6:00 a.m. Greenwich Main Time
City: London

Brrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggg!!!!!!!!!!! Brrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnggggggggg!!!!!!!!!

Roy: Hullo, mate.

William: Goddamn it, don’t you hello mate me, you oleaginous punk. This is Caracas calling.

Roy: Wot’s up?

William: You know what’s up, Swedish Wonder Kid. And boy you better have an explanation.

R: Hunh?

W: Haven’t you seen the London Times? We have a crisis. One week before Our Fearless Leader makes his grand debut in London? Do you see what’s in it?

R: No, I only read my own Web site, the font of all truth.

W: Cut the clowning, blobbo. You know very well what you read in the London Times. It’s Boyd, Alek Boyd, Agent Of The Empire, and he’s just scored the coup you were charged with scoring. He’s done it right under your nose in your home territory, bucko. He’s writing commentary for The Times of London, debunking our Fearless Leader, casting aspersions on our line that Our Feared Leader is not actually a … democrat. We can’t have that going on, if he’s not a democrat, he’s a pariah like General Manuel Noriega and will only get dinner invitations to see the freaks out there who don’t care, like Red Ken. Listen, speaking of Noriega and his more stylish autocratic predecessor, Omar Torrijos, done in by the yanqui assassins in that plane crash, Boyd’s done this right in the newspaper of Torrijos’ pal, Graham Greene. It’s a shoe-in for anti-American diatribes in that tradition. And now Boyd’s writing for it, turning the world upside down.

R: And Kim Philby’s paper, too, I reckon.

W: That’s where you’ve really soiled yourself, failing to live up to the Philby tradition, gordote! YOU were supposed to be writing the commentary for this Philby newspaper and now you have let our WORST ENEMY write it instead! You let him! You were charged with silencing him and instead, you sat on your copious ass and let him get away with it all. And on a few days before El Supremo is scheduled to darken the gates of London! You have allowed Boyd to take the lead. …. And for that, you must pay.

R: Owww, mate, you don’t want to do that. I promise I’ll take care of it. I promise I’ll take care of it. I’ll get Buxom Julia after them at the Times, she’ll take care of it.

W: That’s what you always say, you worthless, moneysucking loser. No more Citgo chicks decorating your site for you! And no more checks from the slush fund!

R: Don’t do that. I have a masterplan for success against counterrevolutionaries. Julia will write a long, long, long, long letter to the Times editors. She’ll repeat all the canards we know and make up some brand new ones. She’ll sound harrumphing and snide. She’ll not bother with addressing Boyd’s, you know, facts. Instead, we’ll have the old slapper make up as much personal smear as she can. You know, the tabloid mentality, since this is London and they all read tabloids. That way, it’s sure to get published.

Then we will put it on my Web site, so that those interested in the font of truth can read it. And I’ll have a series of shills to follow up, all saying the same thing. What’s not to like, mate? How can we not win? Tell me it’s not a plan.

W: Roy, you’re making me nauseous. And I’ve got no one but you on this. El Supremo is already breaking furniture at Miraflores Palace based on rumors of this! God knows how he will writhe when someone puts it in front of him over his breakfast frijoles. He’s got to impress Red Ken and everyone around him, and here Boyd is, pissing in his Cheerios.

We have a crisis. And it’s a lot more than our slush fund that is in danger. Do you know where Bad Chavistas get sent to, Roy? Do you know about those Havana dungeons they are preparing for us if El Supremo isn’t satisfied? Roy, we need to produce results, results! This is the mainstream media you are dealing with, this ought to be easy. And here you are, a miserable failure, failing to keep Boyd out of the press. We will need to get you in reeducation camp on the double for this. Because you’re no match for Boyd. On the double! And to heck with your masterplan, you ridiculous counterrevolutionary. You’ll pay for this, Roy. El Supremo is not going to like this. He’ll bounce your check and take your chick. Be warned, Roy. You’ll pay!

(Click.)