fuckitybye | 021 - malcolm is a maudlin drunk.

Current Mood: drunk + I WAS THE FUCKIN' PHAROAH

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021 - malcolm is a maudlin drunk.

[Audio. Malcolm's Glaswegian accent has thickened considerably.]

What's the fucking point, yeah? Bein' a useless cunt out here in the fucking ... arse-end of the fucking universe, not a fucking friend in sight and your family gone and fucking ... superheroes and things'll rip your fucking throat out and ... this is supposed to help?

Fuck this cack-brained shit in the ear with a fucking screwdriver.

[Click. Audio off. He'll respond to anyone who feels like hassling him via journal, but some time later, anyone wandering up on deck will find Malcolm standing at the railing staring morosely off into the distance. In his left hand he clutches his useless Blackberry and this photograph. Feel free to come spam Malcolm and, if you dare, ask him about the photograph. Also, sorry for spamming with Malc posts this morning. Done now.]

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No. It doesn't help. No point in trying.

Nothing helps.

[IN AN INCREDIBLY THICK FAKE SCOTTISH ACCENT:]

Why is the barge so fuck fuck shit? All the walls-- the walls are made of cunt!

[Brief descent into giggling, then he recovers to LOUDLY DECLARE:]

AHHHM MALCOLM!

[AND THEN THE COMEDY OF HIS WORDS BECOMES TOO MUCH FOR HIM AND COMPLETELY UNCONTROLLABLE LAUGHTER SETS IN.]

Oh aye, a regular fucking Billy Connolly you are, you little fucking twatsponge.

It's like a fucking ... river of shit, yeah? No, no, not a river, like a fucking Lake District flood.

And we're all drowning in it.

[Twatsponge? Oh my god, that is the best word Billy has ever heard ever! He is literally gasping for air it is so funny. When he starts to come down, he adds to his tapestry of humor:]

Ahhhm no' Billay Connoley, AHHM FUCKING MALCOLM, Stop being a nonbelieving fucking atheist cockarm!

[Totally not really listening to Iago.]

There was a fucking time ... I could've built a fucking life raft of shit. I could ride that fucking shit-river all the way to the fucking OCEAN and brandish my SHIT-PADDLE in the faces of those CUNTS AND TOSSERS who pushed me in ...

Fuck.

[Being drunk means talking at, not talking with.]

And that's not going to get anyone anywhere. It's only going to make the world worse. Only going to make your life worse.

Just fucking shut it, Doogie Howser. Hitting the fucking nitrous, are we? Sucking on a big ol' nitrous COCK?

[Yeah, being drunk just makes Iroh MORE aggressively nice. Who could've guessed. And there's someone on the deck who looks unhappy - let's go and be friends with him! He waves.]

Hello there!

[Exactly.]

Can't get any fucking worse. I was the KING. I had ALL OF WHITEHALL BY THE FUCKING BALLS and now I'm fucking ROTTING HERE.

I WILL NOT FUCKING STAND FOR THIS.

[Oh great.]

Sod off.

Fuck your royalty.

You're shit now.

Yeah, well, so are you, cocknozzle. We're all fucking shit together.

[You don't get away that easily, Malcolm! Iroh sets his arms on the railing, leaning comfortably.]

In a while, perhaps. What's wrong?

Who's Doogie Ho-- I mean Shut up your fucking mad name calling, fuckface! AHHM MALCOLM! Not any old nahme you choose! And, and! If AHH suck on a-- um, I mean Anything I suck on? MALCOLM sucks on!

Because AHHHHHHM MALCOLM!

Oh yeah? Then I'm sucking on your mummy's TIT, Simon In the Land of Chalk Drawings. Since I reckon you never fucking STOPPED.

Christ almighty, you are a fucking AMATEUR.

Everything's fucking wrong, and if you can't see that, you're stupider than you fucking look.

Dude, way too much information about your private life right there. Oedipal Complex much?

[Iroh chuckles. The wall of zen is unbreakable.]

'Wrong' is fleeting. Most things can be made right again, with time. You do better than many, even to notice that something is amiss. [He nods towards the picture.] Who is the young lady?

[Triumphant cackle of short-lived glee.]

And that's why you're a fucking AMATEUR, Bod. You got to be willing to GO THERE. It's the only way to shut the other cunt up.

[He shuffles the photo behind the Blackberry. Too late, of course. Then, mumbled:]

I didn't go home for my fucking birthday.

Edited 2010-06-11 15:42 (UTC)

My Dearest Majesty,

I do have a most sincere message for you. Once. Once, sir, I did arrest thee. You were playing golf and did not see us coming for you.

You should have seen it, your Highness, you should have seen it coming.

For what tyrant is not held to his people's account? Even by the authority of a sword.

'Twas, indeed, a wonderful day, when I arrested you in Oxford. I shall laugh and laugh and laugh and oh, was that your head falling from the scaffold?

Poor, tragic tyrant. Such a tale of woe.

Yours,
Colonel Edward Sexby,
Parliamentary Army,
Year of Our Lord 1658 (not 1665. Never 1665)

[He frowns a bit. Serious business, this.]

I am sorry, my friend. But the Admiral can be quite malleable with these things. You might be able to return in good time, when you leave. [He pats Malcolm's shoulder.]

...That was creative.

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