The Nuclear Solution

As a baby, I demanded to go to the Lake District.

an advert sufficiently compelled me, a clear target market. Hook, line and sinker.

We went, obviously.

While sat around a table, camping a scream was heard from the water. There is a part of you that can see into the future, this is why there is a distinct difference between a mere scream and a blood curdling scream that can take the paint off walls and which will never leave your memory. This is also why if someone saves your life, your spirit jumps on to them never to let go, fuck that, you stay with that guy. I mean, physically - it becomes virtually impossible for you to be too far away from that glorious individual. This often leads to misunderstood underachievement and at the very least a problematic homing situation, especially with the tendency that the best of us have to travel and broaden horizons.

Furthermore, obviously, it is almost impossible for you to kill that person.

The intensity of this jumping on depends on how much horror they have saved you from. When there is a situation where the world will end without swift action then the scream is something else. The scream on the water was such - so I demanded that someone go and help them, as I was yet to actually walk the walk. I did, however, talk the talk and off my dad and older brother went, to rescue this poor soul who was somehow about to end the world with his personal misfortune.

In the early 90s, the IRA and their friendly bombings were about as bad as terrorists got. Politely they advised us to evacuate prior to their onslaught, resulting in very few deaths, if any,? in England. Why were they so conservative with their attacks? Well Maggie was an absolute nutcase, one wrong move would lead her to taking some pretty extreme measures, keen to assert her warry nature following her incredible rise to the top of, probably, the most sexist organisation possible. Women were barely driving or voting and one was already rocking a massive amount of hellish fury through any realisation of what she was missing in the way of phallus.

Tony Blair, was a wonderkid. A political force rising and wowing all who he engaged. Maggie, was a particularly big fan and often entertained young Tony who found her company enlightening and productive, obviously, given her achievement. He was also a pragmatist.

The IRA, had pulled off the perfect pisstake.

Tony in the back of the van and they were off to the Lake District to scare the shit out of him and dump him back in England having shat himself and thus delivered a scathing blow to England and it’s assumed superiority.

Vive Le Resistance. Mentioned in previous articles resistence in French, does not refer to resistance. It is the act of delivering a mortal wounding to someone whom you have no reasonable right to and in an unexplicably effective way, the spirit handing you the ammunition to hit right where it REALLY hurts. Tony is a brave man and thus took this opportunity as he believed they would kill him, make it look like an accident so as not to suffer Maggie’s wrath. He knew what they were taking from him and he delivered in line with that. IRA leadership enraged and they was in the mood to do something very silly. So they drugged him and dumped him in the water, barely conscious.

A home invasion is a fucking dangerous thing to do. Unless you are absolutely in the right to do so. Even the frailest of pensioners has the propensity to become Rambo and start mashing the shit out of you after you slip on nothing or look away at the wrong point etc. The spirit has a tendency to protect the afflicted, especially if they are innocent or worse infinitely more valuable than the attackers. Tony was fighting the good fight.

If not for my infant intervention Tony Blair would have drowned that evening. The IRA would have concocted a story of rapey and druggey deprivation proportions aimed at attacking every English person, right where it hurt, the hotel asphyxiwank level of shameful death for our brightest future leader. Of course, Maggie’s intelligence would have been one step ahead.

Rage. The rage of a bereaved lover , robbed of her happiness eternally. If only due to her love of the country and proportionately its differentiating assets. The war room assembles knowing what they were up against. The developed worlds fingers at this point, had been shaking on the trigger of Nuclear holocaust for 20 - 30 years, creating a hostile and paranoid landscape where we waited and wondered, where it would start, where it would come from. An outcome so definite and impossible lacing culture with the artistic backlash of impending doom…. Music pulsated and careered through realms unimaginable, cocaine flowing through the veins, awakening and impeding in almost equal measure.

Maggie was on one. She had a big fucking gun and one hell of a hankering to cement her position as someone who was absolutely capable of doing the job that would traditionally land in the hands of a man.

One by one, she assembled the support of each of the six keys needed to actually carry out the level of retribution which was necessary.? An assembly of the public, a fair one, gathered and we backed it. Thats a step too far, cynisisicm and hatred which could only be met with the gravest possible outcome. When they warn us about a few mancs, to take our golden child is despicable. So, she reaches up under the seat, as her starts to beat and presses the button.

Belfast, gone. In a matter of minutes. Eyes widen, hearts skip and almost immediately the regret and fear set in. What have we done here? What would the world think….America?

Nothing would have been the same after that. The political and cultural bond of UK and US falls apart and breaks in a matter of a couple of years and the world descends into hell. Mutually assured destruction.

Comforting isn’t it? How fickle this is, everything we know. How the actions of a small group of people can impact so much and for…well forever.

Nuclear weapons are a bit much for us. Its a bit too big a gun to use in close quarters and thus, we don’t want them and now we don’t have them.

Nuclear weapons are a global ecosystem. Think about how they work. Think about how possible it is for yours to be the only ones that have….grown flowers.

Also, by the way, China, those of you left alive, your intelligence service is systematically offing the government so as to effectively surrender.? The nukeo- political paradigm of the late 20th century screeches to a halt, somehow colouring just within the lines.

If you are at the front line of intelligence, you cannot trust that information with anyone. They are not scientists, they are? spies. They would be correct in killing the governing authority before they knew, protecting ultimately all of the people instead of risking any other tactic than immediate surrender. I worry this explains the recent dissapearnence of most of the Chinese government. On the bright side , this may be a perfect place to rebuild from, for the people, but truly this time.

Vlad basically sleeps on them so he was on it right away like the princess and the pea. Biden of late, from the little I see is on shaky ground.

In an ideal world, I would like to still have them to turn on and turn around to wipe any overly offending geography off the map if necessary in order to enforce our global decision to live through the future, by keeping the present. If this is leading each power to basically disintegrate into global surrender….maybe thats good! Mrrhehehe. Howver if you’re reading this, the game is fair and you are not afflicted by the spirit exclusively for whatever reason the nemesis knows is effective.

MAD. It still exists and it is cruelty, to a potentially living being that will lash back at the entire human race ending in a fate worse than a nuclear wasteland.

From the flowers of our avoided destruction may just have sprung the solution for our energy vs climate crisis, the fusion of spirit and nuke hell safeguarding our future for the paradigm of people to decide their fate in ensuring it is unacceptable to break the fundamental laws of nature which create our punishment, globally.

So joining the fight is the re-weaponised nuke, lurking in the worlds back gardens, ready to destroy and isolate the evil of any country or region that would allow operation in contrast to the best interests of the whole.

Before I was an adult I would face two more situations where everyones existence hung in the balance.

2006, Crowne Plaza, Jakarta.

International intelligence, on site, backed off, helpless to deal with such a vicious and unforgiving foe.

My friends, equally as pilled up… backed off looking at me, correctly to say this was one for me alone. They loved me.

I recognised the girl who came to the Lobby to find me once the situation arose. I recognised them but did not know their names.

Punches came in from people I had laughed with for months, weekly. Their friendly and familiar faces contorted as the mayhem of group justice took hold and more people joined the onslaught, they didn’t see me. They were no longer the people I knew. The monster had taken them.

I begged.