Corona Virus – It is all Rhodie Tony’s fault.
Yes, soiree folks, struths Bob. The fingers of disease points at him.
It happened in late November when he got self-employed and received a Mexican contract to sell Corona Beer to the Chinese. Plundering his credit cards, a suitcase of 250 samples of the stuff, he took the Marco Polo train from Venice, and by the time he had landed up being thrown out at some station in Hu Wee Me Amwoo province - he was very ill.
His head was fit to explode – his lungs seemed to rattle with granite at each puff on a cigarette. Dizzy and disorientated, he didn’t bother taking his crates of empties as he staggered to a taxi.
‘Take me to a hospital, I am dying.’
The driver didn’t have a clue what he wanted, but noticing his heebie jeebies, the sweats, a body vibrating like a tuning fork, he passed his passenger a glowing pipe of top grade opium. This calmed Rhodie Tony a tad and when he was dropped off at a fish market, he managed to pay the driver and spiralled among the rows of fish mongers wares.
Gwad, thought Tony, I need a doctor not a prawn sandwich. Most of the sellers couldn’t believe their eyes and stopped squinting to open them wide. As Tony crashed into many stalls, slippering on tuna fish guts, fighting with squids; the sellers and buyers shouted – ‘Zing wing wong woo American hoo wackoo.’ (Translate – Fuck off you Yank lunatic.)
Tony, thanks to his opium hit, understood perfectly and shouted back – ‘I am a Rhodesian, you fucking slit eyed, Mugabe supporter, communist bastards.’ That did not go down a treat with the local populace. It was during a good kicking that Tony finally released what the problem was with him, and vomited up four litres of unfiltered Corona, straight down the mouth of a giant cod fish.
Arrested, he was popped on the next plane going anywhere, as the authorities couldn’t a wing a wong (head or tails), of his Rhodesian Diplomatic passport with a non-expiry date. Tony was dropped off in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, rescued by migrants in a rubber dingy, he managed to get a people smuggler to get him home in Germany…but the die and dying, had been cast.
The codfish landed up in Seoul, half of it- the rest went to Tehran. There an Italian man ate some, flew home to Milan and infected so many people – 23 million are in quarantine.
Finally, totally exhausted, Tony got a part time job being a gigolo for old woman on a cruise ship.
The rest you know is history unfolding.
This is not Fake News – this is Insanity
Yes, soiree folks, struths Bob. The fingers of disease points at him.
It happened in late November when he got self-employed and received a Mexican contract to sell Corona Beer to the Chinese. Plundering his credit cards, a suitcase of 250 samples of the stuff, he took the Marco Polo train from Venice, and by the time he had landed up being thrown out at some station in Hu Wee Me Amwoo province - he was very ill.
His head was fit to explode – his lungs seemed to rattle with granite at each puff on a cigarette. Dizzy and disorientated, he didn’t bother taking his crates of empties as he staggered to a taxi.
‘Take me to a hospital, I am dying.’
The driver didn’t have a clue what he wanted, but noticing his heebie jeebies, the sweats, a body vibrating like a tuning fork, he passed his passenger a glowing pipe of top grade opium. This calmed Rhodie Tony a tad and when he was dropped off at a fish market, he managed to pay the driver and spiralled among the rows of fish mongers wares.
Gwad, thought Tony, I need a doctor not a prawn sandwich. Most of the sellers couldn’t believe their eyes and stopped squinting to open them wide. As Tony crashed into many stalls, slippering on tuna fish guts, fighting with squids; the sellers and buyers shouted – ‘Zing wing wong woo American hoo wackoo.’ (Translate – Fuck off you Yank lunatic.)
Tony, thanks to his opium hit, understood perfectly and shouted back – ‘I am a Rhodesian, you fucking slit eyed, Mugabe supporter, communist bastards.’ That did not go down a treat with the local populace. It was during a good kicking that Tony finally released what the problem was with him, and vomited up four litres of unfiltered Corona, straight down the mouth of a giant cod fish.
Arrested, he was popped on the next plane going anywhere, as the authorities couldn’t a wing a wong (head or tails), of his Rhodesian Diplomatic passport with a non-expiry date. Tony was dropped off in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, rescued by migrants in a rubber dingy, he managed to get a people smuggler to get him home in Germany…but the die and dying, had been cast.
The codfish landed up in Seoul, half of it- the rest went to Tehran. There an Italian man ate some, flew home to Milan and infected so many people – 23 million are in quarantine.
Finally, totally exhausted, Tony got a part time job being a gigolo for old woman on a cruise ship.
The rest you know is history unfolding.
This is not Fake News – this is Insanity
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