For Daniel, for all the love, and support. And crack.
Ed Balls & The Picnic in the Woods: Part IV
By Ted Johnston
Chapter One
Harriet Harman knelt down and sniffed the blood.
"Strawberry lace", she said, licking her fingers clean, "come on, he can't be far off". She turned to Ed Balls, who was sulking by a tree, gorging his red, bloody lips on an ice-cream he'd stolen from an incapacitated child, about 5 miles back.
"What?" he said, because he hadn't been listening. Harriet Harman rose to her full height of about 5"6 and stared into the unwavering cancerous holes of Ed Balls' pupils. She thought of a joke she could make, about pupils and how he had once been Shadow Secretary of State for Education, but she couldn't quite get it to work and it probably wasn't the appropriate time. Besides, Ed would probably kick off, and she couldn't afford another mistake.
"Come on", she gargled, like a wart-infested witch, or a woman gargling with mouth-wash saying "come on" at the same time, which is what she was doing.
They all climbed back into the van. Her, Ed Balls, Theresa May, David Cameron, Nick Clegg was there, Jack Straw had bought a bat and had stuck some nails in it, only he'd put them in the right way so it wasn't any more dangerous, but no one felt like pointing it out, as he'd been drinking meths again. Noel Edmonds was driving.
"Shut up and get in the van, I'm driving", Noel Edmonds said, factually.
"Alright Edmonds", David Cameron vomited, "but just remember whose fault this is".
"Alright, alright, let's just go, I saw him disappearing through those trees about 2 minutes ago. He's wounded".
"You've got me to thank for that, I hit him with my arrow when he came at me from out of those bushes. He won't be going far. We'll catch up with him soon enough", Nick Clegg screamed incomprehensibly.
"What?" David Cameron vomited, again.
"Never you mind" Theresa May said, " just drive, Edmonds, or I'm going to ram this pike up your arse then make you bounce on it like your Tigger and that's your tail and you're excited. Capiche?". He capiched all right, he'd seen what she'd done to that family of squirrels back in Dorset. He stepped on the gas.
So off they went, members of the ousted Labour party and the coalition, all sat drunkenly in the back of a van, wielding ancient weaponry that they'd grabbed cack-handedly from the display cabinets at the Houses of Parliament as they'd all bowled out; and Noel Edmonds was driving.
They came across him in a little dell, lying face down. A trail of blood led to him, Nick Clegg had been telling the truth, he had shot him with an arrow. Jack Straw was the first out, he jumped lightly down onto the mossy undergrowth hardly making a sound, blood pumping in his ears, and marker pen scrawled across his face, spelling out the words, "Jack Straw". No one knew why.
Mr. Blobby whimpered. he was done for and he knew it. He tried to crawl away, but Straw sat down on his legs, pinning him into the mud where he lay. By this time everyone else had got out the van and gathered round in a tight circle. Harriet Harman was the first to strike. She lashed out with her iron mace, striking Blobby across the jaw. Blood splattered everywhere, all the colours of the rainbow. Some of it got on David Cameron's dinner jacket.
"Come here and lick it off", he vomited. Mr. Blobby screamed, it came out like a strange warble. Everyone laughed. They couldn't help it. Even after all these years, they had to admit, Blobby still had some of the old magic left. Then Noel Edmonds put his cock in his ass. Blobby screamed. Again, everyone laughed, but not as hard this time. Everyone stood and watched in silence as Edmonds pounded a crying Mr. Blobby. Then they all set about him as one.
After about an hour the racket died down. Blobby was nearly dead, his head had been caved in by Theresa May's hob nailed boots. But Mr. Blobby was magic, it'd take more than that. Edmonds was still going, it made everyone feel faintly sick, but Edmonds always had been the wildest of the lot.
David Cameron offered Nick Clegg the pistol.
"Finish him", he vomited. Clegg looked unsure. He stared down at Mr. Blobby, and pity filled his heart. Blobby stared almost blankly up into Clegg's eyes.
"Please", he managed, barely managing to form sentences.
"Please".
Clegg closed his eyes, and fired blindly. Blobby's incessant whimpering stopped.
"Well done". Harriet Harman slapped Clegg on the back, nearly causing him to throw up,
"You did well".
"You did well".
David Cameron put his arm round Clegg's shoulder and led him back to the van.
"Well done, Clegg. I think you've shown everyone that you're eligible to be part of our little club. Now let's get back to dinner and quaff some more duck's eggs before Boris Johnson turns up and snorts the lot", he vomited. It went everywhere. It was disgusting.
As they all drove home some of them wondered if it actually had been as funny an idea as it had sounded round the dinner table at number 10. No one said anything though, they knew it would be fatal to show weakness in front of Edmonds. Clegg sat staring blankly off into space, Blobby's marshmallowy carcass seared into his memory. He felt sick, but that was probably just the champagne. No one spoke. Nobody looked at each other. They all felt a bit ashamed. When they got back they all made their excuses and left. Then they all went home and went straight to bed. Typical politicians. And Noel Edmonds.
The End.
