Herr Klouse (the K is silent) Swab, the Führer of the WEF (Wicked Eugenicist Fascists), as was his custom, sat in his office chair enjoying the watery afternoon winter sun which filtered through his office window. On his lap was a large, white, rather evil-looking cat, which he stroked as it lay quiescent in his bony lap.
He sang rather tunelessly as he sat, but the tune was vaguely recognisable as “Das Deutschlandlied”, the German National Anthem, to Haydn’s tune known as “Austria”.
Mayhem, havoc, chaos, violence,
How I love to hear these words,
Trouble, pandemonium also,
Slice the peasants into thirds,
From the North Pole to th’equator,
From the top to ends of the globe,
Let those nasty useless eaters,
Cease their annoying of us xenophobes.
Having finished his rather croaky rendition, he paused to suck one of his fingers, where the cat had taken exception to his over-vigorous stroking and hooked him rather nicely on his skeletal index finger.
“It is a bit temperamentvoll [feisty/spirited] we are being today, is it Attila?” growled Klouse when the blood flow had abated. “Be careful, we don’t want your spotless white fur tainted with blue blood, do we! It would be to the cleaners off again for you if that were to happen.”
At this threat, Attila’s ears went back and the beginnings of a hiss manifested. Fortunately, further carnage was forestalled by the arrival of Klouse’s private secretary, Fritz.
He clicked his heels together and gave the rather well-known salute that was expected of him. “Mein Führer,” he said, a note of suppressed excitement in his voice. “I have good news for you.”
“What is being the good news, Fritz?” demanded Klouse. “More erdbeben [earthquakes]? More uberschwemmungen [floods]? Hungersnöte [famines]? Pandemien [pandemics]? These are the good things that my heart is craving. Tell me more.”
“This concerns one of your leaders,” said Fritz. “It’s the Justinda Ardeau woman. She’s resigned. Gone. No longer to bother you with her ‘Merry Baldmasses’, and ‘Be Kinds’ and ‘Yip yips’.”
“This is indeed the good news being,” responded Klouse, “but surprising it is not, as it was I who ordered her removal. I also the Scottish told to get rid of that fishy woman. What is her name again? Minnow if I am not mistaken.”
“Sturgeon, I believe,” courageously corrected Fritz.
“Ah yes, I knew it was some kind of fish. So it is the large long-snouted, spiny-backed common Northern hemisphere sturgeon,” recalled Klouse. “ I was confusing her with Micron who is a veritable minnow among leaders. Did they my instructions follow as to the replacement leader for the Ardeau creature?”
“I remember that you expressed a desire for that airline fellow to be elected as Prime Minister,” said Fritz, “but I don’t recall who you named as Ardeau’s successor.”
“Doubts about that airline fellow I am having,” said Klouse, thoughtfully resuming a more subdued stroking of Attila. “I thought he might to the voters who swing appeal, but he has not surged in support as any trottel [idiot] would have, and I am thinking that he should have into the Labour Party been inserted. He seems unable to even pretend to oppose any government policy. Perhaps he has not the character to be one of my leaders. But of course, if he lacks the ability to deceive, the Labour Party would not want him. It is a dilemma huge, Fritz.”
He sighed loudly, causing a warning hiss like a punctured Chinese spy balloon to escape from Attila. “Ah yes, I recall. I wanted that McAnutty fellow as the new leader. He has the personality of a wounded Honey Badger, the appearance of our master Satan and is a bully of impeccable credentials and experience. I hope he is doing well as leader, Fritz.”
“But they did not appoint him as leader,” Fritz stated tentatively. “They appointed that fellow Chopkins, and he now is the Prime Minister.”
“Donner und Blitzen [thunder and lightning],” shouted Klouse angrily, leaping to his feet and spilling an enraged Attila onto the carpet. “Why would they defy my orders and put that
Hasenfüßig [lily-livered] Kichernkopf [dumb-bell] in the position? It is being like having a ten-year-old leader. Premierminister he is not. Premiertrottel [Prime Idiot] he is.”
Fritz consulted a document he held in his hand. “Ah yes, Hellish Quark anticipated you might ask this. Xhe says here that Herr Chopkins shares Ardeau’s, and therefore WEF’s, aims, and has a voting record near enough to identical to Ardeau’s in their Parliament. Xhe feels that Herr McAnutty is unelectable, as the people of Our-Tear-Roar want someone with the appearance of a normal person as their leader.”
“Eine normale Person,” spluttered Klouse. “How dare they want a non-WEF approved leader. Hellish should know our criteria: narcissistic, cruel, psychopathic. These are what we are requiring, Fritz. Chopkins is not what we want…”
“If I might fractionally disagree with enormous respect,” gently interrupted Fritz, “but Herr Chopkins is exactly what you require. Yes, he looks like a ten-year-old, but this is his strength. Inside he is a boiling cauldron of evil. A river of filth if you prefer.”
He paused, and an enlightened expression formed on Klouse’s camel-like face. “Ah, but of course, perhaps Chopkins is the consummate actor being. As was Ardeau for a time also. The evil is well-hidden, like Ardeau at the beginning. Very well, let him remain as leader. Perhaps Hellish does know what she is doing. But she should have me consulted first. Send her a reprimand for that, Fritz.”
He glanced down at his ankle and noticed that Attila’s fangs and claws were embedded in his ankle protector.
“Two last things before you go, Fritz,” snapped Klouse. “From my ankle please remove Attila. He tries my patience. Execute him Fritz, and then bring me schnapps and a replacement cat. That will be all.”
Fritz hastened to obey his führer’s will.
