fuckitybye

[This video transmission goes out to everyone in Malcolm's propaganda organisation, and is available to the Master and any ministers and officials within the government. Malcolm in this world? Still sweary, still Glaswegian-sounding, but he wears glasses and also somehow looks about ten years younger than usual. Maybe he's just less stressed here or something.]

[He folds his hands and smiles not-quite-benevolently into the camera.]

Good afternoon, my little chicks and cocks. Yes, I know, two fucking briefings in one day; isn't that splendid? No doubt you've heard our lord and Master's broadcast with regard to the giant spacefaring shitewad that dropped down on the outskirts and the arseholes and twats and miscellaneous cunts within that we can look forward to dealing with.

This is just a reminder to everyone: stay the fuck on message here. Which message is: we are gonna get this toxic shitdump cleaned up A-fucking-SAP, the citizenry has nothing to worry about, and anyone giving aid and comfort to the fucking enemy is going to find out all about new and interesting ways his bollocks can be worked over, yeah?

Now then: Printing and networked media, get those fucking Wanted posters and social networking bulletins completed fucking yesterday. Radio, television—ensure that news and chatshows include heightened messaging regarding security, the Master's authority, et fucking cetera. Also, anyone interested in developing propaganda specifically directed at the crew of the Good Ship Lollipop out there? A special unit is being formed just for that fucking purpose. See my assistant if you're interested. Some of you have already seen her.

Right, I think I've taken enough of your precious time; god knows I've fucked over enough of my own. Stay on message, and have a good evening. Tucker out.

[Transmission ends, with the MASTERWORLD CHANNEL test card filling the screen before it cuts out.]