The Turtle appears in front of Kumu and a letter from BHS
After reading a Kumu poem the Turtle said:
Although this is what the Turtle wanted to say “I’ d prefer cell number 3, a chinese takeaway and a couple of beers?” she decided to avoid saying such a thing to Kumu, maybe another time..
>>> TURTLE love it! excellent one, your voice.
>> KUMU REALLY? yeah i used to love my voice. pffffffft now i am normal again and i don’t love anything that has to do with mois.
>> TURTLE well really!
>>
>> Major PFFFFFFFFFFF to you then…
>>
>> *stomps off in a huff*
>>
>> *mumbles something inaudible*
>>
>> *farts*
ARREST THIS TURTLE AND THROW HER IN THE VOLCANO!
pffffffft
> KUMU yes, when you talk in london accent IT IS INAUDIBLE! PFFFFFFFFFT
> TURTLE yea r ri no -itz zabout been at ‘ome innit!
>
> KUMU AND don’t you flatter kumu in front of the sealions!!!!!!! pffffffft or haven’t you seen them playing poker ??
>>TURTLE i see again, you dont need to smoke anything at all…
> KUMU
WELL THEY ARE HERE TO PAY THEIR TAXES OF COURSE AND THE GUARDS JUST COULDN’T SAY NO, THEY INTEND TO PAY THEIR TAXES BY WINNING THE GUARDS WHICH IS NOT DIFFICULT, GUARDS ARE TAX FREE CITIZENS AND I SELECT THEM ACCORDING TO THEIR ABILITY TO PLAY POKER, IF I CAN WIN THEM ANYBODY CAN WIN THEM. PFFFFFFFFT
> TURTLE i am a five card trick
>
> wrote a poem once…
>
> hehehee
>
> *spits at the sealions*
THEN THE LETTER ARRIVED
Dear Kumu
Last night in my gracious bedchamber I was awoken by the music of angels and a great sparkling luiminescent figure appeared at the foot of my bed, his sequinned coat and permatanned complexion made me realise he was in fact the ghost of Liberace come to impart some holy message from beyond the veil- I sat up in bed and scrabbled around on my nightable for my glasses- when I had located these I asked Lib if he would just take a seat on the end of my bed while I went downstairs to find a pen and some paper- he was a bit grumpy about it because he was on those amazing theatrical wires that present the illusion of flight- and he had to get his hot pink mobile out and tell his ‘assistant’ Scotty to ‘lower me gently onto the baby pink satin counterpane already’ I told him he could have a nose through my books if he wanted, but warned him not to go near the bottom drawer (where I keep my bottoms) but to be on the safe side I took it with me- you can’t be too careful these days- anyway yada yada yada I came back with the pen- stopping on the way to dust carefully a few knick knacks on my hall table that had gotten neglected during my housework that day because I was thrown in the volcano four (4) times :rolls eyes: anyway when I got back he had fallen asleep, he looked really cute in his feather boa and white slip on shoes and his wig had slipped a bit giving him a kind of deranged ventriloquists dummy appearance- so I got out my mobile phone/ video camera etc. and filmed him for a while with lots of funny objects (don’t ask) then I got bored and went to sleep- when I woke up this morning nothing remained but a big shiny ring and a note which read in fancy curlicue handwriting ‘Don’t call the new theme park KUMUWOOD- that sucks and isn’t even a pun- IT IS WRITTEN THAT THE NEW ISLAND THEME PARK MUST BE CALLED ‘HULAWOOD!’
aaaaaaaagh!
bhs.
BHS writes an article on Shmoo crisis. The Turtle replies. And more.
The residents of our neighbouring island have been whipping themselves into a frenzy and getting into a right old pickle over the annual prize Gherkin competition, natives of the island which is said to be among the most unprofitable in the world are said to have an ‘unrivalled passion’ for Gherkins and other types of exotic pickled cucumber, this competition which features categories such as ‘tastiest’ ‘largest’ and ‘most suggestively shaped’ gherkins has been held on the beachfront adjacent to the HUlA-LALA restaurant for as long as any of the residents can remember- our roving reporter Kevin McBevin spoke to one of the contestants, unaware of the historic nature of his conversation:
Kevin McBevin: What is your name?
Anonymous-resident: hmmm pffft What is *your* name? pffft
Kevin McBevin: My name is Kevin McBevin, and I’m from the ‘Shmoo Island Observer’ I’m a roving reporter dontcha know?
Anonymous resident: PFFFT! WHY I NEVER HEARD OF SUCH AN ISLAND! ARREST THIS ROVING REPORTER AT ONCE AND THROW HIM IN THE VOLCANO -HE IS OBVIOUSLY A SPY! LOOK HIS EYES ARE WAY TOO CLOSE TOGETHER, I BET THAT SPITTING TURTLE HAS SENT HIM TO STEAL THE SECRETS OF MY PICKLING TECHNIQUE!
Kevin McBevin: Err well there won’t be any need for that please don’t throw me in the volcano!
It was at this point in the interview that things took a turn for the worse, 12 burly Swedish hula students emerged from the surrounding palms and began to drag me, Kevin McBevin your courageous and roving reporter towards the magma spewing mouth of an enormous volcano situated handily right next to the beach andclose to all civic amenities, as I was being pulled nearer and nearer the lip of the volcano and my certain death-I called bravely for assistance from a turtle who was reading a copy of ‘Gherkin Monthly’ on the steps of city hall, the turtle who was obviously having trouble understanding my Shmooian accent just spat into a Turtloon(TM) and began to do a rather graceful and suggestive looking hula in the road in front of my captors, I can only assume that this kindhearted turtle was trying to distract the Hula Militia from this obvious act of aggression against a citizen of the ISLE OF SHMOO- at this point a rather harrassed lady in a grass skirt and coconut shells leaned out of the window of a neighbouring ‘super luxury condo’ and threw a half full jar of pickles at a rather handsome yet mysterious bearded young man proudly displaying his erection at the end of her garden, when she saw me she muttered something and hurriedly slammed the window.
All I can say is gherkins or no gherkins, this constitutes a personal affront to the Island of Shmoo and it’s residents and having submitted my report to the foreign office and inter-isle combat department I can confirm that as of 12.00pm local time the Island of Shmoo is once again at war with the most unprofitable Island in the world, it is believed at the time war was declared that a spokesman for the KUMU maintained that Kevin McBevin was a pickle spy, and vowed to win the competition despite the outbreak of hostilities.
Turtle:
Caught on AquaCamera today, the Turtles are all beside themselves, of course polishing their shells with CilitBang (TM) making them impermeable to the Shmoo misile attack expected later today. Pink cute googles are mandatory for all Turtlinis in the UnRoyal Airfarce. Look out for the Spitfire Ninja fly-by, expected to boost morale before the Grand Opening of the Gherkin Competition
Lady Mayor has vowed that whomever it was who defaced the GreatGherkin display on Vinegar Street will be very sorry as there are not enough erections of such beauty in this unsavoury part of town – all melons and coconuts will be removed by a trained specialists at great cost to The Department of Urban Affairs, before the Competition begins.
All exploding gherkins have resigned gracefully from the competition and have willingly signed up to the war effort.
Pickles in general will line the streets of the most profitable town and General Pickle will make a speech, urging all residents of Vinegar Street to sing with The Pickled Eggs and the HulaHula Choir in a touching rendition of “A Jar too Far”. The Best Hula Student will debut with a haunting solo performance of the classic “Dill Will be Lost Without Me”.- be sure not to miss it!
News in Briefs wishes all of its readers soon to be nostalgic and warm war effort thoughts at this difficult and most profitable time. Bless us one and all.
BHS
Don’t forget at the climax of the evening I shall also be singing my own unique HI-NRG version of The Pickle-emes classic ‘When Dill I see you again’ whilst simultaneously hulaing and limboing, on the back of a specially designed float which has been decorated and built by the turtlini’s to look like a 28foot long extra sour polish pickle, then I shall hand over to the KUMU who will set off with grace and aplomb the celebratory Fireworks display which has been cleverly devised by our islands own pyrotechnics expert to tell the story of the great KUMU pickle of 1845 which was grown by Mrs Hester Palooma of Limbo Lane and bore a mysterious resemblance to our very own KUMU’s great great great grandmother the KIMIKALA.
After that we’ll be downing a few pints of Kumquat Absinthe in the HULALALA and heading off in our hollowed out palm tree boats
(also cleverly camouflaged as pickles)on the first top secret, highly covert, reconnaissance mission too the Isle of SHMOO *spits* where we will be depositing several undercover turtles whose mission is to form an underground alliance and report back any secret pickling information from the SHMOOIAN *spits* war cabinet.
be there or be thrown in the volcano!
The Turtle writes a song:
Oh! Oh! Oh! It’s a Lovely War!
Up to your waist in vinegar,
Up to your eyes in slush,
Using the kind of language
That makes the sergeants blush;
Who wouldn’t join the army,
That’s what we all enquire,
Don’t we pity the poor pickles
Sitting beside the fire ?
Chorus:
Oh! Oh! Oh! It’s a lovely war,
Who wouldn’t be a gherkin soldier, eh ?
Oh, it’s a shame to take the pay.
As soon as reveille has gone
We feel just as heavy as lead,
But we never get up till the sergeant
Brings our pickled breakfast up to bed.
What do you want with pickled eggs and ham
When you’ve got plum and gherkin jam ?
Form fours! Right turn!
How shall we spend the money we earn ?
Chorus
When does a soldier grumble ?
When does a soldier make a fuss ?
No one is more contented
In all the world than us.
Oh, it’s a cushy life, boys,
Really, we love it so;
Once a fellow was sent on leave
And simply refused to go.
Chorus
Come to the cook-house door, boys,
Sniff at the lovely stew,
Who is it says the colonel
Gets better gherkins than you ?
Any complaints this morning?
Do we complain ? Not we.
What’s the matter with lumps of gherkin
Floating around the tea ?
Chorus
From Shay, Pious Friends and Drunken Companions
WW1 song adapted by The Picked Eggs
In a way this is how everything started…
First of all I am not English, I am Greek, this is the story of Kumu lady mayor of the most profitable town on the most unprofitable island in the world, and Kumu’s citizens, hula students, who are in fact the citizens, objects, sea turtles and sea lions (and a few other characters). Kumu has a sister, the Evil Kaka and a brother the notorious seaman Kumukala. Kumu’s best citizen is no other than the Best Hula Student, an English woman that organizes hula lessons, prods Kumu every now and then with the limbo stick, makes sure the only stores in the town are the Kumu stores and that Swedish tourists find their way to the Hula Beginner Meeting Point. Kumu also respects and likes in a very disrespectful and authoritative way the Turtle, an English female turtle, who is one of the best journalists of this town, if not the only journalist that managed to live on this island for more than 3 hours. Kumu likes to arrest people, therefore there are a lot of prisons in the town. Kumu’s officers arrest objects and intractable citizens. Sometimes they arrest everyone. The only character that has never been arrested is BHS. The Turtle is continuously arrested. Kumu also loves releasing prisoners. After spending some time in the Kumu prisons where they drink rum and watch various soap operas most prisoners want to return.
The Tax system is pretty interesting on the island. All taxes are direct and there is no so such thing as tax rebate. Kumu is a great economist. Some people object but what are the prisons for? Here comes the good part… The island didn’t have a volcano. Also the town’s sunset was ridiculous. Well guess what? Kumu bought a fake volcano, fake lava, extra fake sand – that causes allergic reactions only to elephants, and a fake huge poster of a great sunset.
First a history lesson, we are amazing so we have enemies. The Shmoo Island. The traditional food on both islands is …pickles. But we are very organized and very bright and they are not. So they steal our pickles. And we bring them back!
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