Dear Noddy

Posted on by Opher

The letter arrived through my letter box. I picked it up and could immediately see that it was addressed to someone else but I opened it anyway.

Dear Noddy,

Please warn Big Ears that I’m going to nuke London.

That’ll teach you limey’s not to help me bomb the hell out of Iran in my big beautiful war. (which we’ve won by the way! We didn’t need you!)

Donald J Trump

‘Bloody Hell!’ I thought. ‘Why’s that come to me?’

Then I noticed that Hegseth had been charged with sending it to Noddy.

‘Phew,’ I thought, ‘nuking the whole of London just cos we didn’t join n with his ill-thought-through mess. That didn’t seem fair. Maybe if he’d told us first and involved us instead of simply going gung-ho.’

What to do now? I went on the internet to see if I could find Big Ear’s address so I could redirect it and send it on to him.

The Cleansing – 29 – Chapter 14

Posted on by Opher

Attempting to delve into the psyche of a population faced with the reality of an alien invasion was an interesting task:

Chapter 14 – Seeds of Resistance

All over the planet people were emerging from their stupor and finding their voice. The Federation had come from nowhere. They’d taken over without a single shot being fired. People were left stunned. There was disbelief at how quickly and efficiently the Federation had assumed control. The military had let them down. They had simply capitulated. But that wasn’t the end of it. The people weren’t about to allow a bunch of alien lizards to waltz in and take over without so much as a ‘how’s your father?’ Something had to be done. Surely someone could do something?

These lizards were all over the place, rounding up people, manhandling children, and the rumour was of concentration camps, torture and mass graves.

Nobody could simply stand by and allow that to go on, could they? There was a feeling that we were at war, under occupation. The resistance began to coalesce.

The reaction to Ron’s address was mixed. There were many who saw resistance as futile, who felt that they had no option but to place their faith in the vision being sold to them. They had to believe the lizards. They had no choice. It all sounded great but they were reluctant to believe it but they felt they had little choice other to wait and see and hope for the best. Maybe they would be as good as their word? On the other side there were those who saw Ron as a traitor and thought the lizards were taking them all for a ride. We were being occupied by hostile forces that needed opposing at all costs. Principles were at stake.

The underlying groundswell was that nobody, whatever their views on the likely outcome, liked the idea of these alien lizards running the show. That caused universal disquiet. Could they be trusted? Nobody knew for certain. Everything was open to speculation.

The greatest focus of unrest was over the loss of sovereignty. Patriotic sentiments ran high. How could these aliens swarm in and do away with their country? They’d taken on Billy’s mantra – thousands of years of culture gone just at the stroke of a pen. It wasn’t right. This was soil that had been fought over, earth that was rich with the blood of generations. There were highly valued cultural identities that were deeply engrained in peoples’ psyche. You didn’t give up your whole way of life without a struggle. No amount of benefits could compensate for that. Their blood was up.

Besides, wasn’t it obvious, global governments meant absolute power and absolute power meant corruption and nepotism on a grand scale – assuming that the aliens weren’t controlling everything from behind the scenes, which was even worse.

The dice had been rolled. Now it felt as if the whole world was holding its breath. There was no telling where those numbers would fall. All over the planet there were bitter disputes between friends and in families. It split the people into two camps: the believers and the non-believers.

The believers, while not being happy with an alien take-over, were sold on the massive benefits that could ensue. On balance they thought it was worthwhile to be rid of war and put resources into other things. They liked the idea of good, cheap energy and non-polluting industry, of restoring the natural world. There were many who saw the removal of the greed merchants, corrupt and crooked politicians and the violent as being a good thing though there was general consternation at the brutal way these people were being treated as well as concern that the correct people were being identified. Many quite liked the idea of a global government, unity and inequality, even though there were an equal number who were horrified by the idea. It all came down to trust. They did not like the idea that they were being fooled. The insecurity levels were firing through the roof. Were they being led down the garden path? Nobody was sure.

The non-believers did not even believe a word they were told. They saw the aliens as invaders who were working some elaborate deception and did not believe they ever intended to deliver. They saw it as a ploy and the world government as a sham. As for the removal of the elites, they viewed the removal of capitalists as communism and believed that it would remove incentive and demotivate everyone, although they were quite happy for the crooked politicians to be rounded up even if they could not agree on who the crooked ones were. That seemed to split along partisan lines. As for the idea of a global government; for many that was a complete non-starter. Nothing could compensate for the loss of their country. They argued that the aliens could not simply impose unity and equality. It went against human nature. People were different. Some were better than others. That was the law of nature. To many these aliens sounded like a bunch of insane communists.

The battle lines were being drawn. Violent arguments were breaking out all over the world as people became more entrenched and conspiracies rampaged through the internet.

Grrndakegra was watching closely, selecting targets. This was fertile ground. The rising swell of dissent was throwing up a string of new leaders. She watched to see how this might be exploited.

Her conversation with Beheggakegri had been unsettling. She had watched the slimy ball of blubber writhe around in pathetic weak fear. She’d seen it – even if he’d come through with a half-decent plan, the fear had been there. Beheggakegri was the head of a big organisation, a person of enormous power, but she’d seen the weakness. When threatened by the whippet of a Giforian Chameakegra he’d folded like a deflated balloon. The threat of that Judge had terrified him. The Dref had no spine. She felt repulsed. Grrndakegra knew that Beheggakegri possessed not a shred of morality. His whole life had been a litany of schemes and deals. How this sagging, overblown apology for a Dref had gained the position he was in was beyond her. He wasn’t even the most focussed laser in the beam. She knew she could not trust him a centimetre. If it came to it he’d throw his granny under the shuttle. He’d certainly throw her in the propulsion unit to save his own scutes. She knew she had to double down on covering her own thoracic scutes.

Yet Beheggakegri still called the shots. She’d go along with him for now until it was expedient not to. He was right about Chameakegra. She was a detached laser. These Hydrans were hopeless, violent and irredeemable. This was all a waste of time. Follow the written procedure, assess them for what they are and pull the plug. All this silliness was ridiculous. The sooner Chameakegra woke up to it the better. That was frustrating. But, despite all that she warmed to her much more than he had to Beheggakegri. She was crazy but there was no doubting where her heart was; she meant what she said. She liked that. You knew where you were with that kind of person, even if she was totally misguided. Those Hydrans were a lost cause.

There was work to be done.

She began trawling through the Hydrans media, selecting shots of various rising stars busy rabble-rousing crowds, looking for potential; a strategy forming in her head. 400,000 hits on that one. She made a note.

Transforming hot air into action would soon bring out the true nature of these psychotic apes. She was sure of that. All she had to do was lubricate the wheels of dissent and transform it into physical confrontation.

Ron relaxed in his office following his speech. He’d poured himself a stiff whiskey. He told himself he deserved it but really it was to steady his shaking hand. He could not quite believe that he had done it, that he hadn’t simply dissolved into a blubbering heap.

A short while ago everything had been normal. He’d lived in his modest little house in his small village with his lovely wife. Life had been simple. He’d get up, have a leisurely breakfast, check out his facebook, check his book sales, check his emails and take a leisurely stroll down to the village shop to buy a paper. Read a little, write a lot, put out a bunch of posts on his blog aimed at the nincompoops, greed-ridden bombasts, violent extremists, religious nutcases and corrupt shitheads who ran the world and the ignorant, stupid, gullible, misinformed sheep who put them there. All utterly pointless, as his wife Liz kept telling him, but it allowed him to vent his spleen. It had all been so ordinary. Then the aliens had arrived and thrown the whole shebang up in the air. Part of him had liked that. In his opinion it had needed knocking to bits.  But, the jury was out as to whether they would really do what they said they would. He had to believe it, didn’t he?

Now here he was, sitting in a plush office in New York, in the UN building on Turtle Bay, not just visiting but actually fronting up a world government. And he’d just delivered a speech to 8 billion people. The biggest hit he’d ever had on his blog had been when one of his posts had gone viral and received over two thousand hits. That had knocked him out. Now, here he was with an audience in billions. He couldn’t quite take it in.

‘Where did that come from?’ Liz asked as he walked in to give him a big hug.

He grinned. ‘I dunno. How’s it feel to be the first lady?’

Out on the streets the shock had dissipated. People were emerging from their stunned comas. The realisation was hitting home.

Life was superficially getting back to normal but it was a false normality. Nothing was the same. The shops opened, the busses ran and businesses reopened but it was different. There were holes in all the corporations where the corrupt bosses had been and that meant vacancies that had to be filled, expertise that had to be found, decisions had to be made. Nothing was working properly yet. People were scrambling to get the jobs done. The corrupt, greedy and psychotic might have been selfish and corrupt but at least things worked, systems operated. Now corporations had to find ways to cover the absentees. There was a period of chaos as companies worked out how to bridge gaps.

Even with the best will in the world things take time. Even these alien lizards with all their super technology weren’t miracle workers. People had to be trained, resources had to be diverted. It took a lot of time. Periods of transition were always fraught. Nothing had ever happened on this scale before. It was going to take time. Until then it was muddle-through time.

On top of all the chaos caused by the abductions there were the bewildered troops, demobbed and sent home as their weapons were confiscated and they were decommissioned.

According to the lizards society was being dismantled and put together into something better. That’s not quite what it seemed like.

Chaos bred fear. Fear bred distrust. Distrust bred anger. Emotions whirled into tornadoes. Logic and rationality were the first casualties.

There were times when even the most optimistic despaired.

The Cleansing 11 – Chapter 3

Posted on by Opher

Sorting the plot for this novel to provide twists and turns was fun. This social/political satire is a reflection on the state of the world we have created but I wanted it to be a good read too!

Chapter 3 – Control and Lack of Control

Beheggakegri called a special meeting of the United Federation of Races committee. The damn time lapse in receiving information from Grrndakegra was proving a major problem. How could he possibly control things with this degree of waiting? By the time he received updates, the situation on Hydra had probably changed. If it hadn’t meant leaving the luxury of his beloved luxoservo Lomi with its unique dainties and quality psychosynth, he might have been tempted to make the trip himself. But he knew he couldn’t justify that. The Federal Administration would start asking questions. Hydra was just a pimple on the backside of the Federation. There were countless other nifts he was meant to be frying. His personal vendetta against Commander Chameakegra and her pet judge was no justification. The central council did not share his views. To them Hydra was a minor problem. Beheggakegri had plenty more issues to oversee than one tiny planet stuck out in the middle of nowhere. He was left frustrated.

‘Why is that drangling Judge getting herself involved?’ Beheggakegri railed, glaring around at the committee as if it were their fault. His eyes locked on Sang.

Sang knew what was coming. He saturated his epidermis in preparation and met Beheggakegri’s gaze. ‘She has sent us a communique stating that this case is so interesting she has decided to take a sabbatical and participate in the experiment.’

‘Participate in the experiment?’ Beheggakegri repeated in disbelief. ‘It’s none of her drangling business. Order her to keep her snout out of our drangling stuff!’

‘Actually,’ the Achec Zenn interceded, ‘she has a right to remain involved. It is enshrined in the constitution. Our claws are entangled.’

Beheggakegri rounded on him with a glare that threatened to melt titanium. ‘What drangling constitution??’ He turned back to Sang. ‘You drangling tell that dull‑scuted apology for a Judge to clear off. We are dealing with this.’

‘I’ll try,’ Sang replied calmly, already formulating the wording of a diplomatic request, ‘but I rather feel she won’t take any notice.’

‘Just order her!’ Beheggakegri bellowed.

‘We might be on more secure ground asking politely,’ the Jerbian Debo suggested tactfully.

‘Yes, we’re on very dodgy legal ground issuing orders to Judges,’ Bark the Marlan added.

Beheggakegri seemed ready to explode. The bulging flesh protruding between his scutes throbbed like an overripe godelberry. Colours raced across his plates in a manic psychedelic rainbow. Somehow he regained speech. ‘I don’t care how you do it. Just get that drangling Judge out of there!’

Grrndakegra thought she looked suitably impressive, decked out in her finest. Her image was beamed through every TV set on Hydra. They had seized every transmitter; the alien broadcast was the only game in town. Everyone wanted to hear what the invaders had to say.

She could not have believed her words would calm and reassure the terrified population. If she had, she was utterly wrong. If she meant to terrify, the Hydran reaction must have pleased her immensely. The sight of a giant gaudily coloured lizard with a crest, fangs, a bright blue forked tongue, and piercing green eyes was enough to send Hydrans into paroxysms of fear. To them she was a nightmare made flesh. Her voice, which she must have thought soothing as ordered by Judge Booghramakegra, barked from receivers like the growl of a rabid grizzly. Far from reassuring, it sent Hydran minds into frenzy. Many fainted outright. The visual impact of an adult Giforian in full regalia was petrifying. Who cared what she said? They had been invaded by dragons. Who knew what might happen? These aliens probably feasted on babies and barbequed people for fun.

Chameakegra watched the performance from the Neff’s bridge. Feeds poured in from across Hydra. This was not going well. She shook her scaly head. If only Grrndakegra had consulted instead of rushing in. This would be hard to recover from. Not the best of starts. But perhaps that was the point. Was Grrndakegra doing Beheggakegri’s bidding?

Commander Chameakegra mailed Grrndakegra to formally inform her of her intention to visit. The response was brief and less than welcoming. Grrndakegra was available for a thirty‑minute window at 10 hundred hours. Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, Chameakegra accepted.

Travelling alone in the shuttle, she was cleared for docking. Her entry onto Quorma was a far cry from the reception Grrndakegra had received on Neff. As the airlock dilated, a young female Dref waited to escort her directly to Grrndakegra’s quarters. Chameakegra struggled to hide her annoyance. No welcoming committee. It felt like an insult. It was an insult.

Grrndakegra’s quarters were Spartan and utilitarian. The Dref was dismissed. Chameakegra gestured to a pexi beside a low mense while Grrndakegra dealt with a ‘pressing’ matter on her comulator. After a few minutes she reluctantly dragged herself away and joined Chameakegra. No refreshments were offered.

Grrndakegra stared questioningly.

‘I thought it important that we liaise and formulate a policy on the best way to proceed,’ Chameakegra opened, keeping her tone neutral. She did not want to suggest Grrndakegra’s opening moves had been a disaster. That was self‑evident.

Grrndakegra looked puzzled. ‘I cannot see what there is to discuss or liaise on,’ she replied. Chameakegra thought she could already detect slight ripples of yellow annoyance in her scutes.
‘I think that the approach we take in dealing with the Hydrans will largely determine whether the mission succeeds or fails,’ Chameakegra insisted.

Grrndakegra looked even more confused. ‘The sequence is laid out. It is clear. We move in, take over all military, political and media institutions, and restore order. We’ve done that. Now we begin the process of moving forward. We dissolve all nations, set up a global government, begin to introduce a suitable education programme, and remove the errant Hydrans. Couldn’t be clearer. That is what I was initiating when you interrupted me.’

Chameakegra was shocked at the abruptness of the response. ‘Surely you can see that unless we actually take the population with us this will be doomed to fail?’

Grrndakegra shrugged. ‘They will either find themselves worthy or not. It’s of no consequence to me either way.’

‘Don’t you want to facilitate some rehabilitation and introduction to the Federation?’

Grrndakegra looked pensive but no pink tinge invaded her scutes. ‘Once we have removed the troublesome element, done away with the absurd archaic tribalism, and introduced a suitable education programme, I think it is largely in the hands of the Hydrans.’

‘But you are overlooking the emotional make‑up of these Hydrans. You are inviting opposition.’

‘It goes without saying that we will overhaul their energy production and industry. We will remove all pollution and cordon off areas of the natural habitat so that the ecosystems can mend. That will soon create a great improvement in their living conditions. No Hydrans will be starving or living in poverty. The air and water will be uncontaminated. The planet will replenish itself.’ Grrndakegra looked genuinely perplexed. If she was acting she was doing a good job. She appeared as if she really could not see what the problem was. ‘They will soon understand that things are far better under our control. Then we will see what they are made of.’

For a number of seconds Chameakegra sat and stared at Grrndakegra, not quite knowing how to respond. Was she really so ignorant or was she deliberately trying to sabotage the whole experiment? She had to at least assume that she was genuine. ‘We need to work together. I know the Hydrans. I’ve studied them, moved around in their societies. I understand what makes them tick. Take last night. That could have gone much more smoothly if you had consulted with me.’

The yellow ripple of annoyance gave way to a clear burst of green displeasure, though Chameakegra could see a slight pink of thoughtful consideration. ‘Yesterday proceeded very smoothly,’ Grrndakegra responded, an edge of anger and defiance dominating the clipped tones. ‘We successfully took over all strategic sites without opposition. We placed ourselves firmly in control and restored order. The first phase was completed without incident.’

‘That is as maybe,’ Chameakegra was attempting to find a conciliatory way forward. ‘But your subsequent broadcast failed to reduce Hydran fears and establish a way forward. It frightened the life out of them. Surely you can see that?’

Grrndakegra bristled, deep waves of green rippled over her scutes and her crest reared with a distinct warning white. ‘The broadcast was necessary to establish our control.’

‘Yes, but it did not need to be as frightening for the Hydrans. So frightening that they did not listen to what you had to say.’

Grrndakegra looked genuinely confused. Waves of black bewilderment began marching over her crest. If this was an act she deserved an award.

Chameakegra had to give her the benefit of doubt. ‘For Hydrans the sight of a large Giforian is a terrifying spectacle.’

Grrndakegra raised her palms. ‘But they have to get used to the sight of Giforians, Drefs, Achecs and the rest. We are here. We have taken over.’

‘But that could be done gradually. For that first broadcast, if you had kept what is to them a terrifying image out of the way, you might have had a calming effect. You could have talked to them and they would have listened. It was an opportunity to explain the benefits and reassure them that we are benevolent and mean them no harm. It was an opportunity to set a tone and allay their fears. They might not all have been won over, but it would not have exacerbated the problem.’

Grrndakegra shrugged again and slumped back with a grim look on her face. She regarded Chameakegra sternly. ‘We have invaded their planet and taken over. Do you really expect them to welcome us with open claws? They have to get used to it.’

‘No, I don’t expect them to welcome us, but I don’t believe we have to terrify them into submission,’ Chameakegra asserted, meeting Grrndakegra’s disparaging stare. ‘I am not thinking about the immediate situation. I’m projecting further into the future. If we handle this right and they come to see our take‑over as beneficial and short‑term, then I think we have a good chance of creating what I would consider to be a good outcome.’

Grrndakegra glared at her, daring her to put that outcome into words.

‘I want them developing their positive side and shucking off the negative attributes so that they can legitimately find a place in the Federation.’

‘Why?’ Grrndakegra seemed genuinely bemused.

Chameakegra gathered her thoughts. ‘Because I believe that at their best they are more than worthy. They are vibrant and creative and have a great deal to bring to the Federation.’

Grrndakegra seemed to consider that. ‘Hmmm, you are truly an idealist,’ she muttered. ‘I can’t say that I’ve seen any of those positive attributes that you speak of. They seem rather a weak, craven race to me, but I’ll take your word for it.’

Chameakegra took that as a step forward. ‘All I am suggesting is that we work closely together and you allow me an opinion in how things are carried out. I think that’s important.’

A distinct wave of mauve amusement flowed across Grrndakegra’s scutes as she smiled across at Chameakegra. ‘Alright then. What’s there to lose?’ They rattled claws.

‘I am sorting the arrangements for the separation. The techs have nearly completed the lunar facilities. I am going to start the process of extraction. Any suggestion on how that should proceed?’

Chameakegra ignored the condescending tone. The process of extracting the abhorrent elements was going to be ugly. She knew that but could see no way around it. They had to extract the poison before the wounds could heal. She had no advice to offer.
‘No. I don’t see any way of carrying out that operation painlessly. We have identified the individuals for extraction. We have furnished you with them. We just have to do it as quickly and painlessly as possible.’

Grrndakegra looked surprised. She had been expecting some kind of namby‑pamby protest.
‘I would like to draft a broadcast though. Something that will set out clearly what we intend to do and lay the groundwork for a future relationship,’ Chameakegra added.
‘I’ve no objection to that,’ Grrndakegra smiled.

The Cleansing 8 – the end of Chapter 1 and beginning Chapter 2

Posted on by Opher

I like to introduce a little satire into my books. Although concerned with aliens and usually futuristic situations (not in this case) I like my tales to reflect the social and political intrigue that runs the world. I like them ‘real’.

As a scientist I like my science based on reality. Here at the end of chapter 1 and beginning of chapter 2 I am setting up some political intrigue.

Onward:

Chameakegra had been in regular contact with Judge Booghramakegra, sending reports and sharing thoughts throughout the assessment. The judge appeared receptive. Shortly after the call from Beheggakegri another message came through.

Judge Booghramakegra’s imposing frame came into focus. The message had been sent to Beheggakegri, but Chameakegra was patched in.

The message was succinct:
I am aware the assessment phase is complete. I am sure you have the implementation in hand and have appointed the correct forces. However, after due consideration, and I am certain you will agree, we cannot afford to dispense with Commander Chameakegra’s intimate knowledge of the Hydrans. I have appointed her joint commander for the operation. — Judge Booghramakegra

Chameakegra felt her mood levitate. She could only imagine Beheggakegri’s response. That judge was a gem, an absolute gem.

Her entire integument turned bright blue. Bring it on!

Chapter 2 – Arrival

Grrndakegra was mopping up after an extermination of an errant civilisation newly discovered in the Perseus Arm of the Milky Way when orders came through from Sang. Beheggakegri was instructing her to gather ships and personnel for a new mission. Her crest bristled, scutes oscillating with black and white waves of bewilderment and anger. She was due a lengthy break. This was not welcome. She had plans — troposphere surfing on a gas giant followed by a retreat on a moon with spectacular views, outrageous luxury, and every form of relaxation known to Giforians. It was all arranged. She deserved it. All she had been uncertain about was whether three male companions would be sufficient given the way she was feeling. Her hormones were up. Now those plans were dashed. She had to take more medication to suppress her oestrus yet again. Infuriating. But she was not in a position to refuse.

The black and white colours flowing through her thoracic plates deepened, joined by waves of yellow annoyance that gave way to pink intrigue as she studied the draft from UFOR headquarters on Gestor. The more she read, the more she realised this was no ordinary operation. Indeed, she had heard of nothing like it. The pink deepened, though green displeasure tinged the edges of her scales. Giforians did not appreciate being ordered around, especially by Sang. That amphibian had an annoying manner, always doing Beheggakegri’s dirty work. Now her leave was cancelled, replaced by a task immensely complicated, even if intriguing: separating aliens into three categories, only one of which was for extermination. What was that about? Somehow she was meant to provide rehabilitation for millions of aliens. That was well beyond her experience.

Grrndakegra took a deep breath and sat back in her command pexi before replying. No rush. She read the brief again to ensure she had not misunderstood. Reaching out with clenched talons, she operated the controls and barked orders. The mopping up was to be done super‑quick. All leave cancelled. Another mission. She knew her crew would not be pleased. Tough. They would not be as miffed as she was.

She turned her attention back to the brief. No time to dwell on what was lost. Surfing and copulation would have to wait. Messages flew as she organised sufficient force to carry out the unusual, if not unique, mission. Crew were ferried in and out as she prepared for this ridiculous assignment — alien behaviour experts, administrators, control units, armed craft, construction operators, and a large number of Stormtroopers. The more the merrier. She earmarked a contingent of feisty Giforians she had used before. Efficient and effective. She added a batch of truculent Drefs. They would do.

The more she studied the mission, the more complex it became. According to the judge’s brief she was to invade the planet, subdue the population without traumatising them, set up administration, reorganise social and political structures, sort and separate the population, and establish a rehabilitation centre. Who had heard of such a thing? Rehabilitation — what next?

White scutes of anger drove her actions as she assembled craft and personnel. The fact it seemed unachievable did not matter. How were they supposed to abduct aliens without trauma? A nonstarter. Her Giforians specialised in creating trauma. Whoever thought up this scheme needed exterminating.

When everything was in motion, tasks delegated to competent staff, she sat like a statue before her comulator, running through her mental checklist, searching for gaps, weaknesses, further actions. Only when certain she had things under control did she check Commander Chameakegra’s credentials. She suspected they would have a close relationship in the days ahead, as Chameakegra was charged with providing the data for the mission. Shades of pink and green flowed over her crest as she flicked through the information. She did not like what she found. Chameakegra seemed too much of a loose laser. Grrndakegra liked precision. Chameakegra sounded wiffly‑waffly. Time would tell. She hoped Commander Chameakegra had a handle on these aliens. That was the best she could hope.

Grrndakegra flicked on the tridee messenger, composed herself with as much of a blue sheen as she could manage, and prepared to respond to Sang. All was in hand. They were on their way.

The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278910817: Books

Jonathan Pie, Trump and the BBC – Satire or truth?

Posted on by Opher

Jonathan Pie in his indomitable calm reflective mood. Not so much satire as naked truth!

Straight to Hell! Loved this – made me laugh!

Posted on by Opher

If only there was a hell for all the greedy, self-serving psychopaths!!

The Last Idealist on Earth – Sci-fi fun – Out Now!

Posted on by Opher

The Last Idealist on Earth
A speculative satire of planetary redemption, alien intervention, and the power of pub-born revolution.
In a world on the brink of collapse, one man — armed with stubborn hope, a pint in hand, and a circle of fiercely loyal friends — becomes the unlikely architect of humanity’s salvation.
Opher Goodwin never asked to be President of the World. He just wanted to fix things. But when four luminous aliens arrive with the power to reshape reality, he’s thrust into a revolution that dismantles nations, rewrites economies, and seeds life across galaxies.
From televised ridicule to planetary acclaim, from the back room of the Blue Post to the chambers of the United Nations, this is the story of how idealism — flawed, furious, and deeply human — might just save us all.
A tale of transformation, grief, and the quiet joy of playing hide-and-seek with your dog in a field of wildflowers, The Last Idealist on Earth is a satirical, soulful journey through the end of one world and the beginning of something better.

I enjoy writing satire – serious content in a playful manner. My novels are intended to be entertaining and thought-provoking; an easy read with lasting issues to mull over.

This is my latest outing – a novel from a little while back that I have just rewritten and had edited. I hope you enjoy it.

The Last Idealist on Earth: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798271956256: Books

Available in 4 formats: Hardback, Paperback, Ebook and Audio

The Last Two Humans now available as kindle! Sci-fi humour and satire at its best!

Posted on by Opher

The Last Two Humans eBook : Forsythe, Ron: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

Will shortly be available in Paperback and Hard back!

THE LAST TWO HUMANS
The Last Two Humans is a satirical, emotionally charged exploration of extinction, love, and the stories we choose to believe. With echoes of Vonnegut, Orwell, and Douglas Adams, it’s a tale of absurdity, tenderness, and the strange hope that survives the end of the world.
Love, extinction, and the absurdity of survival.
Nick and Jenny wake to find themselves trapped in a research enclosure on a distant planet. They don’t know how they got there, or why—but they have each other. And when they make love, the universe takes notice.
Their intimate moment, accidentally broadcast by a rogue alien, goes viral across the galaxy. Suddenly, human sex becomes the hottest commodity in existence. The institute that was about to be shut down is now the centre of a cultural revolution. Politicians pivot, bureaucrats rebrand, and the last two humans become symbols of everything society claims to value: empathy, connection, and the will to survive.
But behind the applause lies a darker truth—opportunism, manipulation, and the rewriting of history. As the rest of humanity is wiped out by a mysterious virus, Nick and Jenny’s quiet resilience becomes a beacon in a world that never meant to save them.

He’s Back!!

Posted on by Opher

We sure need a reality check following Trump’s absurd, arrogant, egotistical garbage in the UN.

The arrogant fool, desperate for a Nobel Peace Prize, claims to have stopped 7 wars:

Donald Trump has repeatedly claimed that he ended seven “unendable” wars during his presidency, particularly in speeches at the United Nations and other public events. According to his statements and White House sources, the seven conflicts he refers to are:

  1. India and Pakistan – Trump claims to have brokered a ceasefire following heightened tensions after the Pahalgam terror attack. India, however, denies any U.S. mediation, stating the ceasefire was achieved through direct military talks2.
  2. Israel and Iran – After a brief but intense conflict involving Israeli strikes on Iranian nuclear sites, Trump says he helped broker a ceasefire through pressure on both sides.
  3. Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo – Trump announced a treaty between these nations, crediting his administration’s diplomatic efforts.
  4. Thailand and Cambodia – A ceasefire was reportedly reached after Trump threatened to stall trade deals unless the fighting stopped4.
  5. Armenia and Azerbaijan – Trump hosted a peace agreement signing at the White House, ending decades of conflict between the two former Soviet republics.
  6. Egypt and Ethiopia – Trump claims to have helped de-escalate tensions, likely referring to disputes over the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam.
  7. Serbia and Kosovo – Trump includes this long-standing Balkan conflict among the wars he says were resolved under his leadership4.

While Trump attributes these outcomes to his leadership—often citing trade leverage and diplomatic pressure—many of the countries involved either dispute the extent of U.S. involvement or note that hostilities were not full-scale wars. Experts also point out that some of these conflicts remain unresolved or only temporarily paused.

THE MAN IS AN INVETERATE LIAR!!

He denies climate change despite the obvious heating of the planet, bush fires, floods and droughts.

This man’s grasp of science is not even at elementary school level. Someone needs to inject him with bleach!!

Thank Heavens Jimmy Kimmel is back!!

An immigrant doing the job no American wants!

Posted on by Opher

What is Melania Trump’s reaction to her husband’s association with Jeffrey Epstein?

Melania is in her lawyer’s office

Lawyer: So, what can I do for you now?

Mel: Look, I read paper, and I see world knows about Jeff and Donald. Damn. The man is pure filth. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to marry such a gross pig. Is it too late to change prenup? Yes, I knew he was friends with Jeff. But I didn’t know Jeff liked young girls. I didn’t know about that gross birthday card. And yes I thought his relationship with Ivanka was weird but…

Look, I know now he’s just evil. I just want more money to cover shame. I know Barron is too old for more support money. But look at all the money he’s making again with all his scams. I want a piece of that. Every time I turn around it’s one foul thing after another. It’s getting harder to go out in public.

Lawyer: (Rubs forehead) Mrs. Trump. You were just here, what? Less than a year ago? I don’t think we can do too much else. We had him last time against a wall when it looked like he was headed to jail and that’s why we could squeeze him like a ripe orange then. You had a lot of leverage then. And um, you DID know they were friends.

Mel: I know, but I cannot rent myself out anymore to this waste of skin. It’s obvious hoping for jail is waste. He’s not ever going to jail. I had high hopes those black DAs in New York or Georgia or Jack Smith would send him and his revolting kids to jail, but it didn’t happen. I’m getting older. I hope I can find someone before I get too old for plastic surgery to help. But I want more money. He’s making money again with his crooked sons. Even Ivanka is talking to him again now that he has money and won’t be going to prison. He was broke before he get elected. I want my cut. We thought he’d stay broke when we made deal.

Lawyer: Mrs. Trump, my suggestion is that you wait it out. You don’t have the leverage you had before he got elected. He doesn’t really need to make any deals any more. Barron is an adult, you can’t get any more money using him. He isn’t worried about the public opinion any more. He knows he won’t go to jail, and that is why he ran again, to stay out of jail.

Mrs. Trump. Look at him. He’s nearly 80, clearly on his way to senility, and has a lot more wrong with him than some swelling in his leg. He was falling asleep during the Pope’s funeral. Nature, or God if you prefer, is clearly getting ready to claim him. He’ll likely be dead within the next five years, and you aren’t living with him anyway. Marriage laws will ensure you get all that revenue from all those shoes and Bibles and meme coins he’s hawking since that income was made during the marriage. You likely won’t even be sixty when he finally goes to his reward. Patience, ma’am, patience.

Mel: I guess you’re right. As long as I don’t have to share my house with him, I can wait. I just can’t believe I pick such a lousy person to have kid with. It’s embarrassing. He’s embarrassing. I cringe every time he shoot his mouth off on the internet. Sitting next to him at the Pope’s funeral with him snoring and farting and drooling was absolute torture.

Lawyer: Your inheritance after he kicks will be its own reward. Have a wonderful day. My bill will be in the mail.

Had to steal this – great satire!