Blip!

"Come on Jerry. Things aren't that bad."
Una & Jerry were flicking 'round the channels on the TV.
"Celebrity egg & spoon race & you say things are not that bad?"
They'd secured a flat in Brixton & the sounds of distant sirens courted the panic viewing in their living room. Jerry mimicked the news presenter that blipped onto the screen.
"The government says it has got control of the immigrant problem. Illegal immigrants will be flushed out & blah blah blah.... You'd think Britain would have wanted Hitler to win judging by the mass media take on the so called moral majority."
"No such thing Jerry you know that."
"We're immigrants. We migrate through time as well as space."
Everything in the room spun to the right & readjusted itself after objects flickered in & out of phase.
"What's illegal about immigration? The British have been doing it for centuries. No one seems to regard their behaviour as "immigrant" when they buy a holiday home in the fucking Algarve!" Una was looking angry.
"I think my real dad was Russian."
"I know.... I think I shagged him."
"Mr Brown?"
"Mr Brown."
"Lev Bronstein was an idealist. What the hell went wrong with you?"
"Absentee father. Absentee step-father. Alcoholic mother. A villain for a brother. An over-sexed drug fiend for a sister. Run down inner-city accommodation. If ASBO's had been in operation when I was a kid our family would probably be holding some kind of national record!"
Jerry flicked the channel. Some stylised American cop show came on.
"That's all we need. American police propaganda."
"No different in effect from its British equivalents." replied Una.
"Ever met a copper like that?" Jerry was referring to the unrealistic chase scene on the telly.
"Ever met a space/time continuum like that?" Laughed Una.
"An infinite number of alternatives & TV still largely misses the lot. It's run by idiots!"
"Let's assassinate the head of Pi TV. We all know what he does with little kids behind closed doors. Fuck warfare let's get Hashishin on his arse!" Una hadn't looked as vibrant in weeks. Jerry had begun to think their recent addiction to the TV was draining them both.

Prince Rupert of Pi TV sat by his pool on his private south sea island. He was sipping champaign & moaning about human lethargy. "I worked bloody hard for my wealth. All these wannabes out there bemoaning their situation when all they do all day is watch the TV."
His court jester cut in.... "Does that not serve your ends sir? Thou shalt get them hooked on mindless rubbish that they become less able to compete with your majesty?"
"Steady fool."
"Why so grumpy oh prince of the paparazzi, king of kitsch, lord of the push-button lobotomy? Hast thou not succeeded in breeding dullards & mountebanks? For wont of a healthy conversation with an equal hast thou not proven your hegemony?"
Prince Rupert just looked glum & sank in his chair. The fool carried on....
"If a man's brains were in his heels, weren't not in danger of kibes?"
"Ay boy."
"Then , I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall not go slipshod."
The fool fingered the bells on his hat & jigged about waving his stick & pigs bladder in the air. "Phht" The fool spun round in reaction to the sound.
Prince Rupert hung from his chair with a needle embedded deep inside one of his eye-sockets.
"Nuncle!"
His killers were nowhere to be seen. A card was resting on Rupert's stomach. The fool picked it up.
On it was a circle with eight arrows pointing outwards & beneath that some writing in flowery hippie script. A font called "chick" if he remembered rightly. You have been hit by The Inner City Unit. It was signed Jerry Cornelius "Chrononaught".

The CIA, MI5, Mossad, Russian secret service agents & just about every private security firm up for a reward were now after Jerry.
"Looks like we hit the right man." said Una as she stroked a white long-haired cat. She was dressed in a satin dressing gown & a pair of espadrilles. Jerry was dressed in a woman's suit. He adjusted his skirt & put the long blonde wig over his own hair. He rearranged his false breasts.
"I'm going up the shops for a pint of milk. Do you want anything?"
"Yeah," said Una, "four cans of 5% lager, a packet of superkings & some slim, extra length king size rizla, the blue ones."
"Righto."
They'd stolen three separate military aircraft to get to Prince Rupert's island. Their book of false ID's & fake passes had proven invaluable. A week to get to Rupert. A week to get back.

A further week for the international community to take stock of what had happened & another week for every international hit man & woman worth their salt to embark on the world's biggest man-hunt. The press had said Rupert died of a heart attack. Not even his family knew the truth. The jester had been a top level Israeli intelligence officer. He was not about to make it known that the second most powerful man in the world could be taken down so easily.

Jerry came back from the shops with a very gay afro-carribean who he introduced as Arnie. He was dressed in a tight fitting yellow lycra T-shirt & a pair of black PVC hot-pants. Over this he wore a long, purple fake fur overcoat. They floated past Una who was grinning madly & disappeared into Jerry's bedroom.

Two hours later they emerged, wafted past Una in the opposite direction & went out into the Brixton streets again. An hour later Jerry returned, took his falsies off, exchanged his two-piece blazer & skirt for a leather jacket, leather shirt, leather trousers & he replaced his high heeled shoes for leather boots.
"I hope you're using condoms Jerry." said Una still watching TV.
"Of course."
"Be careful. You look worryingly like you."
"They ain't looking in Brixton for an international assassin & I aint on any files. It's almost too easy."
"That's what's worrying me."