Fox (n): carnivore of genus vulpes; crafty person; scavenger; (vb) to confuse; -ed (adj): to be drunk.

Thursday, 24 January 2013

So wonewy.

COMRADES!

This is your beloved leader Kim Jong-un speaking from the Eternal Palace of Spotless Flame on a crystal mountain above our mighty capital Pyongyang where 79 gazillion people live in happy productivity!


I bring you great news of our continuing battle against the capitalist running dog aggressors of the West and their never-ending efforts to destroy our prosperous republic and force our mighty motherland into economic slavery.

Firstly, we have acted to stop the vicious slurs they have made against me, your leader chosen by God who happened to be a personal friend of my father and grandfather, and claims that I have had plastic surgery for propaganda reasons to look more like Grandpops.


These sordid slurs harm the dignity of your heavenly leader and are entirely untrue, as the doctor assured me my bone structure indicated I was Grandpops reincarnated and it was a simple matter of rearranging the skin, tucking the eyelids, repositioning the nose, and wearing his old clothes to bring the truth to the surface. A nurse was on hand at all times to assure me of my inner beauty and was so useful I've kept her on.

In our glorious sunshine capital I have ordered the construction of new apartment blocks, the refurbishment of department stores, and built a new amusement park for my people to enjoy.


In excellent news of our great nation's never-ending technological advances, this one has safety belts on the rides, which the last three did not.

We have also launched an online racing game in which foreign pigs may learn the glorious joy of trundling slowly around Pyongyang in an elderly Lada looking for black market fuel. It will work just as soon as God obeys my instructions to deliver a server, plug socket and keyboard to the programmer I am keeping in an underground cell.

Thanks to my great financial prowess, the cost of a packet of cheese is now a mere £7, a chicken breast is just £8, a pair of trainers will set you back an insignificant £200 and it is £50 to see a doctor; all very achieveable on our national average wage of a whopping £568 a year, I'm sure you'll agree.

All my hard work has created a massive economic boom for you, my grateful people, with many of you moving from the country to the city to work on my great new construction dream, part of which has been to finish the so-called Tower of Doom begun by my holy father 25 years ago.


I grant you the lobby needs some work, but it's really coming on a treat.

Despite vicious and sly claims by the European Chamber of Commerce that its lift shafts are wonky and the concrete liable to disintegrate, this shiny glass victory edifice will open as a hotel for foreign re-education tourists in the next year, bringing many American billions to our booming industries.


I have even had to electrify the barbed wire fence around our beaches to stop any desperate capitalists trying to get in and enjoy the wonderful life of a North Korean.


It has come to your beloved leader's attention, however, that the counter-revolutionary pigs of our warlike and underhand neighbours to the south claim that this process of turning farmers into slightly-rubbish concrete mixers has created a famine in our most profitable farming area, on which we rely to feed our mighty army of one million people as well as me and all my mates.

Your venerable president for life has been accused of directly causing the death by starvation of 20,000 people in this region since coming to power, a typical capitalist smear by those who cannot grasp the ineffable nature of my plans for our nation's long-term independence and prosperity.

I have decided the best way to preserve the amazing world-dominating success of our high-tech industries, construction sector and vital social development is not to go begging cap-in-hand to our aggressors and asking them for food aid.

The overtly militaristic and oppressive regimes of the West will only insist that we dismantle all our scientific space and armed forces projects first, a mistake which would lead to the bloody dismembering of all North Korean peoples by the cannibals who lurk beyond our borders.

Indeed, they were so terrified of our last successful missile launch they said there would be no food aid on offer until we rendered ourselves powerless.


As these enemies of truth are in need of a stern lesson from the excellent military might and indigenous wisdom of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, we have therefore today announced that we will continue our efforts to build a massive castle in space from which I can bare my bottom at the world, as well as continue tests of our powerful and deadly nuclear weapons.

Suggestions that our previous two efforts at nuclear bombs either misfired or produced only a small amount of radiation inside a mountain are slurs by the downtrodden puppets of the US Geological Survey, as our great weapons are more than capable of causing great terror to the Americans.

Reports that they hold 5,113 nuclear warheads many hundreds of times more powerful than ours are entirely false and anyone who repeats them will be struck down by the mighty hand of Kim Jong-un.

The world should quake at our great advances, our economic drive, and world-beating Olympic weight-lifting team. I, Kim Jong-un, assure you, my beloved people whose success and continued development are my sole concern once I've had my six breakfast McMuffins, that our victory over the vicious coyotes of the West is imminent and will be glorious.

While we wait for this moment of destiny, I recommend you all remain quiet and calm, ignoring any selfish and capitalist hunger pangs, while I carry on with my rockets, my space castle, my Tower of Doom and other wonderful plans for your continued happiness and glory.

And do not, at any point, expect the West to do anything useful about all of this or for you to get your hands on anything approaching a lightbulb.

Who feels wonewy now, huh?