TwistedEdge solves Anglo-American foreign policy.
Forget Iraqistan, forget the War on Terror, we need to kick some ass.
Hello readers of this most green, primitive and inept of websites. Your humble host and site founder Part-time Ninja here, wishing you well. Did you all have a good weekend? Thank God for lube, eh?
I just checked and according to the latest website stats 70.44% of you readers are American – which for an obscure British website as this is quite a feat. Hello to all you Infidelic Yankee Pig Dogs out there. It’s to you that I address this latest slice of textual inadequacy; to all you fine people from the land of Rambo.
I was reading through my usual clusterfuck of random websites when I stumbled upon an old news article. It looked back at the first meeting between our former leader / unelected drooling retard Gordon Brown, and your dynamic commander-in-chief Saint Obama.
As you may have heard, our two countries have what’s referred to as a “special relationship” – you know the kind – we’re not married, but nothing comforts our nation more than your country’s hot breath on the back of our necks as we're slowly spooned back to sleep. However, upon reading about this meeting, I couldn’t help but feel a little concerned that the juicy, zesty relationship between our two nations may be a little strained.
And then they spooned.
Ever eager to impress, our guy Gordon Brown attended the meeting with the hopeful gleam in his eyes you’d normally associate with a faithful Labrador or Spaniel. His lips drooling and his tail wagging, Brown clearly wanted to make a big impression with a President who, according to the American media, had that very week helped the blind to walk and the lame to see.
Much planning and preparation was put into deciding what gift to buy. Many great thinkers were consulted. Many wise sages were brought in. Much tea was drunk.
In the end, I honestly believe we chose well. During the lengthy decision process, someone whispered to ol’ Gordon that your President, Mr Barack Hussain Obama, is part black. I understand this may come as something of a shock to you, and is a closely guarded CIA secret in your own land. (I too was flabbergasted to hear it). With this hammer-blow of a revelation in mind, Mr Brown immediately knew what gift to buy in order to further cement the historical ties that chain our nations together like two gimps in a cage.
Boy was the gift a biggie. Gordon gave Barrack a pen-holder carved from the timbers of an anti-slavery ship. The sister ship, in fact, of the one that was broken up and turned into the desk in the Oval Office. You’ve got to admit, as far as knickknacks go that’s pretty fucking impressive. What epic, groundbreaking gift did Obama give in return? Timbers from the cross on which Christ was nailed, perhaps? Or maybe the original copy of the Bible? Erm... no.
In front of the eyes of the world’s media and the millions watching at home, this shining new saviour of the Free World gave the leader of the planet’s 4th largest economy... a copy of The Graduate on DVD. Seriously. No fooling. The Graduate. That shady Dustin Hoffman flick from the late 60’s. Yes sir. The one which, I just checked, Gordon could have picked up from Amazon for $17.99. Wow.
In terms of international diplomacy, President Obama may as well have skull-fucked the Queen.
Given the bloody history of the rainy little slab of rock we call Britain, I was surprised there wasn’t more of an uproar about this. Hell, given the twitchy state of our nation’s military, I’m surprised we didn’t nuke Hawaii out of spite. But then I thought for a second and realised that yes, such a crappy gift was truthfully quite understandable – and it’s nothing to do with our former Prime Minister being as popular as a Run DMC tribute act at a KKK rally.
You see, also in the news were the endless stream of statistics regarding that little tiff our guys with guns were having in Iraq, Afghanistan and various other dusty shithole countries where people fire machine guns into the air, scream about Allah and burn flags. The Iraq war numbers alone read like a cross between a child’s nightmare and Dante’s Fourth Circle of Hell.
The financial stats alone were enough to make a layman like me shit themselves with pity. In 2008 America was pumping $12,000,000,000 per month into war in Iraq. That’s over $5,000 a second. With data like that, it’s no wonder Obama could only afford to buy a DVD. Hell, I’m amazed he could even afford to buy shoes.
Given the state of both our nation’s economies, however, and the dick-stomping speed at which you guys managed to haemorrhage cash in Iraqistan, I propose that we be more stringent in our next war. Sure, it’s fun to go overseas and kick the living crap out of foreigners in some country nobody’s ever heard of nor can pronounce. After all, we have thousands of cruise missiles, h-bombs and nukes just sitting there on the shelves, begging to be used – it’d be a shame not to, right?
The problem is that in the last decade or so we’ve clearly been punching above our weight. Iraq was a shit-storm since day one – over 5,000 American troops died over there. In Afghanistan the situation wasn’t much better, with soldiers from both our countries getting the bejesus kicked out of them by what basically amounts to a bunch of peasants with sticks. That nasty ol’ Bin Laden was still nowhere to be found at the time either – from what I’ve heard he was sat somewhere in Pakistan, relaxing with his feet up, eating a kebab.
Oh sure, we kicked arse in Kosovo but there’ve been dinner parties that lasted longer than our occupation there, which I hear was the wartime equivalent of kicking a blind old man down some stairs.
Your Hoffman-loving President Obama H. Christ needs to separate himself from the spiralling clusterfuck that was the War on Terror, and reinvigorate the masses with something shocking, rare and epic – a war we can actually win.
There’s nothing that can be done short-term about this recession, and there’s only a finite amount of time before the sun shining out of Barack’s anus reverts to a cloudy thunderstorm.
He needs to act now – and nothing says “progress” quite like the sight of 500 tanks rolling down some foreign tundra, mowing down peasants with flamethrowers. If that patriotic image doesn’t sell you, then just imagine the party we’d have after we won – the booze bill alone would be enough to kick-start the global economy for at least a decade.
However, picking the fight is crucial. As stated earlier, picking a war with a country with weapons capabilities beyond that of your local Toys R’ Us is out, for fear of another Iraq or Vietnam. The last thing we need is another reminder that a bunch of trumped-up illiterate rice farmers with machine guns made of wood can kick our ass. Christ, there’s too many Oliver Stone movies as is.
Iran, for instance, is out of the question. Not only do they have nukes, tanks, guns and various other fun-sounding toys, but they’re also a tad bit genocidal – which, I’ve been told by a semi-reliable source, is bad. Picking a scrap with a nation determined to heat the world’s seas to 10,000 degrees is a bit taboo, in my book at least. Plus, the propaganda would be shit. Sure, it’s easy to get the world rallying against someone like Bin Laden; his name is a piece of piss to say. Iran’s leader? Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. How the fuck are we meant to pronounce that?! Can you imagine how big the newspapers would have to be to fit a name like that on the headlines?!
What we need is a war like The Falklands. Which we Brits won. Don’t worry, this isn’t me showing off or saying we’re better than anyone else – the fact is that war was so easy that all we did was basically show up, and they made us the winners by default. It wasn’t so much of an invasion as a glorified camping holiday with lots of battleships – we just turned up at this obscure speck of land in the middle of nowhere, bombed the living Vishnu out of it until all that was left was hot, poisonous rubble, then fucked off again. Now there’s a war we can get behind!
So my suggestion is simple. We need to find a place where we can drop enough bombs to leave a crater in the Earth the size of Brazil – a place that has an army with all the fighting prowess of a beached whale roasting to death in the hot sun. Canada springs to mind. Or France perhaps. It’s not as if either would even notice they’d been invaded, let alone put up any kind of resistance that a few thousand gallons of randomly scattered napalm couldn’t cure. Sadly though places like that are out, as they are big enough for the world’s vegetarians and the pesky U.N to intervene. The Falklands on the other hand were fine – as nobody had even the slightest clue where the hell they were.
So, having considered every possible variable and surmised every plausible outcome, I hereby recommend that the joint attack forces of the UK and America should invade:
Oh fucking hell yes. You wet yet? I sure as hell am. Here’s the recon:
“Comoros comprises a group of islands between Madagascar and the eastern African mainland that includes Ngazidja” (an unpronounceable speck of rock that nobody’s ever heard of), “Mwali“ (another unpronounceable speck of rock that nobody’s ever heard of), and “Nzwani” (yet another unpronounceable cesspool speck of floating crap that nobody’s ever heard of). “One of the world’s poorest nations, Comoros has an economy based on subsistence agriculture.” So warmongering with these poor bastards would be like ending a bar fight with a wrecking ball. Good.
And as with the very best of shitpile emerging nations, their country’s entire history can be summed up in just one paragraph: “In 1974 majorities on three of the islands voted for independence, which was declared in 1975. The following decade saw several coup attempts, culminating in the assassination of the president in 1989. French intervention permitted multiparty elections in 1990, but the country remained in a state of chronic instability, including secessionist movements on Nzwani and Mwali. In 1999 the army took control of the government and negotiated a constitution in 2001.” So basically they’re fucked then. (Source).
The only weapons of mass destruction this lot have are some angry goats and a dog with rabies. More than Iraq had, but not enough to cause us any real headaches, surely. There'd be no need to televise the execution of their leader once we take power, as I very much doubt anyone in Comoros even has a television.
There'd be no need for winning hearts and minds either - all we'd have to do is have one of the soldiers wave an iPhone around and they'd probably drop to their knees, worshipping us as Gods, swooning under the warm glow of our technological magnificence.
Hell, forget the iPone, you could probably achieve the same effect with a wood-burning stove.
And the best thing of all is, once all the citizenry and their animals are wiped out in the name of the Great Anglo-American Jihad / Democracy, we will finally have a suitable place to plant, isolate and safely store Mel Gibson.
Believe it or not, this is the entire Comoros army.
Granted, apart from the thrill of burning down shanty towns there isn't much real benefit financially to a war with Comoros. But so what? It's not as if Vietnam made it rain gold is it? At the very least we'll have a place to stockpile all those goons who failed the America's Got Talent auditions, until such a time arrives when science has devised a safe method for their disposal.
So there you go. Anglo-American foreign policy for the next ten years is solved with one shitty little article. Say thank you...
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