High Noon On The Moon: How MFU gets himself out of jam.   Leave a comment

OK. This is the saga of the Spaceman and the Jam Factory. Phil Uranus works at the jam factory in Histon, right? Not any more. He’s been there about two years, working mostly nights, and obviously he hates it because it’s smelly, its dull-as-fuck manual labour, and he also has to work side by side with idiots. One particular idiot by the name of Billy was a particular thorn in Phil’s side. He did things like grass on Phil for sneaking off for a cigarette, and that was only on his (Billy’s) first day. Plus he was generally just a socially unskilled moron who everybody in the factory came to dislike pretty soon. Because of the whole Billy thing, and for several other reasons to do with onerous rules and regulations, Phil had had several flashpoint situations with the guys in the blue hats. All other employees had to wear white but the management guys wore blue just so that everybody remembered the difference between each other.
Anyway, at some point the other week Phil, in some kind of subconscious nihilistic gesture that he claims not to fully understand, “dumped” or spoiled or threw away about £1500 worth of fruit that was to be used in the jam making process. The next day he gets into work and he is called into a blue hat’s office, whereupon he is handed a piece of paper that informs him that he is expected to attend some kind of tribunal to do with the fruit nihilism. It even mentions that he is entitled to some kind of legal representation, which is kind of a humiliating offer while you’re being humiliated. Now our Phil is famed for his impetuous nature, but this is like putting a heavy oak chest of drawers on top of an overloaded camel, and the poor spaceman simply breaks. He takes off his white hat and steps out of the office into the factory, and apparently walking through the factory with a bare head is a sackable offence in itself. What’s more it is the time of changing shifts, so the factory is full of workers, who hip to what is going on and are therefore all-agog. At this point you have to start filming the image in your mind in the style of a Western. Now Phil has thought about this moment for quite some time, because he has suspected it might occur, and he wants Billy to get his comeuppance. Funnily enough, Billy is right in the path of the DISGRUNTLED JAM ASTRONAUT, maybe 20 or 30 feet away. He sees Phil coming. Everybody looks. Phil breaks step long enough to unhook (“CLACK!”) one of the high-pressure waterhose gun-things off the wall and continues with grim determination towards the hapless gimp Billy. He raises the hose up to chest height and takes aim, and SPLOOOOOOOSHHHHHHHHsssss! Everybody cheers! Billy does nothing. Phil walks out of the factory for the last time.

Buy the man a fucking drink.

Posted October 11, 2004 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

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