Dead Men Tell No Jokes
And no, I don't want to talk about that guns-for-jokes deal the team here at Alias Poor Yorick tried to set up with the Taliban. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Lateral thinking, comedy-cash-and-peace-in-our-time, all that stuff. What can I say. Hearts in the right place, brains somewhere in the Cayman Islands getting a tan. Anyway.
Still in the spirit of international peace and friendship, I'd been hoping to work up a joke or two especially for our Slovenian readers. Hello Slovenia. How are ? Where are you ?
Details a little hazy but I remember the joke was going something like
Q: How many Slovenians does it take to change a light bulb ?
A: Never mind about that, this is the Russian Mafia here. We want to know where you got the light bulbs, 'cos not from us for sure. Russian Mafia not happy about this ...
(Well look it was a work in progress, gimme a break) Anyway.
No sooner had I keyed in "Russian Mafia" for the second time when I got an urgent fax from the Russian Socio-Political Attache Vladimir "Vlad the Inhaler" Medicare. A FAX . How cool. I loved the eighties. Bring me my Dunhill lighter and my luxury-length Peter Stuyvesant. And how crucial were we? I mean a different coloured narrow leather tie for every day of the week ..... what ? That was just me ? Bummer. Oh well, as they say, tragedy plus time = comedy. Anyway. Where was I ?
Ah yes. Urgent communique from my old mate Vlad the Inhaler. Don't mention the Mafia. There is no Russian Mafia. There are several substantial NGO's which facilitate the movement and trade of 'difficult' materials and services. But no Mafia. Not now. Not ever. And I'm good with that. A mate of mine fell foul of the .. a large Russian NGO a couple of years back, and it was nasty stuff: they took him to this warehouse outside of Minsk, tied him up and made him watch "Battleship Potemkin". Twice. With a commentary by Margaret Pomeranz. Then this huge ex-KGB thug comes out and reads Pushkin in a halting Ukrainian accent. For fourteen hours. No-one should have to go through that sort of hell. Not even for a light bulb joke.
Still in the spirit of international peace and friendship, I'd been hoping to work up a joke or two especially for our Slovenian readers. Hello Slovenia. How are ? Where are you ?
Details a little hazy but I remember the joke was going something like
Q: How many Slovenians does it take to change a light bulb ?
A: Never mind about that, this is the Russian Mafia here. We want to know where you got the light bulbs, 'cos not from us for sure. Russian Mafia not happy about this ...
(Well look it was a work in progress, gimme a break) Anyway.
No sooner had I keyed in "Russian Mafia" for the second time when I got an urgent fax from the Russian Socio-Political Attache Vladimir "Vlad the Inhaler" Medicare. A FAX . How cool. I loved the eighties. Bring me my Dunhill lighter and my luxury-length Peter Stuyvesant. And how crucial were we? I mean a different coloured narrow leather tie for every day of the week ..... what ? That was just me ? Bummer. Oh well, as they say, tragedy plus time = comedy. Anyway. Where was I ?
Ah yes. Urgent communique from my old mate Vlad the Inhaler. Don't mention the Mafia. There is no Russian Mafia. There are several substantial NGO's which facilitate the movement and trade of 'difficult' materials and services. But no Mafia. Not now. Not ever. And I'm good with that. A mate of mine fell foul of the .. a large Russian NGO a couple of years back, and it was nasty stuff: they took him to this warehouse outside of Minsk, tied him up and made him watch "Battleship Potemkin". Twice. With a commentary by Margaret Pomeranz. Then this huge ex-KGB thug comes out and reads Pushkin in a halting Ukrainian accent. For fourteen hours. No-one should have to go through that sort of hell. Not even for a light bulb joke.
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