ludicrous, and you open yourself up to legal action if you even consider that as a possibility. My column is complete, and I am in fact rubbing it all over my naked body as I type this, so excuse any typos.

Truth of the matter is - I am not Iron man.

But I digress. You see, on Saturday night last week, we received a call from a syndicate who code named themselves Shadow Government. It sounded urgent and pressing and the man on the other line had a British accent. Here's the actual recorded conversation...

Man on the other line: Hello? We would like to speak to Agent Han.

me: Hola Amigo! It great to hear from you! How has it been, my brotha-from-anotha-motha!

Man: Er... I don't think we've met befo...

me: Bullshit! C'mon man, those hookers you intro'd me to! They were AWESOMEEEE! When are you gonna take me there again? C'mon man! How about tonight?

Man: Erm, Sir, I don't know you and I don't know what you're talking about. Can we speak to Agent Han please.

me: Bahh cut the act Johnny! We both clearly know what I'm talking about. *winks* Eh? Johnny?

Johnny: How- did- How did you even know my real name- My wife doesn't even- How-

me: C'mon take me there again and lets party! *winks* *winks*

At this point, 'Agent' Han walks into the room and grabs the phone from me
"Stop winking u idiot! He can't see you wink from the phone!"

'Agent' Han then takes the phone into another room which was equipped with sound proof glass doors for the sole purpose of keeping my prying ears out.

After a lengthy and nerve-wrecking 26 seconds, Agent Han emerges from the room and says,
"Assemble Team Samba. We have a target."

Shadow Government?! Agent Han?! Team Samba?! WTF is going on?!


To spare you the confusion and a whole fairy tale elaborately thought up by a 24 year old in the toilet taking a dumb because he had finished using his internet bandwidth from surfing porn, Team Samba signed up for Streetwars.

Just the facts:

- Streetwars is a 3 week long, 24/7, water gun assassination tournament.

- Team Samba consisted of Agents Han, Des, Xun and myself, Zw.

- Agent Han wets his pants every night in bed.

Now I know what your're thinking. You're thinking that its so selfish of sixguys, who would rather play a stupid water gun game than to spend their time writing posts for your entertainment and enlightenment. You're also thinking about porn.

But let me tell you this.

Streetwars ain't no stroll in a park.

We spent everyday living in fear.

That cleaner at the staircase of my block? A well-trained assassin skilled in the arts of disguise.

That unassuming rubbish chute? A planned ambush set up by guerrilla commandos.

That vehicle in your rear view mirror? Step on the accelerator and lose him!

All these happenings while we rack our brains trying to hunt our target and finish him off with a point blank double tap to the head.

AWESOME! YOU GUYS ARE SO COOL! WE LOVE YOU AND WANT ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TO SEND YOU NUDE PICS (of girls)!!!

Alas, all good things come to an end. But not necessarily a good end. Streetwars was shut down, a week into the tournament. Apparently, Shadow Government faults licencing issues but we all know that it was because they couldn't handle the fire that Team Samba had started.

Team Samba had 2 kills in 5 days and we were ready for the 3rd.

But at least we can finally return to the life of simple folk. Dwelling in padi-fields and watching the cattle graze... Life may not be as exciting as it was, but at least there wouldn't be 4 paranoid agents, looking over their shoulders every now and then, ready to spring into a watery gunslinger soaking action.



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