Choose your own adventure

16 June 2003
George has been travelling

1.1 Rounding the bend before the departure lounge, you triple check that you still have you tickets, boarding pass and passport. You are beginning to regret your impulse newsagent buys as the plastic bag holding your magazines, chocolate, water and paperbacks (Nicci French, Naomi Klein) cuts into the palms of your hands. Yet you have a long flight ahead, and better to have discomfort now than homicidal boredom at forty thousand feet. As you wait in line to get in to the holding bay, you mentally calculate that in twelve hours time you'll be on Canadian soil.

Clearly your mental calculation wasn't so mental; alerted by the mumbling behind her, the attractive brunette in front of you turns around and smiles.

2.1 As you wait in line to get in to the holding bay, you mentally calculate that in twelve hours time you'll be on Indian soil. Clearly your mental calculation wasn't so mental; alerted by the mumbling behind her, the attractive brunette in front of you turns around and smiles. You smile back, but the queue has moved forward. Your girl (as you already begin to think of her) is handing over her documents and answering questions. She is softly spoken with a trace of an accent that you can't place. She moves and it's you. The guard makes no comment on your stupid passport photo but does raise an eyebrow slightly. You tug your tie in embarrassment and move quickly on.

Your girl is sitting by the window, the great Boeing looming up behind her. You take a seat opposite her.

2.2 The guard makes no comment on your dated passport photo but does raise an eyebrow slightly. You tug your bra strap in embarrassment and move quickly on. Your girl is sitting by the window, the great Boeing looming up behind her. You take a seat opposite her.

"Prepared, huh?" She gestures to your bags, her American twang uncomfortably loud in the small area. "I've got valium, Evian and a Cosmo, and they should see me right through". Her laugh sounds like some sort of bovine vacuum cleaner. Her charms are thinning and you don't voice your suspicions that you are both going to the same conference. You are grateful for the boarding call and get onto the plane as quickly as you can.

Your seat is a window seat. As you are cramming as much as you can into the overhead locker, a stewardess comes by and, leaning in, whispers "A word? Out back?"

3.2 You are grateful for the boarding call and get onto the plane as quickly as you can. Your seat is a window seat. As you decline the first round of the complimentary champagne, a stewardess comes by and, leaning in, whispers "A word? Out back?"

You follow her through some dark curtains whereupon you are handed a cup of fresh, strong coffee and steered towards a seat in front of a small screen. It blinks into blue light which then settles into a picture of your first-on-command, Havelock.

"This thing on?" he barks. "Good. Kingsland, your target has been targeted and triangulated. It's the Flannel Pig. There may be trouble, we just don't know. Obviously we'd prefer to keep this operation swift and move onto the debriefing but we can't use force until they break through the firewall into the mainframe. Our agents in Economy are watching. Until they slip the word, sit tight, enjoy the inflight films and we'll see you in Bankok. We're all relying on you." The screen flickers into darkness again.

You down your coffee and return to your seat. You are shaken. The Flannel Pig - of all the international murderous rogues, you had hoped against hope that it wouldn't be him. But until you are given the word, there is nothing you can do.

3.3 The Flannel Pig - of all the international murderous rogues, you had hoped against hope that it wouldn't be her. But until you are given the nod, there is nothing you can do.

For the next few hours you stare out of the window, take short, DVT-preventing walks through the aisles, and compose a love letter to your beloved girlfriend Esme. And you cannot stop your mind from racing. All of your training and preparations have brought you to this point in time, to this place here.

At somewhere over the North Pole, the word comes through. You close your eyes, flex your fingers. As the cabin crew look on nervously, you walk through the partition into economy and look forwards to find Row 54. There she is: the blonde with the Cosmo and the valium. The Flannel Pig.

4.1 There she is: next to the blonde with the Cosmo and the valium. The Flannel Pig. Your mother.

She sees you as you careen down the aisle towards her. With a bloodcurdling yell she attempts to smash the laptop that she has been using to bring the world's satellite systems down, but you are too swift for her. With one hand you grab the computer and throw it towards a waiting stewardess; with the other hand you grab her wrists to restrain her, and with the other hand you quickly manacle her to the seat. There are screams and cries all around you, but you are only alert to the evil supervillainess in front of you.

"Bitch!" your mother screams, "I should never have had you! I should have flushed you away when I had the chance!" As you manhandle her into a headlock you look down at her red sweaty-faced struggling and state "The only thing that's being flushed away now is you career as an international evil mastermind".

A stewardess runs over with a syringe of buffalo tranquilliser. As you wrestle with your mother to aim it at her upper arms she yells "We had Moscow, and Berlin! We will rise again..." and you jab the needle into her. She collapses drooling to the floor.

After the champagne celebration given to reward your bravery, the rest of the flight passes smoothly. You arrive refreshed at Toronto, where your beloved Esme meets you at the gates.

5.1 The rest of the flight passes smoothly. You arrive refreshed at Toronto, where your host family meets you at the gates.

Current clown:

18 December 2003. George writes: This List

Most recent ten:

15 December 2003. Jamie writes: Seven Songs
11 December 2003. Dan writes: Spinning Jenny
8 December 2003. Victor writes: Rock Opera
4 December 2003. Matt writes: The Mirrored Spheres of Patagonia
1 December 2003. George writes: Charm
27 November 2003. James writes: On Boxing
24 November 2003. Jamie writes: El Matador del Amor; Or, the Man who Killed Love
20 November 2003. Dan writes: Rights Management
17 November 2003. Victor writes: Walking on Yellow
13 November 2003. Matt writes: Disintermediation
(And alas we lost Neil, who last wrote Cockfosters)

Also by this clown:

1 December 2003. George writes: Charm
10 November 2003. George writes: Dead beat
20 October 2003. George writes: Shortening
29 September 2003. George writes: Manhattanites are Cleavage-Starved
11 September 2003. George writes: How to Bring Us in Line With the Future
18 August 2003. George writes: Slashtastic
28 July 2003. George writes: Underground Independent Small Press Comic Fight Club
7 July 2003. George writes: Careering
16 June 2003. George writes: Choose your own adventure
26 May 2003. George writes: Revelations
8 May 2003. George writes: Picture Perfect
14 April 2003. George writes: MetaPirate
24 March 2003. George writes: Preparation X
3 March 2003. George writes: F of x
13 February 2003. George writes: Three is the magic number
23 January 2003. George writes: Recorded Delivery
30 December 2002. George writes: Meat Bingo or Death
12 December 2002. George writes: Royal Inquisitor
21 November 2002. George writes: This Clown is Cancelled
28 October 2002. George writes: Shopping with God
3 October 2002. George writes: SaferSpoony
16 September 2002. George writes: Supercalanthropomorphicexpealidocious
26 August 2002. George writes: The deformed animal menagerie
5 August 2002. George writes: Plaice that Funky Music, Whitebait
15 July 2002. George writes: Safe as Houses
24 June 2002. George writes: Two Lions (DB/DS)
30 May 2002. George writes: Series 8
9 May 2002. George writes: Market Stall
11 April 2002. George writes: I, the Enlargened, Crunchy Product
18 March 2002. George writes: Cakexterminator
21 February 2002. George writes: Fiction Suit
28 January 2002. George writes: Spunk Gunk
31 December 2001. George writes: Fairytale of New Pork
10 December 2001. George writes: Circular
15 November 2001. George writes: A Man With No Ass Is No Man At All
22 October 2001. George writes: One Night in Heaven
27 September 2001. George writes: Uncut
3 September 2001. George writes: Porn Pants
9 August 2001. George writes: Names of the Roses
19 July 2001. George writes: No Fun Here
21 June 2001. George writes: All Your Elections are Belong to Us
28 May 2001. George writes: Pierced as Fuck
3 May 2001. George writes: My Lovely Horse
9 April 2001. George writes: Eight Hundred and Forty-Three
12 March 2001. George writes: Kill 'Em All
19 February 2001. George writes: Formal
25 January 2001. George writes: Sticks and stones
11 January 2001. George writes: A Thought on Morality
11 December 2000. George writes: You can't put that into a soufflé
13 November 2000. George writes: Lyrical Genius
19 October 2000. George writes: Wet wet wet wet wet
25 September 2000. George writes: Built on an Indian burial ground
31 August 2000. George writes: This Way
31 July 2000. George writes: Runt of the Litter

We are all Upsideclown: Dan, George, James, Jamie, Matt, Neil, Victor.

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