Sergei Lapdog and Valeri Getyouroksov composed themselves and stared, bashfully, at the floor like naughty schoolboys. Vladimir Pudding gestured with his XXL head at the UBER Table.
“It looks even longer,” thought Lapdog. “Has he had it extended?”
President Pudding was bare-torsoed and he wheezed slightly as he said: “Sit down and wait until I’ve finished my push-ups. He did two and announced triumphantly: “One hundred!”
“One hundred, my spotty, Soviet arse,” thought Getyouroksov, Chief of Staff of the Russian War Machine.
“Take a seat,” said Pudding, pointing at two chairs that were about halfway along the absurdly long, ornate table.
“Ok, thought Lapdog, “he’s not pleased with us but we’re not being sent off to a gulag.”
Pudding continued: “As you can see, I’m in fine physical shape. In fact, I have the body of a 40-year old gymnast, wouldn’t you say?”
Both men nodded so vigorously that Lapdog’s glasses fell off his nose and Getyouroksov’s wig shifted a little on his balding pate.
“I want to challenge Boris Johnson to a duel.”
The two men stopped nodding and gawped at their leader, waiting for him to laugh and say “Nah, not really.” No such comment was forthcoming.
Lapdog, the Foreign Minister, groaned inside: “Sweet Saint Veronica, he’s serious. And you know who’ll have to arrange it.”
“And,” continued the Tsar, “I want you to arrange it.”
“Umm, yes that’s a great idea…but a duel? Like, with pistols?”
“No, no Lapdog, I mean fighting…wrestling or boxing.”
Getyouroksov chimed in (and instantly regretted it): “How about Biden? He’s…”
“…a doddery, old git. He needs a rest after waking up in the morning.”
“Or Macron?” offered Lapdog.
“Macron?” questioned Pudding. “He’s a puffy meringue. I reckon his wife would be harder to beat than him. She looks a tough cookie. Why not Boris? He’s even got a Russian name; he’s perfect.”
“But he’s quite fit, I think,” said Lapdog.
“Ah come on. He’s like a big, chubby, blubbery baby,” scoffed the ex-KGB man.
“He cycles,” said Lapdog. “And he played rugby; that’s a tough sport.”
“Oh yeah, against little kids. I ride wild stallions and wrestle bears,” growled Pudding.
“Sure you do,” thought Getyouroksov, wondering why he was being involved in all this.
Pudding pointed at him: “And you, Valeri, are going to challenge the head of NATO to a duel.”
Getyourosksov felt his stomach slide down to his socks. “Oh come on,” he mumbled.
Lapdog thought: “Please, please, please don’t tell me to challenge Ursula von der Leyen to a duel.”
Minority News Report 