And so the week passes

Cornet Wales in Iraq.

At the moment, there’s so little real news that Prince Harry (aka Cornet Wales) is headlining on The Guardian because of his imminent dispatch to Iraq and threats from the insurgents to kidnap him.

“Mullah Omar! Mullah Omar!”
“What is it, Abdul? Can’t you see I’m trying to violate these farm animals.”
“We’ve just captured the entire British army stationed in southern Iraq.”
“What?! All of them?”
“Mid order collapse. Usual story.”
“Not again. And what of Cornet Wales?”
“That’s the thing. All these foreigners look the same, and so far no one will identify the prince. Perhaps we should torture some of them.”
“Dude, what is it with you and torture? I have an idea.”

[Mullah Omar and Abdul exit to the compound where the British soldiers are sitting around the pool on deck chairs and being served drinks by bikini-clad cuties.]

“Damn it, Carruthers, captivity is hell. I want to be out there on the streets getting shot at or knowing that at any time I might have all regions north and south blown halfway across Iraq. But what’s happened instead? We’re in this five star luxury hotel. I’m a fighting man and… Ooh! Is that a pina colada?”
“Quite right, your Majesty… Look out! Here comes that Mullah Omar.”
“Listen up, heretical violators of Iraqi sovereignty, we know that Prince Harry is among you. If he will identify himself, the rest of you are free to go. I don’t think I need to remind you what will happen if he doesn’t reveal himself.”
“Dear God!” Carruthers whispered. “He means Carla Gugino doing the barbecuing topless. Will these fiends stop at nothing?”

[The British soldiers sit silently sipping their drinks. Harry stands up.]

“I’m Cornet Wales.”

[Carruthers stands up.]

“No! I’m Cornet Wales!”

[Another squaddie stands up.]

“I’m Spartacus!”

[Everyone starts standing up claiming to be Prince Harry or Spartacus. Mullah Omar raises his hands for silence.]

“Now can we torture them?” asked Abdul hopefully.

[Omar looks contemptuously at Abdul and pulls a large reefer out of his jacket. Harry hesitates for a moment before leaping forward and grab­bing it.]

“See, Abdul; we have our man, and no one even got tortured.”


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