I am rather tied up with discussions on the American book contract and such, so here is a repost from my early blogging days. This was in response to a challenge by Arb Thinker to do a Pratchett skit; and the context was SA winning the Rugby World Cup,  the subsequent axing of the captain and moans generally, the state of polly ticks, and such…


DISCLAIMER: Readers do so at their own risk. No responsibility will be accepted for seizures suffered by Voozees, Boorah, the Politically Correct subspecies, those allergic to satire, or anybody else.  Anyone prone to seizures should read without looking.


THE VOOZEES by Perry Trashtit.


  In a small state in the extreme south of Ankle Muckup was a race of dark men who were called the Voozees; that is, when anybody ever bothered to call them.* They were in a small state because they had stopped short in growing. Nobody was winning their race, which made their tempers match their height, and their mood match their colour. The Voozees were also confused by the fact that a group called the Boorah had stopped bullying them, which made them feel insecure. So they went round killing all the Boorah in the hopes that this might make them go back to bossing them around again.**

  They elected a leader called Tabbo Mob-echo, who decided the best way to be a ruler was withdrawing in a straight line as far away as possible, leaving spokesmen to wheel and deal for him. These spokesmen were tyreless, but some spokes became loose and they took a bad turn.

  Then the remaining Boorah sent a group of their warriors to fight in other countries*** and conquered the whole world. This really annoyed the Voozies because they said that they should have done that. The Boorah pointed out that most of them were too short to fight lions and such. This sounded like logic to the Voozies, and logic was banned in their society****, so they got rid of the leader of the Boorah warriors.

  At this stage they decided that maybe they needed someone to rule instead of Tabbo and they prepared some leg-irons at the absent leader’s desk so that they could keep the new one at home. Then they started looking for a replacement.

  It turned out that their Rightful King was a Voozee working in the Guard, who looked like one of the Boorah. When they approached him he said …


(Not to be continued …)


*At one stage they had been called quite often, but that was to serve tea and fetch things and things.

**But the Boorah they had killed didn’t oblige.

*** With a couple of Voozees to fetch and carry.

****The All Nasty Customers society.


© Colonialist 2007( Blogs)

About colonialist

Active septic geranium who plays with words writing fantasy novels and professionally editing, with notes writing classical music, and with riding a mountain bike, horses and dinghies. Recently Indie Publishing has been added to this list.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.


  1. Do you know, Colinialist, I wondered who your style reminded me of (sorry, horrid grammar, simply horrid) You and our Terry have a similar approach. Great pastiche.


  2. theonlycin says:

    *looks bewildered and scratches head*


You have the right to remain silent - but please don't!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s