“He was surrounded by a group of his senior officers, who were careful not to get in his way. This was the part of the job Thlugg enjoyed the most. Except, of course, for eating the defeated foes of the Borgia Empire. He pointed at a map, using what was left of the cosmonaut’s fingers, and vented: Blue cheese, public lavatory, goat spit, angel cake, fish slime, smoky bacon flavour crisps, aubergine purée, Earl Grey tea. Or: ‘This insignificant offshore land mass here – known, I believe, as Big B...ritain. That shall be designated a barbecue area.’ He was interrupted by Lieutenant Unguent, a small, nervous officer from the Intelligence Division. ‘As you know, O G-G-Great Leader with the aroma of r-r-rotting Quagg c-c-carcasses—’ Thlugg gave an exasperated burp. ‘Enough of your flattery. What is it you want?’ ‘Yes, O f-f—’ ‘Spit it out, man!’ ‘F-f-flatulent one. We have been uploading data from our spysats in orbit around Earth. Following our analysis of the preliminary data, we also sent down a reconnaissance operative to make direct observations.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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