Kill Paul: Volume I
I was angry, yes, I was. I wore my Oranje jersey, a copy of Barely Legal in one hand (those half-time breaks can be so boring) and squeezing the plastic glass of Coca-Cola in the other, not even noticing the Coke spurting out and pouring onto my hands, as I watched yellow card after yellow card, foul after foul, free kick after free kick, go against the Dutch, and I, my incredulity bursting forth, couldn't restrain myself from the anger that boiled inside, and burst forth like an Icelandic volcano (only difference being, we could laugh at that one).
And then came Iniesta, and he broke me. And I could not control the rage that erupted from within me, like stupidity from Bush's mouth, like promiscuousness from Paris Hilton's character. And as my rage ripped through, it made me ponder, and ponder I did. Someone was responsible.
It wasn't the Spanish, they weren't at their best, far from it. Some would say the Dutch even played better. Then why? Who was responsible for this blatant disregard for justice? My brain sizzled under the question: who could it be?
And it hit me, as sure as buses hit pedestrians on Dhaka roads (except, the thought didn't try running away), it was him. Him, with his droopy eyes, and sucking tentacles. Him, with his look of an old man, weighed down under the force of wrinkling skin and age. Him, the octopus, the animal, the liar.
I didn't know for sure, but my senses told me there was something amiss, something 'fishy' (pun intended.) So I did some intensive and thorough research, i.e., Wikipedia. And the information I received was more than just a little suspicious. I got distracted by seeing Larissa Riquelme's interview for a while (didn't help that Lady Lovelove got all jealous and we had a huge fight over me gagaing over her…assets), but it didn't distract me enough to stop what my heart had so vehemently decided to do. Well, I also killed some police officers in GTA IV (73% completed, woot), but I assure you, I was determined.
Paul is named after the poem Der Tintenfisch Paul Oktopus, which contains the lines 'Lokentish La Puluchulu Don Merit, Mak Loff Sava Nien, Du Sherit.' This roughly translates to: The tentacles, they'll suck in their defeat, and while we wait, we'll see the Yellow triumph eventually.” Maybe there's no 'red' in the poem, but 'yellow' was there, and that was enough for me. Paul is also colour-blind, but I found out that he can use his senses to taste the water. So, dependent on the flag, the chemical differences of the water near the flags would be different and the octopus would most likely be able to tell the difference. But that wasn't the shocking part. After reading some more, I found out that Paul had been born in Weymouth, England and while being transferred, he had been in custody of a certain Labo De Predictionalo Hypocritos (LDPH) under the Portuguese government, situated in downtown Manchester.
Sensing stench in the air and Lady Lovelove's rage in the next room, I immediately called Obama again and ordered him to send Air Force One for me straight away (He's the American President, he doesn't really have much to do) to take me to Ringway, where Manchester Airport is located.
I rush off to the LDPH, and at first, they wouldn't let me in. After showing my credentials, and threatening them with violence under the hands of the army of Secret Service agents at my disposal, they allow me to talk to the head researcher, a man named Luis Zapatero Jr. That name struck at the back of my mind, but I couldn't quite place it. I asked him a few questions about what experiments Paul had undergone during his stay at the lab, but he wasn't forthcoming. I threatened him with violence again, but this time, he wasn't persuaded. Being the great Doctor that I am, I noticed the knismesis lobes situated in his neck and I immediately used this information to my benefit. I ordered the Secret Service to hold him down and then, wearing silk gloves as smooth as Justin Beiber's butt, I tickled him. I tickled him with so much eloquence and grace and precision, and he laughed so hard, dying of pain, but unable to hold it back in, he puked out the information I had traveled so far to attain. There was a tape, he said. He opened a safe and gave it to us, begging for mercy, to not tell his father. It was then that I realised where I had heard his name before: José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero. He was the son of a Prime Minister.
And so I played the tape. It was Paul's tank. The camera only showed Paul, looking up, and the shadow of a man covering him. The man's voice: “People are idiots. Look at those damn Americans for Christ's sakes. We overrated them. Truth is people from every other country are just as stupid. They believe these predictions, and so do the players. Paul never predicted anything. He just gave whoever he chose the confidence to win.” It was at this moment that I noticed the familiarity of his accent. “Coat the Spanish flag with Oyster sauce. He'll choose it in a flash. And the Spanish kingdom will gain the confidence they need. This World Cup is ours.” He started laughing and so did another man, whom I recognised instantly. Paul, who seemed to be trained, only nodded.
They started talking again. The camera panned up to show the two figures. One was José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero and the other was Juan Carlos I. They were the Prime Minister and King of Spain.
(to be continued.)
By Dr. Lovelove
The week in re(ar)view
A sporting attitude
Also, Bangladesh won the second one-day international cricket match by five runs in Bristol on Saturday to record a first victory over England in any format. It is such a big deal that the phrase 'Big Deal' is now being replaced with 'Bangladesh Beats England Like Hell Yeah'.
And for a final note on sports, 'sports is good for your health'. As long as we don't have to participate.
Black is the colour of happiness
In a related bit of trivia, Darth Vader from Star Wars once said, 'You don't know the power of the dark side.' It can clean up illegal money.
Hide those whips
As per the rules of the Constitution, the citizens will not be subject to cruel, inhumane and degrading treatment or punishment, the HC said. Usually, these punishments were acts of violence inflicted on women in the name of fatwa by local religious leaders and powerful groups.
A leak in the system
Over 1.32 lakh people were supposed to sit for 1,968 posts across the country. ATM Mostafa, compositor of BG Press, said they bought the question paper from Anisul Islam of BG Press for Tk 25 lakh. Answers don't come cheap.
Each candidate was charged Tk 5 lakh. They were given multiple-choice question papers along with answers. They were asked to return the question papers and answers once they memorised those.
Somehow when we abstain, we need more sugar. Go figure. The government can't either but at least this time it is creating a buffer stock of 100,000 tonnes of sugar through domestic and international procurement to meet additional demand and keep the sugar price stable during the holy month of Ramadan.
By Mood Dude & Someone
Your love-hate connection with Rising Stars
Word on our last issue:
Raisa T Khan: Loved the Elfen Lied review. I'm glad someone else noticed how out-of-place those characters with large eyes and glossy hair look in the midst of all those flying body parts... S.N. Rasul was awesome, as always. Loved the chanachur review and Babu. All hail Ruchi BBQ and Jamai Bou chanachur!
Syed Shadman Sakib Akash: Hi, our "Koko-san" ) is a good writer and a nice guy, liked his "ELFEN LIED". I liked Sabrina Fatma Ahmad apu's book review "Remember me?", and Dr. Lovelove, you answered really well: "she's really a true bengali-cinema-heroine, no doubt"! Chanachur was yummy, and I also liked Babu.
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