Dr Fox has been out in the sun for some considerable time now |
“The only way that the people of Earth can save themselves from catastrophe is to lay aside their petty squabbles and unite to launch the world’s entire stock of thermonuclear warheads at our terrible enemy, the sun,” he shrieked, producing a battered Walkman cassette player from his pocket and jabbing at the play button until the batteries fell out. “As I know this idea will sound altogether too fantastic to the narrow minds of disbelievers, I have just set the process in motion by launching Britain’s entire stock of Trident missiles into space. Now you have no choice but to follow suit, or the sun’s vengeful wrath will surely kill us all by teatime!”
“The self-destruct codes have been disabled by my trusty cyber-pet, Aibo,” he bellowed, as his white-coated attendants manhandled him back to the padded ambulance he arrived in, adding, “One day – mark my words – I, Dr Magnafox, will be revered as the visionary saviour of the human race. Incidentally, I have blueprints hidden in a secret compartment in my underpants for a gigantic golden statue of myself which will be visible from space, if a grateful human race wishes to honour me after the hour of destiny has safely passed.”
No comments:
Post a Comment