“So, he accepted?” asked Tsarpresidentovich Vladimir Pudding. “And what type of combat did he choose – eating cream cakes to the death? Glugging wine to see who passes out first?”
Sergei Lapdog, Foreign Minister and Head of the Joseph Goebbels Institute for the Truth, smiled wryly and replied: “If only. No, the ex, or soon to be ex-Prime Minister of the UK has followed a more traditional route and has chosen duelling pistols.”
“What?!” Vlad Pudding whirled round to gawp, open-mouthed, at Lapdog. “Pistols? Are you serious?” Vlad looked anxious; he had been expecting boxing or a bicycle race or some bizarre, upper-class, English game involving silly hats or smelly underpants. Pistols? He could be killed!
Lapdog couldn’t help but smile inwardly; he may ‘only’ be the Foreign Minister, but what seemed like centuries of diplomatic dealings with the West had left an ambitious taste for power in his ample, wobbly jowls.
“He chose pistols…fuuuu…he could be bluffing, couldn’t he?”
“He a big fibber, but I don’t think he’s a bluffer.” Lapdog looked at his leader; his head seemed to be swelling before his eyes.
“What can we do? asked Swellhead. “Can we poison him before the duel? Get some Novichok into his system maybe?”
Lapdog shook his jowls and protested: “A duel is a matter of honour. If we poison Johnson and then we get found out, it would have serious consequences.”
Vlad the Poisoner blew out his cheeks and said: “We’re fighting a country supported by the West; could that be any more serious?”
“Your personal honour is at stake, and the honour of Mother Russia,” said Lapdog, wanting to make some chicken noises.
Vladimir Pudding blew out his ruddy cheeks and said: “What are the rules of duelling with pistols…hold up, what type of bloody pistols are we talking about, anyway?”
Minority News Report 