NationStates Jolt Archive

http://h1.ripway.com/reclaim/kenny-try2.gif
Department of State
The Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny
That's right, folks! In celebration of our nation's envied status as the 112,403rd smartest nation in the NS world, the Kenny Embassy Exchange Program is officially open for business! If you want to clog your capital city's diplomatic district with yet another superfluous embassy compound, or you just want to get a troublemaker in your government out of the way by appointing him ambassador to some far-off, pissant country with a funny name, this thread's for you!!

A little about us:

We're a bunch of flag-wavin', gun-totin', Bible-readin', Jesus-lovin', football*-watchin', beer-drinkin', UN-hatin' rednecks who reside in the God-forsaken sub-sub-sub-zero desolation of the Antarctic. Our people dwell in igloos on snowy plains and ice metropolises on the receding glaciers; they're extremely industrious and hardworking, which has really pumped up our economy, but, God love 'em, they're dumb as hell (http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a118/teddygrahams113/clip_image002.jpg), and easily brainwashed by clever slogans and cheesy marketing gimmicks, allowing the corporations to take over. We invade rogue nations at the drop of a hat if we have the slightest suspicion that they're aiding terrorists. We recently liberated the island of Tiki Taki to disarm it of its weapons of mass destruction (which turned out to be the natives' spears). We despise world government, and our people are convinced the WA (and the UN before it) is a dangerous stepping-stone toward that end, so we've sent them a (literal) ticking time bomb (www.nswiki.net/index.php?title=Susa_Batko-Yovino) as ambassador.

We're perfectly compatible with right-leaning, capitalist, "filthy sovereigntist" nations; however, if you're a left-leaning country and just reading the description of our country has made you ill, well, better to keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? So what are you waiting for? Set up diplomatic relations today!

A note of caution, however: While on the whole the Federal Republic is a relatively civil, peaceful nation, our capital, Paradise City (motto: "Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty"), is a veritable cesspit of crime, violence and corruption. The Mafia is firmly in control here. Dueling gangs are perpetually locked in combat on our fair streets (and sometimes the violence spreads to outlying areas; it is those times that the UN officially classifies our nation as an "Anarchy"). Martial law is in effect sometimes for weeks at a time, explosions and gunfire are commonplace, and government officials and members of Congress must travel to work in armored vehicles. Even the penguins have guns. A few may also explode unexpectedly. Your ambassador will need a bullet-proof vest, and probably an armored vehicle of his own.

Also, be advised that our government is currently on an extended vacation on Tiki Taki, so if you want our president, Manuelo Fernanda (www.nswiki.net/index.php?title=Manuelo_Fernanda) ("the Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico"), to receive your ambassador, he (or she) will first have to fly to our newly acquired tropical hermitage for that purpose, then make his (or her) way to the Federal Republic to set up shop.

A few ground rules before we get started:

1. If by chance you happen to have established diplomatic relations with us before, you have to do it again. It's more fun that way.

2. If you're from my region, you automatically have relations with us, whether you like it or not. It's sorta like the UN; resolutions change your country's laws, whether you like it or not. But we will not be sending over an ambassador unless you respond to this thread.

3. Please tell us a little about the ambassador you're sending over, and we'll do the same in return. Also include details about anything unusual your diplomatic contingency will need while in our nation. Do try to put some creative RP energy in your replies to this thread. It's late, I'm stuck here at home, I'm bored, so entertain me, dammit!!

4. All nations who sign up for an embassy exchange get a mention on our wiki ambassadors list (www.nswiki.net/index.php?title=Ambassadors_to_and_from_Omigodtheykilledkenny), free of charge!

That said, welcome to the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny! We look forward to doing business with you. If you require any additional services, do not hesitate to contact our hospitality czar, Michelle, who is ready, willing and able to do anything to make your stay more comfortable. Anything. :D Sincerely,
Sammy Faisano
Secretary of State

(P.S. In case you haven't noticed, our country is wikified (www.nswiki.net/index.php?title=Omigodtheykilledkenny). Enjoy.)

*the American kind.

The Federal Republic currently recognizes 40 nations.

Diplomatic Service
Ambassadors from Omigodtheykilledkenny
Akimonad: Lindy Broemer
Allech-Atreus: Alex Tehrani
The Altan Steppes: Lt. Spence Beuerman
Ardchoille: Paradoasm Banofshon
Ariddian Isles: Gen. Cornelius Sherwood Forest
Ausserland: Fernando Fernanda
Bears Armed: Jake Neubauer
Brutland and Norden: Derek Logan
Cobdenia: Joor Muffler Man
Cookesland: Dillon Beinart
Domain of Kei: Missy Aguilera
Douria: Vince "Steel Rim" Cablosi
Ecopoeia: Jack Edward and Tyler Bradley
The Eternal Kawaii: Shirley Jackson
The Gnomish Warbands: Blenda
Gruenberg: Angela Heimann-Weisenstrauss, Ph.D.
HeathenHaven: Frau Gratwick
Hou Mian: Hamid Aziz
HotRodia: Kermit
Karmicaria: Mark Reyes
Kivisto: Abe DeGuzman
Krioval: Barbra Heisman
Lady Deathstrike: Fritz Conway
Lois-Must-Die: some girl
Love and esterel: Janet Kaczmarek
Mer des Ennuis: "Strong Thrust-mond"
The Palentine: Susannah Batko-Yovino
Philimbesi: Mosheh Oinounou
Rubina: George Brown
Sarzonia: Former President Jim Grady
Snefaldia: Tigre Soto
Teruchev: Brendan Aragon
United Earthlings: Cuauhtémoc Rodriguez
Urgench: Gorbie
Van Luxemburg: Eric Marson
Venerable libertarians: "the suit"
Vista Buena: Jann Christensen
The Wolf Guardians: Tom Margera
Xirnium: Jessie McArthur
Zarquon Froods: Erica Dolittle

Diplomatic Corps
Ambassadors to Omigodtheykilledkenny
Akimonad: Stanislaw Blix
Allech-Atreus: Abigail Frederlund
The Altan Steppes: Matt Hooper and Merina d'Val
Ardchoille: Raewenna Dhurigh
Ariddian Isles: Dr. Jane Ranomezanjanahary-Souvanhnavongsa-Fincfeuiaki
Ausserland: Zinnia Xanthippe Yossarian
Bears Armed: Gunnar Haraldsson o Thuleann
Brutland and Norden: Kyle di Fontana
Cobdenia: Dame Elizabeth FitzHerbert DeVille Cutler-Newington, DCRC
Cookesland: Cassius Shoveler
Domain of Kei: Col. Ryoko
Douria: Lucille Wild
Ecopoeia: Vesal Somayyeh and Kenneth Donleavy
The Eternal Kawaii: Cultural Affairs Attaché
The Gnomish Warbands: Gunther Kornweasel
Gruenberg: Moltan Bausch
HeathenHaven: Baron(ess) Helga Von Braunswieger
Hou Mian: Mao Qiguai
HotRodia: "Jim's cousin"
Karmicaria: Casandra Chase
Kivisto: Paavo Haiti
Krioval: Lady Sara Trekal
Lady Deathstrike: Kahlan
Lois-Must-Die: Gen. Belinda Merktel
Love and esterel: Martin Ruptcor
Mer des Ennuis: Wilhelm "Trogdor" Kornel
The Palentine: Franco Rocky Sulla
Philimbesi: Garick Hidelburnen
Rubina: Deepak Schönnig
Sarzonia: Grant Haffner
Snefaldia: Astár Sárdavär
Teruchev: Alphonse B. Egbert
United Earthlings: Larry Spearhead
Urgench: Prince Ariq Urbal
Van Luxemburg: Brigitte Schulte
Venerable libertarians: Baron Henry Rothsfor
Vista Buena: Matthew Christiaan Abercrombie
The Wolf Guardians: Wolfe 365
Xirnium: "My Fair Lady"
Zarquon Froods: Clyde Flimthrop

I have been authorized to advise the honorable Secretary of State of Omigodtheykilledkenny that Ausserland is most desirous of establishing an embassy in your fine nation. We are, however, having a bit of troble finding a member of our diplomatic corps willing to serve as ambassador. We're sure this is just a temporary problem. We will advise you of further developments.

Lorelei M. Ahlmann
Ambassador-at-Large

We are pleased to announce that the Prince of Ausserland has designated the Honorable Zinnia Xanthippe Yossarian to serve as our nation's Ambassador to The Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny. We believe that Ambassador-Designate Yossarian is eminently qualified to serve in this position, having resigned from military service last year after serving as Deputy Commander of the Special Operations Battalion, Army of Ausserland. She has taken special care to equip herself for life in the climatic and sociocultural environment of Paradise City.

Ambassador Yossarian is prepared to present her credentials to the President of The Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny at his pleasure. We look forward to welcoming the Ambassador of The Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny to our capital city, Hauptstadt.

For your information, A picture of Ambassador-Designate Yossarian may be seen here:

http://www.vguild.hostrocket.com/OMGTKK_Ambassador.html

Patrick T. Olembe
Minister for Foreign Affairs

The gentle Pacific waves crashed against the sandy shores of Tiki Taki as the president, still soaking up the sun during another lazy beach-lounging session, stood up in his luau shorts to receive the Ausserlander ambassador's credentials. He studied the well-built former military woman standing before him. Sure, she was buff, but he could probably still take her. If she was unarmed.

He noted the gun she brandished unapologetically. "You come prepared," he said; "I like that."

His personal secretary's voice seemed to rise out of the distant sounds of the natives' music being played for him: "I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. President, but your brother Fernando was arrested in Basin City last night."

"Again?" the president fumed. "What's the charge this time?"

"Car theft," she replied. "Again."

He sighed. "What kind of car was it?"

"An '03 Mustang. White."

"Not even a GT? Man, if he's gonna be going around stealing cars, he might as well steal some nice ones. ... How'd they catch him?"

"He was cruising down Vendor Avenue with the car alarm still going, and the custom horn stuck playing 'La Cucaracha' over and over again."

The Destructor rolled his eyes. "He never was the sharpest tool in the shed. He's been a distraction from my job since day one: always causing trouble, always needing me to bail him out. I've been trying to get him to turn his life around for years. Nothing has worked: not yelling at him, not beating him up, not threatening him, not giving him a wedgie, not even tying him up."

He looked off thoughtfully. "What this kid needs is a total change of scenery. To get away from his former troublemaking life."

He turned to the ambassador, standing by aloofly. "Say, Ambassador Yossarian, how's the weather in Ausserland?"

LOL! :p

IC:

Merkar Republic Dept. of Foreign Affairs

The Merkar Republic normally does not allow embassies on its soil for fear of foreign intelligence operatives using them as bases of operations. However, we sufficiently trust Ohmygodtheykilledkenny to allow them to build an embassy in our capital, Republic City, at the location of their choice. In addition, we wish to supply an ambassador to staff our embassy in your country.

http://www.bryanshulkpage.com/Images/s20007.jpg

Our ex-minister-of-the-interior, sadly, has recently recieved a large dose of excess radiation after piloting his hovercar into a fusion reactor over a $5 bet and ten bottles of Budweiser. After several uncontrolled outbursts during cabinet meetings, during which he caused significant damage to several government offices. However, we believe he is an excellent person to staff and defend our embassy in Ohmygodtheykilledkenny.

Best Wishes,

(the signature of some crappy part-time government worker)

Habardia is very willing to establish diplomatic relations with Ohmygodtheykilledkenny. Our proposed Ambassadeur is Sir Horace Musgrave, Second Baron Musgrave.

In addition, we wish to supply an ambassador to staff our embassy in your country.Debbie woke the president from his naptime on the beach to receive the Athiesistic ambassador.

The president turned to face the new representative and nearly fell off his beach chair. "They keep coming bigger and more terrifying!" he marveled.

"Yes, sir," Debbie replied.

"I think they're trying to intimidate me!"

"Yes, sir."

"And it's working."

"Actually, sir, I think the trick is to intimidate the Paradise City rebels."

"Oh, good. Bringing in a bunch of brutish ambassadors to scare off the riffraff, eh? That's an excellent idea, and I'm glad I thought of it!"

"Whatever, sir."

The president looked over the Athiesist ex-minister more closely. "He looks like Homer Simpson (http://yhspatriot.yorktown.arlington.k12.va.us/~jschild/images/homer_hulk.jpg) from that 'Angry Dad' episode," he snickered. "So, anyway, who are we sending to Athiesism in return?"

"Well, Mr. President, Cleveland Powell donated one and a half million dollars to your last campaign ..."

"Mr. Powell? He's like 89!"

"No, sir, his blusing bride Cindy, the golddigger; she wants the post." She leaned in to whisper, "I'm pretty sure she wants to get away from him."

"What did that one and a half mil pay for again?"

"The attacks ads, sir."

"Ah, yes. The 'Sen. Thorne kicks puppies!' spots! Those were very effective."

The Destructor glanced at Cindy's photo (http://elisha.primenova.com/maxim/photo_020.jpg) from the illegally obtained FBI file on her.

"Whoa! Why ain't she ambassador to Tiki Taki? I'd receive her in a second!"

"Mr. President?"

"Yes, well, I'm not comfortable sending one of our finest citizens to some unknown country."

"The thing is, sir, we lack anyone else to send, and she is willing to go."

He groaned. "Very well, then. Send her off. We'll intimidate the Athiesists in our own way! Heh-heh-heh."

[OOC: I'll get to receiving the Habardian ambassador later. :p]

The gentle Pacific waves crashed against the sandy shores of Tiki Taki as the president, still soaking up the sun during another lazy beach-lounging session, stood up in his luau shorts to receive the Ausserlander ambassador's credentials. He studied the well-built former military woman standing before him. Sure, she was buff, but he could probably still take her. If she was unarmed.

He noted the gun she brandished unapologetically. "You come prepared," he said; "I like that."

His personal secretary's voice seemed to rise out of the distant sounds of the natives' music being played for him: "I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. President, but your brother Fernando was arrested in Basin City last night."

"Again?" the president fumed. "What's the charge this time?"

"Car theft," she replied. "Again."

He sighed. "What kind of car was it?"

"An '03 Mustang. White."

"Not even a GT? Man, if he's gonna be going around stealing cars, he might as well steal some nice ones. ... How'd they catch him?"

"He was cruising down Vendor Avenue with the car alarm still going, and the custom horn stuck playing 'La Cucaracha' over and over again."

The Destructor rolled his eyes. "He never was the sharpest tool in the shed. He's been a distraction from my job since day one: always causing trouble, always needing me to bail him out. I've been trying to get him to turn his life around for years. Nothing has worked: not yelling at him, not beating him up, not threatening him, not giving him a wedgie, not even tying him up."

He looked off thoughtfully. "What this kid needs is a total change of scenery. To get away from his former troublemaking life."

He turned to the ambassador, standing by aloofly. "Say, Ambassador Yossarian, how's the weather in Ausserland?"

"Oh, our weather's quite nice, Mr. President," the Ambassador replied. "It gets pretty cool in the north, but Haupstadt's weather is very temperate. And parts of Zhaladmard Province are actually sub-tropical. Some nice beaches down there."

"And your brother would be quite acceptable to us as your ambassador. The Hauptstadt District Constabulary is very good at it's job." She paused a moment, then grinned. "We'll be happy to baby-sit him for you."

"Excuse me Sir.", the rather pugnatious high pitched voice said. President Fernanda looked away from the Ausserland Ambassador, and started to look around from his chair for the source of the voice.

"Down here, Mate!" the pugnatious voice continued.

President Fernanda looked down and saw the 3' tall Gnome standing before him. The gnome was wearing a studded leather brigadine, a chain mail coif and steel helm,leather gauntlets,plate greaves, and hob-nailed leather boots. At his belt was a wicked looking handaxe, and in his boot was a dirk. He was smoking a vile cigar.

"Nice digs ya got here Mate! the scenery ain't too bad either!" The gnome looked approvingly at the Asserland ambassador. I would have gotten here sooner, but one of those dumb tall Tiki Tiki warrior types made some short jokes in my presence so I hadda use his scrotal sac as a speedbag!", THe Gnome continued, "Anyway, my name is Gunther Kornweasel, my brother is the Gnomish Thain Thadbroxton Kornweasel III, and he asked me to be the ambassador of the Kingdom of The Gnomish Warbands, to the Federal Republic of Ohmigodtheykilledkenny." The Gnome paused, puffed on his cigar, and then motioned to the Ausserland Ambassador and said,
"For a reciprical ambassador to us, if you gots more like that one, then we'd be satified. Us Gnomes likes tall women."

Habardia is very willing to establish diplomatic relations with Ohmygodtheykilledkenny. Our proposed Ambassadeur is Sir Horace Musgrave, Second Baron Musgrave.Given your government's rather terse announcement, we are sad to say we know next to nothing about this man you have sent to represent your interests, but we are flattered your nation is willing to send nobility to our fair shores, so he's in. We have no blue bloods in our country to speak of, but we do have the next best thing: Abe Frohman, the Sausage King of Chicago, who will speak on our behalf in Habardia.

Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

OOC: Roflmfao!!!:p :D

Will post later. Keep up the funny.;)

"For a reciprical ambassador to us, if you gots more like that one, then we'd be satified. Us Gnomes likes tall women.""Ahh, so it's tall women you're after, huh?" replied Fernanda. "I hope this one (www.andruschak.net/image/amazon1.jpg) will do. This is Blenda. She enjoys snusnu."

"Ahh, so it's tall women you're after, huh?" replied Fernanda. "I hope this one (www.andruschak.net/image/amazon1.jpg) will do. This is Blenda. She enjoys snusnu."
OOC: ROFLMFAO!!!! Sorry, had too, I loved that episode. :p

Given your government's rather terse announcement, we are sad to say we know next to nothing about this man you have sent to represent your interests, but we are flattered your nation is willing to send nobility to our fair shores, so he's in. We have no blue bloods in our country to speak of, but we do have the next best thing: Abe Frohman, the Sausage King of Chicago, who will speak on our behalf in Habardia.

Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State
Dear friend,

If I was "terse" it was only a matter of practicality. I do indeed intend to discuss the finer details of this relations with more patience. However, I do believe that a short reply is best when an offer is being extended. After it is accepted one may stop and talk things over calmly, but perhaps those are just Habardian ways. Anyway, as I said I do intend to discuss all the intricacies of this. Mr. Frohman will be established in Castle Fjorland, the newly dedicated Diplomatic Palace of Habardia, to the south of our Capital City, Imadia. His security will be guaranteed by the Habardian Guard, yet if so desired he may bring his own detail with him. Under one condition that is. The Holy Office of the Habardian Inquisition condemned the use of gunpowder and explosives a long time ago, so those cannot be brought into the country. And of course we send you nobility, we would not dream of sending a peasant to represent the Ducal Crown anywhere. Now my friend, I would like to know the accomodations prepared for Lord Musgrave.

Sincerely,

Sir Geoffrey Damard, Sixth Baron Woldrock, OHR, KDR,
Foreign Policy Advisor to His Grace the Duke Habard,
Habardian Diplomat and Representative to the NSUN

Given your government's rather terse announcement, we are sad to say we know next to nothing about this man you have sent to represent your interests, but we are flattered your nation is willing to send nobility to our fair shores, so he's in. We have no blue bloods in our country to speak of, but we do have the next best thing: Abe Frohman, the Sausage King of Chicago, who will speak on our behalf in Habardia.

Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State
Dear friend,

If I was "terse" it was only a matter of practicality. I do indeed intend to discuss the finer details of this relations with more patience. However, I do believe that a short reply is best when an offer isbeing extended. After it is accepted one may stop and talk things over calmly, but perhaps those are just Habardian ways. Anyway, as I said I do intend to discuss all the intricacies of this. Mr. Frohman will be established in Castle Fjorland, the newly dedicated Diplomatic Palace of Habardia, to the south of our Capital City, Imadia. His security will be guaranteed by the Habardian Guard, yet if so desired he may bring his own detail with him. Under one condition that is. The Holy Office of the Holy Habardian Inquisition condemned the use of gunpowder and explosives a long time ago, so those cannot be brought into the country. And of course we send you nobility, we would not dream of sending a peasant to represent the Ducal Crown anywhere. Now my friend, I would like to know the accomodations prepared for Lord Musgrave.

Sincerely,

Sir Geoffrey Damard, Sixth Baron Woldrock, OHR, KDR,
Foreign Policy Advisor to His Grace the Duke Habard,
Habardian Diplomat and Representative to the NSUN

Now my friend, I would like to know the accomodations prepared for Lord Musgrave.Well, Baron, your ambassador may choose from three, yes, three exotic and historic locales within our Federal Republic in which to set up shop! First, let's take a peek behind Door #1!: The Indomitable Fortress of Avilla the Hun!!! Your ambassadaor, his diplomatic detail and a guest will spend three glorious years in the barracks of the notorious ancient penguin lord, who in the 9th century became so consumed by his own paranoia he actually built a stories-high ice pavilion from which to wage the imminent battle against the human oppressors (who wouldn't arrive for another millennium)!

Or, Ambassador Musgrave can pass that up for what's behind Door #2!!: An extended stay at the luxurious Palestinian Hotel!! The former hotspot for the world's rich and famous includes a friendly and curteous staff, room service, a (frozen) family-size pool, jacuzzis, a day spa, and a water park (when it's in season, which is never)! Journalists, diplomats and foreign dignitaries used to take solace here while visiting our fair republic, that is, until the Lois-Must-Die War of 2000, when a beauty pageant gone terribly, terribly wrong claimed the lives of five shallow beauty queens advocating "world peace" and six yapper dogs named Fifi. This haunted hotel can be yours, if the price is right!

Now, Ambassador Musgrave, you have a decision to make: You can go home right now with one of these two showcases, all the fabulous prizes you've won already, some wonderful parting gifts, and diplomatic immunity, or you can trade it all in for what's behind the Mystery Door!!!

[Audience bursts into a chorus of 'oooooooooo!' as a curtain raises to reveal the Mystery Door, adorned with a glittering question mark.]

Now Ambassador Musgrave, what's it gonna be??

[Audience members begin the shout out the choice they think the ambassador should take.] ...

Well, Baron, your ambassador may choose from three, yes, three exotic and historic locales within our Federal Republic in which to set up shop! First, let's take a peek behind Door #1!: The Indomitable Fortress of Avilla the Hun!!! Your ambassadaor, his diplomatic detail and a guest will spend three glorious years in the barracks of the notorious ancient penguin lord, who in the 9th century became so consumed by his own paranoia he actually built a stories-high ice pavilion from which to wage the imminent battle against the human oppressors (who wouldn't arrive for another millennium)!

Or, Ambassador Musgrave can pass that up for what's behind Door #2!!: The Palestinian Hotel, where the world's rich and famous used to converge! Journalists, diplomats and foreign dignitaries used to take solace here while visiting our fair republic, that is, until the Lois-Must-Die War of 2000, when a beauty pageant gone terribly, terribly wrong claimed the lives of five shallow beauty queens and six yapper dogs named Fifi. This haunted hotel can be yours, if the price is right!

Now, Ambassador Musgrave, you have a decision to make: You can go home right now with one of these two choices, all the fabulous prizes you've won already, some wonderful parting gifts, and diplomatic immunity, or you can trade it all in right now for what's behind the Mystery Door!!!

[Audience bursts into a chorus of 'oooooooooo!' as a curtain raises to reveal the Mystery Door, adorned with a glittering question mark.]

Now Ambassador Musgrave, what's it gonna be??

[Audience members begin the shout out the choice they think the ambassador should take.] ...


:D :D OCC. "Now thats funny, I don't care who you are. If you can't laugh at that, then somethings wrong with you."
-Larry the Cable Guy:D

From:
The Federated Klatchian Coast
Foreign Ministry

It has come to our attention that due to the Antartic summer occuring during the Artic winter that many of our more northerly citizens may find traveling to your land rather pleasent and to avoid the deep deep deep cold for the only really deep cold. In order to help facilitate our traveling citizens, it is seen that we should establish a consulate in the nation of OhmygodtheykilledKenny to help facilitate the occassional Walrus need.

As such we would like to establish a Class D consulate in said nation. Presently we are going to assign Amy Mackavoy, a fifth year junior from the Lemignton City College, LCC.

Miss. Mackavoy (http://us.ent4.yimg.com/movies.yahoo.com/images/hv/photo/movie_pix/artisan_entertainment/national_lampoon_s_van_wilder/tara_reid/wilderpre.jpg) was found doing something rather undignified activities with the boyfreind of Elizabeth Crawford (http://images.usatoday.com/life/_photos/2005/06/29/keira-as-domino.jpg), Markgravine of Both. Obviously the Markgravine did not take such activity well when she discovered them in her bed.

To help difuse the situation, the Markgravine's uncle (The Foreign Minister of the Klatch) has decided that Miss Mackavoy should begin a career abroad before anything horribly disfiguring can occur to her.

Y.R.U. Hare
Class D Envoy Specialist
Reassignment Section,
Foregin Ministry

(Please send all correspondance to 129D Belfair Lane, Port Olympus
Office Hours are from 6:00-7:00 on the third Friday of every month that is the 13th with two full moons of prime numbered years)

"Ahh, so it's tall women you're after, huh?" replied Fernanda. "I hope this one (www.andruschak.net/image/amazon1.jpg) will do. This is Blenda. She enjoys snusnu."

The gnome took a drag from his cigar and sighed lustily,"Yes Bossman, she'll do just fine!"

Marion sat folded in a chair in Rosalind's office, a glass of Black Wine in her hand and her characteristic grin on her face.

"You want me to go where?"

"Marion you are going."

"I can't go. You can't send me. I'm not a politician Rosalind. I don't even know where this place is."

"Marion you are going."

"Good god Rosalind. Who the hell do you think I am? I don't work for you… I'm family… you can't do this…"

"Shut up Marion."

When Rosalind left she turned to her secretary.

"Contact the people from Omigodtheykilledkenny. Tell them I'm sending my sister."

"Marion? Should I let Rose know?"

"Not until she gets into trouble."

Well, Baron, your ambassador may choose from three, yes, three exotic and historic locales within our Federal Republic in which to set up shop! First, let's take a peek behind Door #1!: The Indomitable Fortress of Avilla the Hun!!! Your ambassadaor, his diplomatic detail and a guest will spend three glorious years in the barracks of the notorious ancient penguin lord, who in the 9th century became so consumed by his own paranoia he actually built a stories-high ice pavilion from which to wage the imminent battle against the human oppressors (who wouldn't arrive for another millennium)!

Or, Ambassador Musgrave can pass that up for what's behind Door #2!!: An extended stay at the luxurious Palestinian Hotel!! The former hotspot for the world's rich and famous includes a friendly and curteous staff, room service, a (frozen) family-size pool, jacuzzis, a day spa, and a water park (when it's in season, which is never)! Journalists, diplomats and foreign dignitaries used to take solace here while visiting our fair republic, that is, until the Lois-Must-Die War of 2000, when a beauty pageant gone terribly, terribly wrong claimed the lives of five shallow beauty queens advocating "world peace" and six yapper dogs named Fifi. This haunted hotel can be yours, if the price is right!

Now, Ambassador Musgrave, you have a decision to make: You can go home right now with one of these two showcases, all the fabulous prizes you've won already, some wonderful parting gifts, and diplomatic immunity, or you can trade it all in right now for what's behind the Mystery Door!!!

[Audience bursts into a chorus of 'oooooooooo!' as a curtain raises to reveal the Mystery Door, adorned with a glittering question mark.]

Now Ambassador Musgrave, what's it gonna be??

[Audience members begin the shout out the choice they think the ambassador should take.] ...
OOC While I find this break-a-rib hilarious (and im not joking this made me crack up) I really dont know how to continue with the RP so I'll just wing it..

IC Well, said Lord Musgrave. I'll send a servant to look behind the mystery door.

[OOC: I had a reply all ready to post for Alcona and Hubris, but since the personage of their ambassador-designate has changed since I last read their post, receiving their ambassador will have to wait. :)]

"Contact the people from Omigodtheykilledkenny. Tell them I'm sending my sister."The president emerged from his hut to examine the nervous woman who had just arrived on Tiki Taki to present her credentials as the ambassador from the Black New World. Seagulls cried overhead and the worshipful natives wouldn't stop playing that damn music.

"Mmmmm," he intoned. "Ain't nothin' hotter than lesbian royalty!"

Debbie rolled her eyes. "We have our ambassador-designate to Rosalind's court all lined up and ready to go, sir."

"Who're we sending?"

"Some 'royalty' of our own, sir. This is Princess Jasmine." She handed the Destructor a dossier on the diplomat. "She's a performer who wants to go into politics."

He grabbed the photo included with the packet. "She's kinda hot!" he observed.

"Mr. President, 'she' is a man." She gave him a sly smile.

He shuddered audibly as the photo slipped from his fingers; he thrust the dossier back at his secretary in disgust. "I guess she'll do. At least she's going, not coming."

"Yes, sir." Debbie replied, still smiling. She turned to Marion. "Your Highness, let me know if you'll need anything at all before your flight to our nation."

Well, said Lord Musgrave. I'll send a servant to look behind the mystery door."Trust, but verify." I like that. Welcome to the Federal Republic, ambassador. We'll be happy to put you up in the Palestinian Hotel. No yapper dogs, though. We never said the LMD War incident was an accident.

Ambassador Yossarian was standing at the edge of the group. "Oh, Mr. President!" she called, waving her sawed-off shotgun in the air to get his attention. It worked. (Waving a sawed-off shotgun usually does get people's attention.) "While I'm here, I'd like to present the two members of the embassy's senior staff."

There were two more dwarves standing near the Ambassador. One was a rather shapely young woman in a green uniform, carrying some sort of folding-stock assault rifle. ("Young" is used loosely here. Given the life expectancy of dwarves, she was probably older than anyone else in the crowd.) The other was a male dwarf. He was rather... well... Let's just say that people seemed to be reluctant to stand too close to him.

"May I present Lieutenant Colonel Chintana Maprang, our Military Attache." The woman in uniform snapped a quick salute, not bothering to remove the cigarette dangling from her lips. "And this", the Ambassador continued, "is Mr. Nikodemos Genovelis. He'll be serving as our Cultural Attache". The male dwarf nodded and scratched his rather considerable nose.

Pictures of the Ambassador and the senior staff members are here:

Ambassador and Staff (http://www.vguild.hostrocket.com/OMGTKK_Ambassador.html)

"Let me get this straight," begged the Co-President of Ardchoille. "Point One, you're dead. Point Two, you're not an Ardchoillean citizen. Point Three, you want to represent us in some bizarre nation called Omigodtheykilledkenny."

The little old lady perching uncomfortably on a stool in the Strangers' Bar nodded enthusiastically. The stool did a slight spin.

"All the Findhornians I've met have been a little ... different," Dicey Riley continued, "but never as different as this. What are you up to?"

"I'm trying to make the stool spin faster." The little old lady was waving her arms about, not an unusual sight in the Strangers' Bar, but disturbing to nearby drinkers who had to avoid her knitting-needles.

"Well, don't. Stop it. I refuse to have diplomatic discussions with a ... a twirling teapot!"

"You're just jealous. This nice boy never made you a pot of Earl Grey with his own fair hands, did you, sweetie," the LOL said, blowing a kiss at the blushing barman. "And if by 'teapot' you're referring to my comfy figure, let me tell you, lovey, it's what we all come to in the end, unless you're one of the bony ones, and personally, there's many a man wouldn't mind getting his arms around as much of me as he could."

"I, er, think I was referring to your beanie," Dicey said, abashed.

"My grand-daughter crocheted it for me," the old woman said proudly, sweeping the virulent rainbow from her head to admire it more closely. "She went round every croft on the island cadging their wool scraps. But she's all right, it's not about her I'm here, it's my grandson, Ruari Dhurigh. I'm Raewenna Dhurigh, by the way, but you can call me Granny, everyone else does."

"Thank you," said Dicey, politely. "I'm Dicey. Now, look, about your grandson, what's he got to do with appointing you ambassador?"

"Well, he's a very powerful necromancer, for all he's just thirteen," the departed grandmother boasted. "But untrained, you see. He raised me, but he doesn't know how to send me back. And they've choofed him off to this school, then."

"A necromancy school?" Dicey was shocked. Ardchoilleans, though well endowed with magic powers, never, ever tampered with the Dark Side.

"Well, somebody's got to do it," the old one said, reasonably. "How else are you going to track down murderers, if you can't raise their victims? 'Course, raising me was just a mistake any beginner could make, I wan't murdered at all, but I can't go back where I belong until he gets to the right chapter. And he won't do that until he's in Second Year. You can't expect me to hang around a school until then! Besides, I might cramp his style with this young vampire he's romancing. So I thought, well, I may as well find myself something useful to do. And, being as how Ardchoille is Family, I would have thought you'd be pleased to help me out."

Pinned by two beady black eyes, Dicey found herself agreeing that yes, of course, Family members should help each other out. Despite Ardchoille's being the Lost Colony of Findhorn, she'd never actually considered herself related to that quirky little island, but, well, clan was clan ...

"Why Omigodtheykilledkenny, though? What's in it for Ardchoille?" she protested, struggling to gather her scattered wits.

"It's got a nice climate," Granny Dhurigh said. "Cute fauna. Interesting people. And if I'm tucked away being diplomatic there, I won't be bothering you here, will I?"

"That is undoubtedly a very persuasive argument."

_____________________________________________________

The letter, when unfolded from its paper-plane shape, was short, but the official coat of arms embossed on the paper -- and the security microchip embedded in it -- spoke for its authenticity: "The Free Land of Ardchoille wishes to introduce Mrs Raewenna Dhurigh, who has agreed to serve as our Ambassador to the nation of Omigodtheykilledkenny. If the appointment is acceptable to your government we would be happy to accept a reciprocal appointment. Yours most sincerely, Dicey Riley, Co-President."

It was fortunate that the letter looked so authentic. The bearer, a woman of advanced years accompanied by a green tapestry Gladstone bag, a motheaten goat and a tangle of fuzzy tan wool with two needles sticking out of it, did not.

"Princess Jasmine, your Majesty." Rosalind's secretary said with a great deal of restraint.

"So William were do you propose we keep our Princess."

"I would suggest, if you do not feel that any of the apartments we have in the capital are appropriate, Lord Geoffrey has some property which is going to waist."

"The manor?"

"I was thinking one of the cottages by home farm may be more appropriate. We could supply a small staff."

"Pick a nice sized one. Make sure it's in good working order," she took one last look at the dispatch from Omigodtheykilledkenny, "and William, send Marion with a bodyguard."


"Yes Majesty."

The Large man walked up to President Manuela's pavillion. He was 6'5" tall and a muscular 240lbs. His black hair was cut in a crew cut,and his nose seemed to have been broken a few times. He was wearing a #58 Jack Lambert Steeler jersey. In his right hand was a Primanti Bros(tm) Sammich, and in his left hand was a five-pack of Iron City Beer(tm). He walked up to the president and said,
" So your the big cheese around here an'at. glad ta meetcha. I'm Franco Rocky Sulla, the Ambassador from the Evil Conservative Empire of the Palentine." he looked around and then said,"Yunz know this would be a great place to hold a Donnie Iris or The Clarks concert an'at, Oh yeah Heres my letter of recommendation." He put the five pack down and took a letter from his back pocket.

THe letter read,

Dear President Fernanda,
Greetings and salutations old boy, hope you are well, although us boxing fans are waiting for the Destructer to return to the ring. boxing hasn't been as good since you retired. Anyway this is my brother. He was a Star linebacker(Mean Frank) of the Burgh Defenestrators, in the Palentine Combat Football League, until he had one helmetless tackle too many if you get my drift. He needs a change of career so I thought, Hell lets make him a diplomat. What better place to learn the fine art of diplomacy than the Nation that spawned such a diplomatic genius as my esteemed collegue Ambassador Riley. He's a good boy, but ocassionally has flashbacks, and when that happens he usually tackels or sacks somebody, but he means no harm, and with medication should be less and less frequent. Don't worry on your part, I told him you were the head coach and would bench him if he caused you grief.
Excelsior,
Sen Horatio Sulla

The large man stood by drinking a beer and looking expectantly.

Anyway this is my brother. He was a Star linebacker(Mean Frank) of the Burgh Defenestrators, in the Palentine Combat Football League, until he had one helmetless tackle too many if you get my drift. He needs a change of career so I thought, Hell lets make him a diplomat. What better place to learn the fine art of diplomacy than the Nation that spawned such a diplomatic genius as my esteemed collegue Ambassador Riley.President Fernanda eyed the former linebacker presented to him as ambassador for the Federal Republic's long friend, neighbor and ally, The Palentine. He liked him. This Rocky Sulla still had many loyal fans in the Federal Republic.

He turned to his secretary of state, who had arrived to assist in receiving all the foreign embassies who had applied. "It seems everyone has a brother or sister to send to us," the Destructor noted.

"Yes, Mr. President. Nepotism is rampant, and not only in our government." Sec. Tehrani rolled his eyes. "By the way: I know you want to strengthen your relationship with our diplomatic corps, but did you really have to hold an hours-long 'private conference' in your hut with the ambassador-designate to Atheisism?"

The president giggled boastingly. "Yeah. ...

"Speaking of brothers, how's Fernando faring?"

"He's finally accepted his fate and settled in, Mr. President."

"Good," Fernanda replied. "If only he had gone willingly to start with! Still, I think handcuffing him to airplane seat was kinda extreme."

"Yes, sir. ... Now, as to our representative to the Palentine ... Steve Sax wants an appointment."

"My millionaire former campaign financier?"

"Yes, sir. The one who bought up all the rights to those embarrassing outtakes from 'The Contender.' Y'know, the ones where you said, 'I hated everything Hitler did, but you gotta admit, the man had style'? ..."

"I know what I said!" the president interrupted him, annoyed.

"Well, now he wants something in return."

"Whatever." Fernanda turned to Sulla, who had been watching their exchange bemusedly. "Mr. Sulla, I know you'll feel quite welcome in our country; our people still love you. It's a shame about your retirement. ... Well, enjoy your flight; in the meantime, Alex and I'll take a couple of those beers off your hands, if you don't mind."

[OOC: More replies to come.]

Miss. Mackavoy (http://us.ent4.yimg.com/movies.yahoo.com/images/hv/photo/movie_pix/artisan_entertainment/national_lampoon_s_van_wilder/tara_reid/wilderpre.jpg) was found doing something rather undignified activities with the boyfreind of Elizabeth Crawford (http://images.usatoday.com/life/_photos/2005/06/29/keira-as-domino.jpg), Markgravine of Both. Obviously the Markgravine did not take such activity well when she discovered them in her bed.

To help difuse the situation, the Markgravine's uncle (The Foreign Minister of the Klatch) has decided that Miss Mackavoy should begin a career abroad before anything horribly disfiguring can occur to her.The president could not stop snickering as he emerged from his hut with the secretary of state. He had just sat through a briefing on the Alcona and Hubris situation in which the words "tramp" and "slut" had been tossed around liberally.

Fernanda tried in vain to compose himself as he introduced himself to the Alconian ambassador. "I hope you enjoy your stay in the Federal Republic," he said. "I'm sure you'll be very ... popular there." He choked on restrained laughter.

"That's not funny, Mr. President," Tehrani advised, just before both of them burst out laughing, Fernanda falling into the secretary's shoulder.

The president recovered first. "Well, who do we send them?"

"Tammy Reyes, the trashy hotel heiress, wants the nod in order to film a reality TV show in Alcona and Hubris."

The Destructor smiled satisfactorily. "Perfect."

Heilsa,
I Queen Aislinn of HeathenHaven do hereby accept Ohmigodtheykilledkenny's offer of diplomacy.
The Baroness (somtimes baron) Helga Von Braunswieger ( http://members.petfinder.org/~NY71/Drag04_q3.jpg) wishes to learn of your culture and more fully develop her inner true redneck woman and has eagerly volunteered to serve as ambassador to your fine nation. We hope are therfore offically asking you to receive her (or him depending) and her/his entourage at your earliest convience. Here is their dossier.
http://www.pensierostupendosenigallia.net/Immagini/drag_queen.jpg
We have prepared a suite within the royal palace for the OHmigodstheykilledkenny's ambassador until such time as formal embassy can be built. Lady Heidi OffenShimmy has volunteered to be his liasion and cultural advisor and assit him in learning our language and matters of style and dress. This is her dossier
http://www.yolandabellydance.com/images/LuLuBackBendweb_belly%20dancer.jpg
He will well protected by the royal Valkyrie guards.
http://www.angeliqueandfriends.com/images/bellydancers/sisters_red_gold.jpg

Sincerly,
Queen Aislinn
of HeathenHaven

"Whatever." Fernanda turned to Sulla, who had been watching their exchange bemusedly. "Mr. Sulla, I know you'll feel quite welcome in our country; our people still love you. It's a shame about your retirement. ... Well, enjoy your flight; in the meantime, Alex and I'll take a couple of those beers off your hands, if you don't mind."

"Sure, no prob!" Rocky Sulla said to the two men as he handed them the beers. " I got a whole cooler full an'at"

Letter from the Governor General:


http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v335/JimRad-Mac/ns/CoAsmall.jpg
The Office of the Governor-General

Wednesday, the 19th of November, 1930
Saturday, the 19th of November, 2005

Your Excellency President Manuelo Fernanda of the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny and Secretary of State The Honourable Alex Tehrani,

His Excellency the Governor-General of Cobdenia wishes it to be known that we would be most interested in establishing diplomatic relations with your great nation, and hopes that such an arrangement will lead to enhanced co-operation between our two nations.
The Cobdenian Secretary of State for Foreign and Regional Affairs The Right Honourable Sir Rory Relp, Knight Comander of the Most Fantabulous Order of Richard Cobden, Member of the House of Advisors, has recommend that Elizabeth FitzHerbert DeVille Cutler-Newington, Companion of the Most Fantabulous Order of Richard Cobden, be sent as our Ambassador Extraordinaire and Plenipotentiary along with a complement of one hundred diplomatic and consular staff and one officer and six men of the Brigade of the Governor-General's Own Guards, as well as a security complement from the Diplomatic Protection Service of the Gubernatorial Police Force of Cobdenia.
The Governorate of Cobdenia expects that all diplomatic staff be granted full rights in accordance with the UN Resolution Number One Hundred and Twenty Seven, Diplomatic Immunity, and we assure Your Excellency that all diplomatic and consular staff of the Embassy of the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny will also be granted such rights.
Yours Sincerely,
C. Cholmondsey-Cholmondsey-Smythe
His Excellency Air Chief Marshall Sir Clive Cholmondsey-Cholmondsey-Smythe KCMG DFC, RAF
Governor-General of the Governorate of Cobdenia
Sir Rory Relp
The Right Honourable Sir Rory Relp, KCRC MHA
Secretary of State for Foreign and Regional Affairs of the Governorate of Cobdenia

Elizabeth Cutler-Newington's Resume, enclosed with the above letter:

http://www.lemague.net/illustre/IMG/jpg/Grace_Kelly.1.jpg

Name: Miss Elizabeth FitzHerbert DeVille Cutler-Newington, CRC
Date of Birth: 12th July 1903
Marital Status: Single
Height: 5'7"
Vital Statistics: 36-24-36
Profession: Civil Servant (Foreign and Regional Office)
Education:
-1907-1921 Riccardoton Girls School
-1921-1923 St. Hilda's College, Port Sir Richard University attaining a Double First in Sleeping Your Way to the Top
Career:
-1920-1923: Model with the Riccardoton Modelling Agency
-1924: Begins at the Cobdenian Foriegn Office as travel brouchure model
-1924: Promoted to Third Secretary (Consular)
-1926: Consul-General to Burroughs, Ecopoeia
-1928: Deputy Head of Mission to Freeburg, Freedonia (current position)

Other Pertainant Information:
-Member of the Cobdenian League of Nudists
-Awarded the Companion of the Most Fantabulous Order of Richard Cobden in 1926 for services to Foriegn Affairs. Will be promoted to Dame Commander if you accept her appointment.
-Currently Single (although having an non-exclusive affair with Rory Relp)
-Tends to go for well muscled men in positions of power

Heilsa,
I Queen Aislinn of HeathenHaven do hereby accept Ohmigodtheykilledkenny's offer of diplomacy.
The Baroness (somtimes baron) Helga Von Braunswieger ( http://members.petfinder.org/~NY71/Drag04_q3.jpg) wishes to learn of your culture and more fully develop her inner true redneck woman and has eagerly volunteered to serve as ambassador to your fine nation. We hope are therfore offically asking you to receive her (or him depending) and her/his entourage at your earliest convience. Here is their dossier.
http://www.pensierostupendosenigallia.net/Immagini/drag_queen.jpg
We have prepared a suite within the royal palace for the OHmigodstheykilledkenny's ambassador until such time as formal embassy can be built. Lady Heidi OffenShimmy has volunteered to be his liasion and cultural advisor and assit him in learning our language and matters of style and dress. This is her dossier
http://www.yolandabellydance.com/images/LuLuBackBendweb_belly%20dancer.jpg
He will well protected by the royal Valkyrie guards.
http://www.angeliqueandfriends.com/images/bellydancers/sisters_red_gold.jpg

Sincerly,
Queen Aislinn
of HeathenHaven

"Your Majesty I MUST protest! Heathenhaven cannot send Von Braunswieger" Lord Richenbacher minister of foreign placement exclaimed.
The queen shot him a deadly glance. Icily she relpied "You forget yourself Richenbacher, remember I only tolerate you because you are married to my brother and have children by my Aunt!" I will not send OffenShimmy to Ohmigodtheykilledkenny and that is final. Remember that last time I sent her into diplomatic service? She came back with triplets by 3 different fathers and nearly caused a civil war among the Senate of the isle of Evangelical?"
OffenShimmy smirked as she sipped her chilled wine, "well it's not like it was my fault they had never heard of sacred Rites of Freyr besides I was instructed to teach them our ways. I was only following orders"
"Oh your juth a democratic drawbridge!" Von Bruanswieger replied.
"Jealous!" OffenShimmy retorted.
"Oh hunny I'm more woman than you'll ever be!"
"Von Bruanswieger you're more woman than the entire female population of many countries!"
"Oh you bitch!" Von Braunsweiger spat as he bit into another chocolate donut.
Queen Aislinn raised her voice "ENOUGH both of you! My decision is final! Should Ohmigodstheykilledkenny accept our reply, Von Bruanswieger goes. "
As for you OffenShimmy, you are NOT I repeat NOT to show the sacred of Freyr to this foreigner! I don't need another incident like the last time!"
"But your majesty you told me to teach them our ways" Offenshimmy replied defensively
"That does NOT include sacred rites late at nite in the Hof!"
Lord Richenbacher broke in "Excuse me your Majesty, but what if they decline Von Bruanswieger?"
"I've already thought of that Richenbacher. I'll send BrynHildr she doesn't clown around indescreetly when it comes to foreign affairs"
http://www.carouselclowns.com.au/pictures/femaleclowns/f_clown1.jpg
"Um your majesty, couldn't you send Dvalin? He gets to the heart of things in short order."
http://www.santharia.com/tribes/dwarves/kurakim_dwarves.jpg

Cutler-Newington was sitting in her fairly well decorated office in Freeburg stamping the word "Rejected" on all the visa applications when her telephone rang

"Ahoy hoy?"

"Relp here, darling; we're recalling you to Port Sir Richard pending promotion"

"That's super, dear. I knew my posting here was coming to an end, but I expected at least another month"

"Well somethings come up, can you get on the next aeroplane?"

"Yes, I can, but what about my property?"

"We'll arrange to have it sent on to Omigodthey...I mean your next posting, assuming you are accepted, of course"

"Of course; I'll be back in Cobdenia tomorrow"

"Superb, see you then! Byee"

"Good bye"

She shuddered. No woman could have found Relp attractive, but she needed to keep the charade that she did if she was to keep on getting promoted. She leant down and opened one of the drawers of her oak desk and removed a picture of the one man she was attracted too, despite never meeting him. She had heared him on the wireless, and seen his picture in the newspaper, and that was enough. She was smitten.
'Please God send me to Omigodtheykilledkenny' she thought, going moist at the thought of meeting Manuelo.
After fifteen minutes of fantasising, she pulled herself to gether, put her clothes back on and 'phoned her maid and got her to pack some of her clothes and more personal effects for her, and her chauffer to bring the motorcar to the Embassy after picking up her luggage.

Three hours later she was on a Boeing 747 on its way to Port Sir Richard.

The new Cultural Attache from Ausserland walked over to the Ambassador from The Palatine, his submachine gun slung over his shoulder. He looked up--and up--at the big man.

"Hey, buddy! Got any more o' them Irons?" he asked. "Haven't had one o' them since the big bocce tournament in Munhall. That was... Geez, that was back when the bridge to nowhere still went nowhere."

[OOC: Only time for one tonight; fret ye not, Ardchoille and Cobdenia, I will respond! :cool:]

The Baroness (somtimes baron) Helga Von Braunswieger ( http://members.petfinder.org/~NY71/Drag04_q3.jpg) wishes to learn of your culture and more fully develop her inner true redneck woman and has eagerly volunteered to serve as ambassador to your fine nation. We hope are therfore offically asking you to receive her (or him depending) and her/his entourage at your earliest convience.The cool island breeze wafted into the hut from a window behind the Destructor as he sat at his desk, reviewing the information on incoming ambassadors-designate. His eyes gleamed with fury as he came upon the baroness's folder and her frightening dossier. "Debbie!!" he roared.

The woman apeared at the doorway in her usual cool demeanor, without a hint of startlement at the president's anger. She was one of the few people he knew who did not fear him. At all. "Yes, Mr. President?"

"Ever since the State Department decided to dispatch that ... that ... Princess Jasmine, nations are thinking we're some sort of drag-queen colony!" he bellowed.

"One nation sends a fabulous ambassador, and from that you assume everyone thinks we're a drag nation?" she asked.

"I just don't want other nations thinking we're ... you know ... fem."

"Sir?"

"Well, if HeathenHaven is gonna send us a gender-bender, we're gonna respond in kind!" declared the Destructor.

"And how do you intend to do that, sir?" asked Debbie, amused.

"I'm gonna send them the butchest woman they ever saw!" he vowed. "She'll show them what's what!" He rose to retrieve a file from a shelf hanging over his shoulder. He pulled out a photo and tossed it on the desk.

"I'm sending over Catherine Gratwick's sadistic identical second cousin Frau (http://img154.exs.cx/img154/3033/catherinegratwick3vk.jpg)," he said proudly.

"Mr. President," Debbie cut in, having to smile at the president's naivete. "Frau Gratwick isn't 'sent.' She won't go anywhere or do anything at the command of any man. She doesn't do anyone's bidding but her own."

"Well, what's she up to now?"

"She's a reseach scientist at a chemicals factory, studying the effects of harmful chemicals on cute little animals," she said. "She really enjoys her work."

"But what if we just sent a nondescript envelope with her credentials and tickets to HeathenHaven?" he asked. "Would she go on her own?"

"Maybe so, Mr. President," Debbie said intriguingly. "Assuming there are plenty of kittens and puppies in HeathenHaven for her to torture."

"Probably. Besides, who would turn down a cushy ambassador job?"

MoH Home Office
004 El Dorado Drive
HotRodia City, HotRodia

"We're getting really short on diplomats to send to other nations, Jim. I know you're in the process of training more, but we need someone now, and none of our trainees are ready."

Jim thought for a moment before replying. "My cousin from HotRodia II could take the job. He was one of the "Rebellious Youths" that stole the car stereos from all the UN Inspectors just because they hate the UN. He'll fit right in with the folks in the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny."

Sam shrugged. "That's good enough. I just hope there's some nice cars there so he won't get too bored. Send him out as soon as you can, Jim, and do make sure that he brings a few friends to round out his staff."


OOC: To apply for an embassy in HotRodia, see here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=443481).

Queen Aislinn sat at her desk reading the reply from Manuelo of Ohmigodtheykilledkenny. "Oh for love of Odhinn, I cannot assign OffenShimmy to this emmisary, this frau Chatwick! She'll bendover backwards for anything"
http://www.yolandabellydance.com/images/LuLuBackBendweb_belly%20dancer.jpg
envisioning yet another scandal involving lady OffenShimmy HRM called tossed Frau Chatwick's picture on the desk and called in her in her secretary. Lord Loki Weaselheimr http://freemasonry.bcy.ca/fiction/images/time_bandits.jpg
"Weaselheimer, tell von Braunswieger to pack immediately. Have a cargo ship readied to transport her within the hour and be sure to have security check her bags BEFORE she leaves. I don't want her to take all the obeo's and chocloates from the palace again!"
Lord Loki dry washing his hands replied in his rapid nasal voice "so that means that Ohmigodstheykilledkenny has accepted our Oh I mean your reply?"
"yes they have" sighed the queen
"you sound worried my queen what is the matter?"
"look at this" the queen replied as she pointed to Chatwicks picture on her desk.
"Oh My gods! Surely your majesty isn't going to assign Lady OffenShimmy as her cultural attache? Who could we get?"
Just then there was knock on the door at the door.
"Enter" the queen called out. It was Trell the Queen's errand runner
http://www.vampy.tv/storia/0880sjornselfless4.jpg
"Duh forgib me yer madestay, I brought yer meade to yas"
Just then Trell noticed the Chatwicks picture on the queen's desk. His heart skipped a beat, his breathe caught.
"Doooh yer Madesty, who is that bootiful lady! I have never seen teen such a tunning woman in all my life! I would do most anting to meet such a wonerfil wady" Trell exaclimed his voice full of wonder.
Lord Loki and the queen exchanged glances. Maybe there was hope after all.
"Why Trell you seem to facy this lady"
"Bahh don't youse go makin fun o da nice wady Ward Woki. Tee is a vibion of beeu-tay"
"Trell, you have served me very well all these years. I know that I can trust you implicitly."
"Der madesty know tee can trust me wid anyding"
"Well trell that is Frau Chatwick from a nation called Ohmigodstheykilledkenny. She will be coming here to live with us for a little while and serve as an ambassador. Trell, she has no freinds here and will need someone to teach her our ways. Would you like to serve as her escort?"
"OH BOY yer madesty! Wewally??!!?? OH Oh I would love to! I will be a prefect gentlmun to her! I will even serenade her wit odes to her lobliness!! Oh boy da woman of my dweems it comin here! oh goody!"
" You deserve a reward for all your hard work and loyalty to the crown Trell" the Queen replied beaming with satifaction. You may go now and prepare for Frau Chatwicks arrival."
"Tank youse to much you madesty!" Trell responded with glee and began to sing (if you could call it that) " I tod a cwush on you ..sweddie pie, all da day and nitetime tru!" as he closed the door behind him.
Lord Loki stood across the room laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face

[OOC: More replies to come.]

The president could not stop snickering as he emerged from his hut with the secretary of state. He had just sat through a briefing on the Alcona and Hubris situation in which the words "tramp" and "slut" had been tossed around liberally.

Fernanda tried in vain to compose himself as he introduced himself to the Alconian ambassador. "I hope you enjoy your stay in the Federal Republic," he said. "I'm sure you'll be very ... popular there." He choked on restrained laughter.

"That's not funny, Mr. President," Tehrani advised, just before both of them burst out laughing, Fernanda falling into the secretary's shoulder.

The president recovered first. "Well, who do we send them?"

"Tammy Reyes, the trashy hotel heiress, wants the nod in order to film a reality TV show in Alcona and Hubris."

The Destructor smiled satisfactorily. "Perfect."

OOC: Point of fact A+H is a State in the Federated Klatchian Coast (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/The_Federated_Klatchian_Coast) which is one of the "region nations"
Presenlty we happen to hold the Foreign Ministry.

Outer Ministry,
Thunderbay, Alcona
The United Duchies

A man in a silk suit looked up from his desk in the wood paneled office as two people entered. He had a confused look on his face as he discused something on the other end of the line... "Quite, yes I see...inform the ambassador that we were expecting her on a later flight and we will send a car for her immediatly."

He hung up the phone and looked at the man and woman who had just entered his office. "A Tammy Reyes and her film crew have just arrived. It appears this Tammy Reyes is the..." he paused pulling a note pad towards him..."The Ambassador from Ohmygodwekilledkenny..." Do either of you know anything about this?"

"Well the Feds did set up a Class D Envoy to er KillKenny people, I suspect she is the corresponding Envoy." The man offered

"What is she doing here? With a film crew?"

There was a general look of confusion amoungst everyone for a moment.

"Well it doesn't really matter, put her up at the old diplomatic residence, not like she is ever going to be received by the Klatchian President..."

"Nope, not when he's gone quite bonkers I here..."

"True true..."

The letter, when unfolded from its paper-plane shape, was short, but the official coat of arms embossed on the paper -- and the security microchip embedded in it -- spoke for its authenticity: "The Free Land of Ardchoille wishes to introduce Mrs Raewenna Dhurigh, who has agreed to serve as our Ambassador to the nation of Omigodtheykilledkenny. If the appointment is acceptable to your government we would be happy to accept a reciprocal appointment. Yours most sincerely, Dicey Riley, Co-President."

It was fortunate that the letter looked so authentic. The bearer, a woman of advanced years accompanied by a green tapestry Gladstone bag, a motheaten goat and a tangle of fuzzy tan wool with two needles sticking out of it, did not.The president sat behind his desk and the secretary of state leaned against the side of it as they observed the old lady who had just arrived to present her credentials on behalf of Ardchoille. Fernanda had no idea what to say to this. "This Dicey Riley chap: He any relation to our UN ambassador?"

"Somehow I doubt it, sir," replied Tehrani.

The old bat cackled softly to herself.

"This woman's crazy," Fernanda whispered.

The small animal accompanying Mrs. Dhurigh bleeted at him.

"I distinctly said no yapper dogs," Fernanda protested.

"That's a goat, Mr. President; what's your thing about yapper dogs, anyway?"

"They're just annoying is all! Cats chase them; that ain't natural." He paused, looking over the lady's credentials one last time. "Well, madam, we accept your appointment, and you can tell your employers that we'll be sending them one of ours soon enough --"

"Mr. President," Debbie interruped, sticking her head in the doorway to the hut. "Mrs. Radey is on the phone for you."

He sighed with dread. "Excuse me, Mrs. Dhurigh; I can't refuse a call from a former first lady," he groaned as he picked up the receiver.

"Hello, June," he said grudgingly, in a voice reminiscent of Jerry Seinfeld's trademark "Hello, Newman."

June Radey had been a constant heartache for the Fernanda Administration -- for any administration that happened to follow that of her husband Joe, who left office in 1955 and left her a widow 15 years ago. The 78-year-old loudmouth battleaxe was always willing to impart her delightfully candid if completely uninformed opinions on the press, and every president that succeeded Joe. She made headlines during the last election when she called then-President (now Senator) John Thorne "a nice boob," and said of his opponent Fernanda's hyper-machismo, "He's obviously compensating!" Dubbed "the Little Old Lady from Pasadena" (after the immortal Jan and Dean anthem, for she truly was the terror of Colorado Boulevard in her '94 Honda Accord), she'd been given speeding tickets on at least seven nonconsecutive occasions. She ruined a 1998 state dinner Fernanda had held for the incomparably dazzling queen of Drisdell by interrupting the punchline of a joke the president was telling to inform Her Majesty about the president's rash. The Destructor's hopes for another royal conquest were quashed that night, and he had not forgotten it.

"Mr. President, you wanna know what the problem is with your administration?" she ranted in her Boston accent. "To much crime. When Joe was president, you could walk down a dark alley at night, you can't do that no more. Too many gangs. You know what we ought to do with these gang members? Round them all up, put them on a desert island, give them guns so they'll kill each other, and not give another care about ..."

Twenty minutes later, the Destructor slumped in his seat, his elbow resting on his desk and his other arm holding the squawking phone to his ear. In the elapsed time, June hadn't spared a second to stop her blabbing, not even to catch her breath. Now she on about her late husband's many affairs: "... And that's when I learned that Joe had only started the Green Acres War to get into the Hick Duchess's pants! Let me tell you something, if Joe were alive today, he'd be dead, because I'd kill him. ...

"But no, you know me, I'm just a tired old woman, just sitting at home alone, no one to talk to, nowhere to go. ..."

That's when Fernanda was struck with an idea. "Nowhere to go, huh? June, have you ever been to Ardchoille?"

"Well, no, Mr. President; I've been to a great many places in my day, but I've never even heard of ..."

He cut her off: "I'll have someone at the State Department call you."

"Well, that very nice, Mr. President ..."

He hung up in triumph and turned to Tehrani. "If they can offload an annoying old woman on us, we can offload an annoying old woman on them, he said.

He turned to the new Ardchoillean ambassador. "Mrs. Dhurigh, tell your government we're sending June Radey to represent us in Ardchoille."

The new Cultural Attache from Ausserland walked over to the Ambassador from The Palatine, his submachine gun slung over his shoulder. He looked up--and up--at the big man.

"Hey, buddy! Got any more o' them Irons?" he asked. "Haven't had one o' them since the big bocce tournament in Munhall. That was... Geez, that was back when the bridge to nowhere still went nowhere."


"Munhall yunz say! Deys good people in Munhall. The Bocce is top knot dere.. Cheeze the bridge that goes ta nowhere makes me think of when Yunz could go get a Big Wink at Winkys!" Rocky looked down at the Cultural Attache and said,
"Sure Bud, dere in da cooler. Help yerself an'at. Ifn yunz want dere's some jumbo and Isaly's chipped chopped ham in dere. Have a sammich as well."


OCC. Rick Seback ought to be the honorary Mayor of Pittsburgh. I loved Things not there Anymore, Stuff thats Gone, and the Strip Show.;)

The nation of Pantycellen wishes to send Anelida Jenkins as ambasador to your nation with A.E.Pessimal as her assistant

Fact file:
Name=Anelida Jenkins
Age=32
Height=5'6
Eyes=blue
Hair=black
distingishing features=small scar on inside of wrist
Previous career=20-27 served with distinction in military, 27-32 served at the kasr dunedani as an instructor discharged due to her part in the inthaladian incedent (7 recruits still unacounted for), 32-? appointed ambassador to ohmigodtheykilledkenny.

Fack file
Name=A.E.Pessimal (just A.E.)
Age=38
Height=5'9
Eyes=black
Hair=black
distingishing features=none
Previous career=15-20 in training for foreign ministry, 20-23 classified cited for bravery, 23-24 classified recomended for censure for excessive collateral damage denied, 24-26 classified, 26-28 classified censure for nailing them to the ceiling denied, 28-29 classified recomendation for psychiactric assesment denied, 29-33 classified cited for bravery, 33-37 classified cited for bravery, 37-38 classified cited for bravery, 38-? assistent to ambassador to ohmigodtheykilledkenny

Cutler-Newington disembarked from the Handley Page, a bit shaken after travelling through the time vortex that leads to Cobdenia,. She still wasn't used to the fact that everything from the future that travels through the vortex automatically changes into stuff that was appropriate to the time in which Cobdenia exists, including the aeroplane (the 747 turned into five Handley Page aircraft). Still, it was amusing seeing those who didn't know about it's faces, especially the businessman sitting next to her who was one minute tapping away on a laptop wearing a Armani suit and the next was in possesion of a typewriter and wearing a three piece stroller suit and a wing collar; the poor fellow nearly cried!
A Government Rolls-Royce pull up in front of the 'plane to meet her, and she was ushered in, and at a reckless sixty miles an hour they sped towards the Foreign and Regional Office on Victoria Avenue. When she arrived, she was brought to the Permanent Under Secretary's Office:

"Now, about your next appointment..."

"Yes, sir?"

"Well, as I'm sure you are aware, we cannot let you know where your going untill their Head of State...put your clothes back on!"

"Sorry; but it is rather warm in here!"

"Well, that will have to stop when you go to your next posting, it's quite cold there, you know"

"Yes, sir. Sorry"

"It's quite alright"

"Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, we cannot let you know the nature of your assinement until President Man...I mean, the Head of State accepts your appointment, you understand?"

"Yes, sir"

"You will remain in Port Sir Richard until you've been confirmed, okay?"

"Of course, sir"

"Excellent. Right, now to the administrative business. Any questions before we start?"

"Can I take my clothes off now?"

"No"

"Can I at least strip to my underwear?"

"Oh, if you insist..."

Trell stood at the docks accompanied by Sir Osis of the Liver, Royal chatelaine of HeathenHaven http://members.sparedollar.com/joejbay/DavidLee.jpg anxiously awaiting the arrival of Frau Chatwick.
" Trell dude what ya got there bro?"
" Dese fowers are for Frau Gratwick. Duke Gunther Suave http://24ur.com/media/images/extra/Jul2001/1005215.jpg taid dat all ladies wike fowers nad...oh ...um yea dey wike ya to tell dem nice tings"
Sir Osis doing his best to stifle a laugh replied, "Dude I donna know if that'll work with Frau Chatwick."
"Yet it will, Duke Gunther is da best wadies man in all ub HeathenHaven dat's why he is Freyr Gyodi" Trell replied very satisfied at the grimace on Sir Osis' face. Duke Gunther was Sir Osis' cheif rival for the high coveted positition of Freyr Gyodi or high Priest of the god of fertility.
Just then the luxury liner "Cartman" pulled in to the dock and Trell spotted Frau Chatwick. "Oh tee is eben more bootiful in person!" he exclaimed feeling a bit weak in the knees. Frau Gratwick was wearing a very most severe gray suit, and sensible black shoes, little did she know that Trell had always been excited by the site of a woman in sensible shoes.

"Now, now, then, Sara. It won't be that bad. Especially considering the questions circulating about the 'Telekar Incident'. You know the one, right?"

"Yes, yes, yes! No need to remind me. How was I to know that that was hydrogen in that container. Honestly!"

Yoshi signed. The diplomatic director was not in the habit of tolerating stupidity silently, yet here it was, staring him in the face. Sara Trekal was from one of the older, and thus more established, Kriovalian families. However, genetics being what they were (and the Trekali tendency to reject 'outside' genetics), the family was practically disintegrating. Lady Trekal, at least when one could use the word 'Lady' as a prefix without bursting into gales of laughter, was occasionally capable of original thought. Sadly for those nearby, it was usually at the worst of times. Fortunately for Director Takahara, Sara Trekal was one of the handful of Christians who remained after the Bralosian evacuation. Score one for utility, anyway.

"Well, as you know, we need someone to represent Kriovalian interests in Omigod...er...something like that." His soft smile concealed the utter disdain he felt for both Sara and the nation to which she was about to be exiled...or rather, sent.

"Oh? Who are you going to send?" Sara's density could make neutronium envious.

"Well, it would have to be someone from a respected family, of course, and who is familiar with Christianity, their state faith." The noose tightened as Yoshi continued. "Perhaps a woman might put them at ease?"

"Hmm..." Left to her own devices, Sara might be able to ponder Yoshi's words for several hours, unless something shiny distracted her first. "Ooh! I know! Jessica could go!" Jessica Trekal had somehow managed to evade the family curse of late, possibly by being the illegitimate daughter of the Trekal matriarch. In any case, Yoshi was not about to banish Kriovalian intelligence to the wastes of Antarctica.

"I would," he began slowly, "but I think that your special talents might be better suited to this assignment."

"Really?!" She actually jumped up and down several times from the sheer excitement.

"Let me just prepare a brief statement for their government, and we can have you on a plane by mid-afternoon."

"Oh, goody!!!" Sara raced out of the room. Half an hour, she was frantically stuffing her Hello Kitty suitcase with all manner of pink garments.

To the esteemed government of Omigodtheykilledkenny:

If at all possible, our government would like to initiate relations with yours as soon as we can. To this end, we would like to send Lady Sara Trekal, an upstanding Christian woman from one of the most reputed families in Krioval, to represent our people. Enclosed you will find all the relevant information on Lady Trekal and her qualifications for this position. We thank you for your attention in this matter.

高原由
クリオヴァル

Yoshi Takahara
Krioval

Yoshi enclosed a photograph of Sara, carefully selecting the most demure of those available. Still, despite her long blonde hair and short stature, her cleavage was practically bursting through her almost-nonexistent pink dress. Director Takahara sighed loudly, and submitted the forms. He prayed to the Gods, Shinto, Kriovalian, and even Christian, that Sara Trekal would soon be safely outside the borders of Krioval.

Baron/Baroness von Bruanswieger was just putting the finishing touches on her/his makeup as the HMS Pinafore pulled into port at Taki Tiki. The loudspeaker crackled and Admiral Gillbert O'Sullivan announced, Your Excellency we have docked"
The Baron/Baroness turned to his daughter Princess Freya vonLiebe http://www.fhm.dk/grafik/wallpapers/1024/freya.jpg and said "Oh Princess I'm soo nervous! We must hurry and go ashore"
The Baron/Baroness was extraordinarily proud of the lovely daughter he had with his beloved Queen Aislinn of HeathenHaven so many years ago. He sighed as he remembered those days when he was the Queen's consort. He hadn't always looked like this http://members.petfinder.org/~NY71/Drag04_q3.jpg
in fact in those he was a young Admiral in Hre majesty's navy and quite attractive http://us.movies1.yimg.com/movies.yahoo.com/images/hv/photo/movie_pix/walt_disney/pirates_of_the_caribbean__the_curse_of_the_black_pearl/orlando_bloom/pirates2.jpg

They had been such a happy family until duke Otto vonZeppelin http://empress.buzzstuff.net/archives/Robert%20Plant-thumb.jpg
the country's most popular bard gave a command performance for the Queen and stole her away from him. That night his life was forever shattered. It left the Baron so heartbroken that he vowed to never love another woman again and went into a downward spiral of streudal addiction.

"Daddy, I hear this Manuelo is quite a rouge and scoundrel." Princess Katarina's melodic voice shook the baron out of his reminiscense.
"Yes Princess, but do try to tolerate him. You're mother wishes you to llearn some diplomacy and plase dear do try not to stab this president"
"Oh Daddy, I promise to do my best not to harm him"
That was not an idle promise from Princess Katarina who was head of the Royal Vakyrie Guards and principle Gythia to Odhinn ( virgin high preistess) and as such she was sworn to celibacy.
The pair disembarked and as they walked down the plank, Katarina hoped this Maneulo would not be as lecherous as President Clinton of SeeDusa.

The althetic and graceful woman walked over to the Presidential pavillion. She walked with a cool,anmost unhuman grace. Which was common for the nation she was from. She was from the SWNMBO Queendom of Domain of Kei, a nation filled with cyborgs, and Lucien Genetic Upgrades(TM), and Mecha. As she walked by the Tiki Taki musicians, one of the more inebriated ones grabbed her shapely posterior. With a speed unmatched by a human she turned and responded with five bonecrunching blows to the chest, followed by a wicked snapkick to the head. The Tiki Taki native flew back six feet before collapsing in a heap. Stunned into silence nobody moved as the woman calmly continued her walk to see the President. She walked over to President Fernanda and Alex Tehrani, and handed over her dossier, the datajack was barely visible behind her right ear. She then said in a cool businesslike soprano voice,
" Sorry about the mess. I'm Colonel Ryoko http://www.cursedsoul.com/anime/Ghost_in_the_Shell-022.jpg,I will be the new Ambassador from the Domain of Kei."

THe Dossier Read
Colonel Ryoko, 5'8", 400 lbs(titanium cyberneic shell), Age 30.
Former leader of the covert op/anti-terrorist Project Shirow.

As Colonel Ryoko waited for the reponse, a 5' spider like mecha wandered up saying in a cheerful voice," Ms Ryoko, what do want me to do with your luggage?"

"Just wait a few minutes Tachikoma until we see what flight we're on." Colonel Ryoko replied.

Above the five inch heels, back seam tights, and a very short, very black dress was the head of Marion. Between the shawl and the sunglasses she had only one distinguishing feature: her deep red lips.

"So this is Omigodtheykilledkenny. Where exactly do you want me?"

OoC: Is it just me or are we all sending Totty to Omigodtheykilledkenny?

Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: His Excellency the Governor-General of Cobdenia and the Rt. Hon. Sir Rory Relp,

We are pleased to inform you that the Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico, President of the Federal Republic, has acceded to your request to re-establish the Cobdenian embassy in Omigodtheykilledkenny. He hereby accepts the appointment of Ms. Cutler-Newington as ambassador and is ready to receive her ["stop giggling, Mr. President"] at his vacation hermitage on Tiki Taki before she traverses to the Federal Republic. We are actively working to appoint Ms. Cutler-Newington's counterpart to serve in the Governorate.Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

OoC: Is it just me or are we all sending Totty to Omigodtheykilledkenny?
OOC: Well I'm not unless you consider a grossly obese drag queen and a virgin Gythia sworn to celibacy "totty". LOL I mean if you like 300 lb drag queens well I guess we have very personal tastes :D :D
Actually I sent the drag queen to balance out the totty and the humour was just to goood to pass up:} :D :D

Jim thought for a moment before replying. "My cousin from HotRodia II could take the job. He was one of the "Rebellious Youths" that stole the car stereos from all the UN Inspectors just because they hate the UN. He'll fit right in with the folks in the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny.""Who is it they're sending?" asked the Destructor.

"We don't know his name, sir, but he is the problem-child cousin of this Jim person," Tehrani replied.

"They're sending a kleptomaniac relative of a government official, just like we sent one of ours (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=9947382#post9947382) to Ausserland?"

"Yes, sir."

"And just like HeathenHaven is sending a drag queen after our appointment of Princess Jasmine?"

"I'd call it karma, sir."

"Remind me never to send the Loch Ness Monster as envoy."

"Will do, sir."

"Wait a second; HotRodia? If we accept an embassy exchange, does that make us their puppet?"

"Mr. President, everyone and everything is a puppet of HotRodia, so I doubt it will make much difference."

The president thought for a moment. "Excellent. Then I know exactly whom to assign (http://www.sampowers.net/images/kermit_frog.jpg) to their nation."

The nation of Pantycellen wishes to send Anelida Jenkins as ambasador to your nation ..."Welcome to Tiki Taki, Ms. Jenkins," the president said warmly. "If you need anything at all before your flight, our hospitality czar, Michelle, is anxious to please you." He smiled slyly before adding, "And I'm anxious to watch.

"But first thing's first, I'd like you to meet Nessie, who will serve as your counterpart in Pentycellen. He is a sucker for the camera, and he likes to harass people for money."

"Mr. President, you just said five minutes ago that ..."

"Really? And did I appoint you as my Secretary of What I Said Five Minutes Ago?!"

Elizabeth was sitting in her luxurious town house in one of the wealthier districts of Cobdenia listening to the news on the wireless when she recieved the call:

"Ahoy hoy?"

"Mullerton-Forthsdyke-Camelsbreath here" Frederick Mullerton-Forthsdyke-Camelsbreath was the head of the Antartic and South Sea's Department in the FRO

"Yes, what is it?"

"You've been accepted for the Ambassadorial Position"

"Oh, how simply marvellous. Where am I to be posted?"

"Paradise City"

"In Omigodtheykilledkenny?" she practically shreiked

"Indeed; we've just re-established diplomatic links there. You'll be the first Ambassador there since we closed down the embassy when Major Stanislav Splurtburger-Casterlontz-Frusnik-Mushlaclan was assasinated by the penguin mafia for having a really stupid name. He was Sir Cyril's replacement, before he was made our UN rep, now that I come to think of it."

"How interesting" she said, still unable to control her excitement. In fact, she had already stripped naked save for her stockings. She then added:

"How am I going to get to Paradise City? Gubernatorial Airways' doesn't fly there!"

"You and your entourage will go by steamer. In fact, His Excellency has lent you his steam yuaght and crew especially"

"How spiffing! When do we leave?"

"Four hours. Good luck and have a safe voyage. Oh, and 'Liz?"

"Yes?"

"Put your clothes on"
He hung up.

She leaned down and started stroking her pussy

"Mummy's going away again, Clive; you'll be a good cat, won't you?"
Clive, her cat, miaowed softly.

Four hours later, she was on the Governor's yaught sailing for Tiki Taki, then onto Paradise City...

Elizabeth was sitting in her luxurious town house in one of the wealthier districts of Cobdenia listening to the news on the wireless when she recieved the call:

"Ahoy hoy?"

"Mullerton-Forthsdyke-Camelsbreath here" Frederick Mullerton-Forthsdyke-Camelsbreath was the head of the Antartic and South Sea's Department in the FRO

"Yes, what is it?"

"You've been accepted for the Ambassadorial Position"

"Oh, how simply marvellous. Where am I to be posted?"

"Paradise City"

"In Omigodtheykilledkenny?" she practically shreiked

"Indeed; we've just re-established diplomatic links there. You'll be the first Ambassador there since we closed down the embassy when Major Stanislav Splurtburger-Casterlontz-Frusnik-Mushlaclan was assasinated by the penguin mafia for having a really stupid name. He was Sir Cyril's replacement, before he was made our UN rep, now that I come to think of it."

"How interesting" she said, still unable to control her excitement. In fact, she had already stripped naked save for her stockings. She then added:

"How am I going to get to Paradise City? Gubernatorial Airways' doesn't fly there!"

"You and your entourage will go by steamer. In fact, His Excellency has lent you his steam yuaght and crew especially"

"How spiffing! When do we leave?"

"Four hours. Good luck and have a safe voyage. Oh, and 'Liz?"

"Yes?"

"Put your clothes on"
He hung up.

She leaned down and started stroking her pussy

"Mummy's going away again, Clive; you'll be a good cat, won't you?"
Clive, her cat, miaowed softly.

Four hours later, she was on the Governor's yaught sailing for Tiki Taki, then onto Paradise City...

OOC: Ohh that's a good one!!! VERY clever and witty esp the last few lines very funny!

Wait a second; HotRodia? If we accept an embassy exchange, does that make us their puppet?"

"Mr. President, everyone and everything is a puppet of HotRodia, so I doubt it will make much difference."

The president thought for a moment. "Excellent. Then I know exactly whom to assign to their nation."

OOC: Ohh my gods! that one brought tears to my eyes! I was laughing so hard I nearly pee'd myself

OoC: Is it just me or are we all sending Totty to Omigodtheykilledkenny?

OOC: The Ambassador from Ausserland is not Totty. Totty rarely wears body armor and shit-kicker boots, and almost never carries a sawed-off shotgun.

;)

After settling into their accomodations, the Baron von Braunsweiger and his retinue went out for a day of shopping and beauty at the local salon. Meanwhile the Princess Katarina von Leibe decided to stroll down the beach bar and have a few drinks.
She sat down and noticing a dwarf on the next stool choose her drink carefully "Gimme a shot of Knockadoo and a fookin black and tan and make is snappy!" The Princess had been carefully schooled on Dwarvin cultures and customs by her mother's secretary Lord Loki Weisleheimr http://freemasonry.bcy.ca/fiction/images/time_bandits.jpg and knew how to impress dwarves.
She chugged down both her drinks, lit a cigar, belched and turned to the dwarf on the next stool "So what's yer fookin name shorty?"
"I am Mr. Nikodemos Genovelis of Ausserland. What's it to ya lil tart."
"Nothin ya overgrown leprechaun, I just wanna know who I'm drinking next to"
"Then shut yer pie hole and drink" "
"Bah yer granny wears combat boots!" the Princess replied knowing the proper compliment to give a dwarf upon meeting them
"Bartender another round for the wench! Who are you and where ya from?"
"I'm Princess Katarina vonLiebe from HeathenHaven"
Nikodemos was quite impressed! He had heard stories of tough talking tall women from HeathenHaven. The Royal Valkyrie Guards, but had never met one himself. If the stories were true, he'd have to watch himself. They say these women can drink an ogre under the table and gamble the pants of a dwarf!

The Master of the Governor's yaught, Flying Free Trade Advocate, marched up to Elizabeth as she sunbathed naked on the forcastle deck.

"Message for you from the His Excellency himself, ma'am"

"The Governor-General? How fantastic!"

She read the telegram:

From: GOVERNORATE-GENERAL

To: DAME ELIZABETH CUTLER-NEWINGTON KCRC
HES FLYING FREE TRADE ADVOCATE

CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR APPOINTMENT STOP ADDRESS NOT REPEAT NOT INCORRECT COMMA AND THUS FURTHER CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR DAMEHOOD ARE IN ORDER STOP THE CAPTAIN HAS YOUR REGALIA COMMA I AM SORRY I WAS UNABLE TO CONFER IT UPON YOU PERSONALLY
C CCS

So, she was now a dame. How exciting, she thought. She turned to the captain, who held her velvet box. He opened it, and inside was the Riband and badge of a Dame Commander of the Most Fantabulous Order of Richard Cobden.

She took it out, and draped it over her naked body. She looked at her watch: five thirty. She had to get dressed for dinner (which would, of course, be white tie), and she relished the thought of wearing the sash for the first time.
As she scurried back to her stateroom, she caught sight of one of the other members of diplomatic staff, who was fiddling with his knob.

"Door stuck?" She asked

"Aye, I can't get into my stateroom"

"Get one of the crew to open it, if I were you"

As she scurried back to her stateroom, she caught sight of one of the other members of diplomatic staff, who was fiddling with his knob.

"Door stuck?" She asked

"Aye, I can't get into my stateroom"

"Get one of the crew to open it, if I were you"

OOC: LOL ya didn't lose the meaning on this Yank luv

His Royal Majesty, King James the First sat in his stately court surrounded by his courtiers. Prince Byron was in a conference call to the Royal Court and the matter was raised of an invitation to send a diplomat to represent VL in the nation of the Killed kennys.

KJ> Well frankly im not really arsed.
PB> I Understand that Your Majesty but there will be representations from far and wide. The Realm would be best served By sending someone.
KJ> Hmmmm (looks Around the room) YOU! yes you! the snivelling Dweeb.
SD> Yes Your Majesty?
KJ> Identify Yourself and what it is you do for me?
SD> I am Baron Rothsfor, Erm I am.....
KJ> Enough! You shall represent the Realm. Be off with you!
BR> (EX SD) But Sire, I am not qual....
KJ> Quiet! I have made my decree, Do you Question my Judgement?
BR> No Majesty! I would Nev....
KJ> Enough then! Liaise with Byron, He will brief you on your task.
BR> Yes Your Majesty, Thank you Your Majesty.


3 hours later Baron Henry Rothsfor was on a launch en route to serve his new position, diplomatic pouch in hand, to OMGTKK.

OOC: I feel like I've walked into a Carry On film. Who's providing the matron?

Hyatt Hotel
Thunderbay, Alcona
The United Duchies

The ISS agent sat quietly in the small basement alcove and listened to the bug in room 384.

....So how went the meeting?

Horrid...those blasted farmers just laughed at me.

What you mean they don't want a heiress running about their farms...they don't want to be on T.V?

Nope...at least not many of them...

Uh? So you did get a nibble?

Yesterday...but when the local agent sent me a picture of the blasted place I didn't think it would go...

What do you mean?

*The sound of a file hitting the table*

This isn't a farm house its...its a bloody palace....

Manor house actually....in Cwahaba...no Cawhabie...big island to the west of here...sixty thosand acres...

So instead of rich spoiled brat mixing with the poor, she is going to be mixing with the aristocracy?

If we take them up on their offer...

Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: His Excellency the Governor-General of Cobdenia and the Rt. Hon. Sir Rory Relp

We are pleased to inform you that a chieftan of one the tribes indigenous to our nation, the Lord Iganov (www.coolcontinent.com.au/Pictures/Animals/emperor_closeup2.jpg), has accepted our appointment as ambassador to Cobdenia, and pending his acceptance should arrive in Governorate shortly to re-establish our embassy there. Be advised that as the Lord Iganov claims to be the direct descendant of the psychotic Avilla the Hun, he is quite proud, and holds dubbing him "cute" as grounds for a pecking to the coital region.

The Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico sends his kindest regards.Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

Above the five inch heels, back seam tights, and a very short, very black dress was the head of Marion. Between the shawl and the sunglasses she had only one distinguishing feature: her deep red lips.

"So this is Omigodtheykilledkenny. Where exactly do you want me?"Gloria Leftwick, the insurance commissioner, and the higherst ranking official left in the nation after most of the government retreated to Tiki Taki for an extended vacation, trudged out through the cold and wind to greet this Princess Marion. She eyed her odd ensemble with concern. "Your Highness, you should know that we have assigned your embassy digs at the Indomitable Fortress of Avilla the Hun." She had to shout to be heard over the howling winds. "We are willing to assist with moving you in.

"And you might want to put something over that, that ... whatever it is you're wearing. You're in Antarctica."

... despite her long blonde hair and short stature, her cleavage was practically bursting through her almost-nonexistent pink dress. Director Takahara sighed loudly, and submitted the forms. He prayed to the Gods, Shinto, Kriovalian, and even Christian, that Sara Trekal would soon be safely outside the borders of Krioval."Mr. President, I think you should know that the immortal singer and liberal activist Barbra Heisman has put out an alternate-lyrics version of her classic song 'Reminisce.'"

"What does that have to do with me?" the Destructor asked without opening his eyes, annoyed that his secretary of state was interrupting his sunbathing for this.

"Well, the alternate lyrics are critical of your administration, and she is 'reminiscing' about the 'glory days' of the presidency of now-Sen. Thorne."

Fernanda opened his eyes and turned his head. "You mean, the brave and bold era when the Earth did not crash into the Sun?"

"Exactly, Mr. President. Let me read you some of the new lyrics:

"'Reminisce of the glory days when we were respected in the world' ..."

"We were never respected in the world!" protested Fernanda.

"'Reminisce of a time when we had a budget surplus/ Reminisce of a time when we did not squander our treasure on tax cuts for the rich' ..."

"I can't get over the artistry of these lyrics," sighed the president as he rolled his eyes.

"'Reminisce of a time when we did not war for oil' ..."

"I only did that once!!"

"It goes on from there, sir."

"God, this woman's annoying! She's the same one who attacked me for invading Kazakhstan ..."

"When you were actually invading Chechnya?" confirmed the secretary. "Yes, sir; that's the one."

"Isn't there some ambassadorial post we can stash her in?"

"Yes, sir. Krioval has just applied for an embassy exchange."

"Good. Tell them to expect Barbra Heisman."

"Yes, sir." The secretary left the Destructor to his sunbathing.

Fernanda laid his head back down and closed his eyes again in relief. Good riddance, he thought. Stupid woman doesn't even know how to spell "Barbara."

Gloria Leftwick, the insurance commissioner, and the higherst ranking official let in the nation after most of the government retreated to Tiki Taki for an extended vacation, trudged out through the cold and wind to greet this Princess Marion. She eyed her odd ensemble with concern. "Your Highness, you should know that we have assigned your embassy digs at the Indomitable Fortress of Avilla the Hun. We are willing to assist with moving you in.

"And you might want to put something over that, that ... whatever it is you're wearing. You're in Antarctica."
"My apologies. I always fly in this outfit. I'll go change. Matron?"

Marion returned somewhere between several layers of fur and velvet. Black, obviously.

"Lead the way."

Message to Omigodtheykilledkenny
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v335/JimRad-Mac/ns/CoAsmall.jpg
Office of the Governor-General


Your Excellency President Manuelo Fernanda of the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny and Secretary of State The Honourable Alex Tehrani,

His Excellency the Governor-General of Cobdenia wishes it to be known that we accept the Lord Iganov as your Ambassador Extraordinaire and Plenipotentiary of the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny to the Governorate of Cobdenia. We look forward to working with him and thus forge closer relations great nation. We have unlocked the old Omigodtheykilledkenny Embassy and Ambassador's residence, given them a new lick of paint and oiled the door hinges pending his imminent arrival.
Yours Sincerely,
C. Cholmondsey-Cholmondsey-Smythe
His Excellency Air Chief Marshall Sir Clive Cholmondsey-Cholmondsey-Smythe KCMG DFC, RAF
Governor-General of the Governorate of Cobdenia
Sir Rory Relp
The Right Honourable Sir Rory Relp, KCRC MHA
Secretary of State for Foreign and Regional Affairs of the Governorate of Cobdenia

Trell sat in the royal gardens with Frau Gratwick serving her meade and intently listening to her stories of her young life as a meat cutter's daughter in her tiny frozen village on OMTKK. "Well you see, whales are very large it takes a deft cut cut just so to....."
Trell's mind drifted, it had been 2 weeks since Frau Gratwick had arrived and she had not shown any interest in him! He was desparate to to win Frau Gratwick's affection. He had tried everything Duke Suave told him to no avail! Then, suddenly, he remembered what Sir Osis told him, "Dude get em realy drunk and let them watch ya choke your chicken, chicks dig that bro! Get's em everytime!" Well it was worth a try
Trell picked up one the hens that were allowed to run loose in the gardens and strangled it. (the Queen was wanting Cordon Blue for dinner)
As Frau Gratwick watched , she began to go weak in the knees, never before had she seen such ...skill!
"Ohh take me you Brute!" :fluffle:

:the next day:

The queen sat in her chambers, with Sir Osis and Dr Felix Gutenberg very upset by what had been reported to her.
"her Doctor are you sure the damage is permanent?"
"Ja My Queen, however it will not cause her any pain"
"Osis I am holding you personally responsible for this!"
"Your majesy I was only trying to help my bro! he's got the hots for this ..chick..bad" Osis replied laughing
"I don't know how I'm going to tell President Fernada!"

Urgent Communique
From: HRM Queen Aislinn of HeathenHaven
To: Ferdinand Manuelo

Heilsa Mr President,
I deeply regret to inform you that a most serious accident has occured involving Frau Gratwick. It seems that http://img154.exs.cx/img154/3033/catherinegratwick3vk.jpg
Frau Gratwick spent the evening with my butler http://www.vampy.tv/storia/0880sjornselfless4.jpg
Trell. The Royal Physician Dr Felix Gutenberg has thorougly examined her and states that it is his prefessional opinion that the physical changes http://thewizardofoz.warnerbros.com/movie/img/photos/photo1.jpg are quite permanent as qwell as her sudden fondness for pink teddy bears, purple unicorns and all things 'cutesy".

Dramatic stagelights flashed everywhere and the audience screamed as the overpaid, overhyped reality-show host strode across the elaborate set. "Hello, Omigodtheykilledkenny, and welcome to the 'Kenny Idol' Finals Results Special!!"

The audience sounded its approval.

"I'm Ryan Seacrest, and the results of last night's vote between our two finalists are coming up later tonight. But first, let's welcome your two finalists!!"

Cheers rang out once more as dramatic music greeted a shapely black woman and a short, trashy-looking blonde, both of whom appeared from remote corners of the giant set.

"Chastity and Missy, let's review what happened last night:

The camera focused on the black woman as Ryan began to read off his cue-card:

"Chastity: You sang a loving tribute to Diana Ross for her many, many run-ins with the law. ..."

There were tears in the girl's eyes as Ryan read on: "There wasn't a dry eye in the house. Even the judges (except Simon) were wiping tears from their eyes as you finished up. Omigodtheykilledkenny voted ... and we will hear what they said, later tonight.

"Missy (http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a118/teddygrahams113/christina-aguilera-chaps.jpg), ..."

The camera zoomed in on the skank with stringy blond hair. "... You sang an original song, 'Everybody Get Nasty!' You appeared on the stage wearing crotchless chaps and the tiniest jacket that covered up absolutely nothing, and the jacket, incidentally, was totally pointless, because it soon came off; you crawled up the set showing your cleavage like a horny sex kitten, and for five minutes you rubbed your crotch against the stage floor, which has been specially sanitized for our results show tonight.

"The judges (except Paula) said it was the most horrible performance they'd ever seen, and that is including the time that Roseanne Barr attempted to sing the national anthem in San Diego in 1990. Omigodtheykilledkenny voted ... and we'll hear what they said later tonight.

"Now, let's meet our judges!!"

The lights above the judges' table went up as the audience cheered.

"Randy Dawg ..."

"Yeah!!" cried Randy as the audience members agreed.

"... Paula Mohammed ..."

Paula blew kisses at the cheering fans behind her.

"... and Simon Cowell."

Simon greeted the erruption of jeers with his trademark smug look. He had managed to judge nearly every single English-language version of "Pop Idol," and "Kenny Idol" was no exception.

"Now Simon, you were rather harsh on Missy last night. Do you stand by your words?"

"Yes, I do ..."

Boos from the audience.

"... Now shut up and let me talk!" he lectured them in his cocky British accent. He turned to the blonde. "Look, Missy, I'm sure you're a ... very nice girl," he chortled, "... but the fact that you're Christina Aguilera's cousin doesn't help you at all; basically, you're twice the slut and half the talent -- and your cousin didn't have much talent to begin with. I mean, let's face facts: You look terrible, you sound terrible, you smell terrible, you probably even feel and taste terrible." The predictable jeers from the audience were already crescendoing when he delivered his punchline: "You're an assault on all five senses."

"You stole that line from an episode of 'Family Guy'!" noted Paula.

"And in this case, it's 100% true!" said Simon.

"Now for the results," said Ryan: "Remember audience, and viewers at home, our winner tonight will get a 1-million tree-fiddy recording contract, and the loser will get an ambassadorship to the Domein of Kei, land of cyborgs. The next Kenny Idol is ....

"Chastity Briggs!!"

The audience screamed as Missy tried to hug her opponent, who looked like she didn't even want to touch her. As all of the finalists and Chastity's family crowded the stage, Missy found herself in the clutches of network security.

"What the hell are you doing?" Missy asked above the pellmell. No one celebrating Chastity's victory seemed to notice she was being forced off stage.

"President's orders, ma'am," one of them explained; "you're to start your tenure in Domein of Kei immediately."

"Don't I even get to pack?" she queried.

"Your bags were already packed by State Department officials 10 minutes ago," the other told her.

They came upon two State Department guys in dark suits. One of them thrust papers at her. "Miss Aguilera, these are your credentials and one-way ticket to Domein of Kei. A car is waiting to take you to the airport."

The burly security thugs pushed her into their custody and watched as the government suits escorted her from the building. Then they walked off to celebrate with doughnuts and coffee.

"Sir, Venerable libertarians has applied for an embassy exchange, and have appointed a sniveling Dweeb ambassador," said Alex Tehrani to the president as he read his newspaper.

The Destructor didn't even look up. "Excellent. Send them the suit (http://s11.invisionfree.com/NatSovOrg/index.php?showtopic=120&view=findpost&p=1685222)."

The living Bioship carring Missy, the new ambassador arrived in the Domain of Kei. She was still fuming! How dare they send me to this hellhole! boy if I had an agent I'd let them know they can't mess with me. The living bioship puppet walked over to Missy, and said,
"Excuuse M.m..me M..M..Ms Missy? Y..Your phenotype is pl..ll..easing to me. can I use some of y..y..your discarded skin c..cc...cells, to grow a pup..pp..pet body?""Sure! The more of me the merrier!", Missy said. Perhapsh this place may not be so bad, she thought.

"All Passagers prepare for customs and departure." , a mechanical vioce said over the intercomm.

Ambassador Missy left the Bioship, and was supprised by what she saw. High speed monorails, and flying vechles and mecha of all sorts. And the people...most were dressed(or underdressed) to show of the glorious body of the Lucien genotype upgrades. another type of people walked with inhuman grace as well, but Missy had no idea why, until she saw one jack into a terminal. Smaller mecha and robots scampered along the way as well.

A black Haired Fem, was waiting for Missy at the Customs gate.
"Hello Missy! so your the tramp...er I mean Ambassador sent from Omigodtheykilledkenny", "My name is Yuri. I'll show you to the Embassy" The woman paused and said "Do you have her luggage Tachikoma?" A spider like mecha scampered up and said in a cheerful voice, "Yes Miss Yuri."
Yuri turned and said to the Ambassador, "This way ambassador." missy followed. She was sure that she would regret this. One day she would make them all pay for this after she became a famous singer.

"Daddy, I hear this Manuelo is quite a rogue and scoundrel." Princess Katarina (www.fhm.dk/grafik/wallpapers/1024/freya.jpg)'s melodic voice shook the baron ....

"Yes Princess, but do try to tolerate him. You're mother wishes you to learn some diplomacy and please dear do try not to stab this president"

"Oh Daddy, I promise to do my best not to harm him"

That was not an idle promise from Princess Katarina who was head of the Royal Vakyrie Guards and principle Gythia to Odhinn (virgin high preistess) and as such she was sworn to celibacy.

The pair disembarked and as they walked down the plank, Katarina hoped this Manuelo would not be as lecherous as President Clinton of SeeDusa.TIKI TAKI (Allied Press) -- President Fernanda vigorously denied rumors that he is having an affair with the new HeathenHaven ambassador's daughter. The rumors coincide with an irregular request from the Fernanda Administration that the Federal Congress supplement a contingency spending bill with a $100 billion increase in foreign aid to HeathenHaven.

Adding to the confusion, the Princess Katarina, Amb. Baron(ess) Von Braunswieger's daughter, is apparently bound by the laws of her faith to celibacy.

"I did not. have. sexual. relations. with that woman, Princess Katarima," he said, wagging his finger at reporters during a briefing outside his private hut on Monday.

"Her name is Princess Katarina," a reporter corrected him. "You said Katarima."

The president smiled nervously. "No I didn't."

"Yes, you did," the reporter insisted.

"What? Now you can put words in my mouth?" the president asked. "I did not have sax with Princess Katarina, Katarima, whatever you want to call her."

"Now you're saying you did not have 'sax' with her," the astute reporter noted. "Are you just hoping we won't notice that you're not really denying sleeping with her?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked Fernanda innocently. "I did not not have sex with that princess."

A string of administration officials refused comment, though the secretary of state, Alex Tehrani, said that the increase in foreign aid was only a "good faith" measure toward a nation with which the Federal Republic recently exchanged embassies.

He added, "You can say one thing about this president: unlike President Clinton, the women he seduces are easy on the eyes," he laughed. "I mean allegedly! Allegedly."

The steamer carrying Lord Iganov pulled into the harbour of Port Sir Richard at six o'clock. Red carpets were layed, and standing to attention along one side of it were fifty members of The Brigade of the Governor-General's Own Infantry Guards resplended in their full dress blue tunics and white pith helmets, and on the other members of the Gubernatorial Navy in their white tropical jumpers and bell bottoms. The gangplank was lowered, and out waddled Lord Iganov. As he waddled along the red carpet none of the honour guards saw him; they were trained always to look straight ahead, and they all just assumed that people from Omigodtheykilledkenny were rather short. At the end of the red carpet he was greeted by the short sighted and rather stupid Cobdenian Diplomat Reciever Sir Gordon Webley-Enfield-Lewis KCRC, dressed in white tie and tales (for the state dinner with the Governor that customarily occured when a new Ambassador arrived), bowed deferentially and ushered Lord Iganov into a waiting Rolls-Royce.

"I see your already dressed for dinner; that's excellent we can go straight to the Governorate. I hope the temperal vortex wasn't too much. Sometimes when the boat changes from a diesel powered cruise ship into an art deco steam liner it can be rather confusing"

"Arrrraaaaaaaaaakkk!", replied Lord Iganov

"Oh, I'm afraid I don't speak the language of Omigodtheykilledkenny. I assumed you spoke English"

"Arrrrrrraaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkk!"

"Num Lingue Latina Loquebar?"

"Arrraaakkkk!"

"Oh dear, this is going to be awkward"

The rest of the drive was in silence. Upon arriving, Sir Gordon opened the door for Lord Iganov, and accompanied him to the Governor-General's Office.
He opened the door and announced the new ambassador to the Governor-General, the Deputy Governor-General, the Prime Minister and various other important people.
"Your Excellency, Prime Minister, may I present the Lord Iganov, Ambassador Extraordinaire and Plenipotiary for the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny"

Lord Iganov entered the large office, which remained silent for about two minutes. A tumbleweed bounced across the office. A church bell rang in the background. Four wounded First World War Tommies hobbled past, hands on each others shoulders. The silence was finally broken by the Prime Minister, Dr Sir John Snipe Maddox KCS, who was fed up of all these metaphors appearing in the office.

"Gordon, you fucking imbecile, that's a penguin!"

His Excellency the Governor-General of Cobdenia wishes it to be known that we accept the Lord Iganov as your Ambassador Extraordinaire and Plenipotentiary of the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny to the Governorate of Cobdenia."Mr. President, the Cobdenians have accepted the Lord Iganov as our ambassador," Debbie informed the president as she laid out some papers on his desk.

"Good. Peck me in the groin, will he?"

"Lucky you were wearing an athletic cup at the time, sir."

"Yes, lucky."

Fernanda picked up some documents on the Cobdenian ambassador. "There's something wrong with this woman's resume," he said.

"What's that?"

"Consular, consul-general in Ecopoeia, deputy head of a mission in the Republic of Freedonia, Dame Commander of the Whatchamacallit Order of Whatsisface? She's actually qualified for the post."

"And she sure does get around," added Debbie dryly.

He pointed to an item in her resume, reading: "Tends to go for well muscled men in positions of power."

"Did you see that?" he smiled boastfully.

Debbie rolled her eyes.

"Sir, the Cobdenian ambassador has arrived," said Sec. Tehrani as he entered the hut.

Two burly Tiki Taki natives escorted the stunningly beautiful diplomat as she followed, finely dressed like a proper society woman from the 1920s. The Destructor rose from his seat and came out from behind his desk. He felt distinctly underdressed, although the ambassador seemed to enjoy him in only his luau shorts. She flashed him an alluring gaze; her eyes seemed to say, "Come hither."

"We're having a problem keeping her clothes on her," the secretary said.

Fernanda smiled seductively. "Care for a skinnydip, Ambassador?"

For once Debbie lost her cool. "Mr. President!" she shouted.

He ignored her. It was good to be the president.

"Urm, Prime Minister" ventured someone in the back of the room

"Yes?"

"I think that the penguin is the Omigodtheykilledkennyambassador"

"I see. But can you answer one question?"

"Certainly, Prime Minister"

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm just an extra, Prime Minister. The writer hasn't seen fit to give me a name"

"Hmm...okay, I'll take your word for it about him being the ambassador"

"Thankyou, Prime Minister"

"He's a cute fellow isn't he?"

Lord Iganov waddled over to the Prime Minister, and the Prime Minister bowed, only to be pecked in the goolies.

"Owww!" shouted Snipe-Maddox, as he rolled around on the floor holding onto his intimate area's.

"Look, the Penguin's going towards the typewriter on the Governors desk!" shouted The Rt. Hon. Sir Charles Godleming-Noodles CS KOG, Secretary of State for the Promotion of World Free Trade. And indeed Lord Iganov was.
He started tapping on the machine with his beak.

"What's he writing?" asked the Governor-General, Air Chief Marshall Sir Clive Cholmondsey-Cholmondsey-Smythe GCS GCRC GOG RAF, in a weak voice; it was the first time he had spoken since Lord Iganov entered.

"I'll have a look, Your Excellency" said Sir Charles

"Owww! My fucking balls! Owwww!" continued Snipe-Maddox; Sir Charles had made his way to the typewriter.

"He says 'trreio kedleir pfiutytronsderhoskclumplruusrawomq', Your Excellency"

"What the blazes does that mean?" Asked the Governor

"It means he doesn't know how to read or write, Your Excellency"

"That's not bally suprising, he's a blasted penguin" continued the Governor

"Shall we escort him to the embassy?" ventured Sir Gordon Webley-Enfield-Lewis KCRC

"Probably be a good idea. And give him a fish, will you?"

"Yes, Your Excellency"

Janet Blyleven was scouring the morning news reports for noteworthy events. One month to go, she thought, and smiled at the prospect of being freed from her service as Frank Chalmers' lackey in the department for International Relations. Her sunny mood swiftly turned sour as she read the news from Cobdenia.

"Jussi, take a look at this," she called to her husband. He gently poked their young son on the nose and wandered over. Janet wrinkled her nose at his shirt, coated in the debris from the toddler's breakfast.

"What is it?"

"Sweet Fanny Adams has found herself a new... job."

"Who?"

"Oh, that Cobdenian tramp who was ambassador pre-wertewandel."

Jussi glanced at the article in disinterested fashion.

"Christ, how many surnames does she want? Hmm, none of them are Adams - where'd you get that from?"

"Simple, really. She knew Fuck All and she'd Fuck Anything."

Jussi groaned. A lump of mushed cauliflower cheese smacked him on the left cheek and his son giggled impishly. Jussi smiled in helpless adoration and left his wife to her work.

KCN News

Klatchian Envoy Goes Missing

The Klatchian Envoy to Ohmygodtheykilledkenny recently sent an encrypted message to KCN. This letter appears to either be a suicide note or a decleration of war. It was not until thirty minutes ago that we figured out that the code word for the encryption was penguin.


It is so damn bleak here. No one is here. The whole friken government is in some paradise. I want to be in paradise. The whiney ghosts keep me up all night. Penguin. Really things here have gone from bad to worse. The locals make muffled comments out of their orange jump suits that I'm not sure are obscene, or what. Penquin. And they smell...like they haven't had a bath in a couple of days or something. Penquin.

Every night I have the same dream, Penguin. It is of a penguin standing over me, telling me that I must rid his home of the pesky foreigners, Penguin. I look down and I am a penguin, penguin.

penguin. I must stop saying penguin, penguin. Damn it....penquin. I said penguin again. penguin...penguin...penguin...penguin...

I am a penguin...I must follow the orders of the penguin king. I must purify his palace of the smelly beef eaters...penquin penquin...


It has been noted that Ms Mackavoy recently purchased a flame thrower, a box of thirty fire bombs, and a Penquin costume.

Recent attempts by this network to contact the envoy have only had one reply. Penquin.

OOC: The Ambassador from Ausserland is not Totty. Totty rarely wears body armor and shit-kicker boots, and almost never carries a sawed-off shotgun.

;)


OCC. Totty is in the eye of the beholder. Like my grandpa once said to me,"Boy! If we all had the same tastes, then everyone would be chasing your Grandmother."

Queen Aislinn of HeathenHaven was sipping her meade watching the Fashion channel in her study with Lord Loki Weisleheimr when she heard this.

"Manuelo Ferdanda Stud or Dud?"

"Hello this is Sleeza Giveit. President Ferdanda of Ohmigodtheykilledkenny has long enjoyed a reputaion of being an int'l playboy and womanizer but how true is this?"

"Our Enquiring minds reporters went to Taki Tiki to find out. It seems that last nite the president Fernanda went skinny dipping at a certain nighttime beach spot with a certain lady from Cobdenia. Our Enquiring minds photographer caught up with them and was able to obtain this photo of the president" http://ewancient.lysator.liu.se/pic/fanq/l/a/laurafree3/pantsdown.jpg

" When asked why the president of OMTHKK was wearing wings, The lady of Cobdenia had this to say."

"Well Sleeza President Ferdananda has a secret fetish for wings and ...birds esp Artic birds. "

We asked prominent sexologist Dr. Ruth how a bird fetish could develop

"Vell considering his now publicly know short coming and his isolation in ze artic It could be a pecking envy ja?" Dr Ruth stated

" In related news , the rumors and allegations of the president of OMTHKK seduction of Princess Katarina of HeathenHaven being a publicity stunt in order to gain popularity points in the polls are flying!"

" We were able to catch up with Baron/Baroness von Braunsweiger at local pastry shop and he had this to say."

"Well I always knew that my daughter had nothing to do with the president. His obvious lack of fashion sense, hawain shirts, oh my gawds doesn't he know that pink is the new black!"

"Well this is Sleeza Giveit be sure to stay tuned for all the latest developments in this bizzare twist of events!"

The gentle Pacific waves crashed against the shores of Tiki Taki. In the distance, frightened seagulls screeched as the Ausserlander ambassador and her staff engaged in their morning target practice. Rigorous training was essential if one hoped to survive the streets of Paradise City.

The natives' music continued to play. So repetitive, the Destructor thought; like the music on a video game. This morning found him lying facedown on a beach recliner, reading the paper; the only thing covering him was a towel draped across his midsection. Sec. Tehrani approached.

"Mr. President, a few items to brief you on this morning."

Fernanda looked up, squinting his eyes in the rising tropical sun.

"Oh, yeah? How's the embassy exchange going?"

"Well ... ," Tehrani paused. "I don't know if you've been paying attention, but it's been one scandal after another. You yourself have already been linked romantically to three of the woman in this exchange."

"Hey! I could have gone after more; it's just been a light week for me," he protested.

"Mr. President," Debbie chimed in, "since we opened the exchange, you've been accused of sleeping with the baroness's daughter, our outgoing ambassador to Athiesism ... and ..." she added with distaste, "the Cobdenian ambassador."

The Cobdenian ambassador, lying next to the president (nude, of course) in an adjacent recliner, momentarily looked up from her magazine with disinterest, then returned to drawing mustaches on the photos of Princess Katarina, absentmindedly stroking the Destructor's hair with her free hand.

"Isn't there something you could be doing, 'Dame Commander'?" Debbie asked sarcastically. "Reopening the abandoned Cobdenian embassy, perhaps?"

The diplomat ignored her, engrossed as she was in paparazzi photos of her and the president frolicking on the beach. Damn, her hair looked good in that shot.

"Women aren't the only scandal here," Tehrani noted. "Our ambassador to Cobdenia assaulted the prime minister upon his arrival there."

"In the usual place?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yeouch!" said the president.

"The Klatchian ambassador to the Federal Republic has also been reported missing and presumed crazy."

"The Antarctic will do that to some people," he shrugged.

Tehrani leaned in to whisper in his ear: "The Ecopoeians warn that Ms. Cutler-Newington has a reputation."

"The Ecopoeians? Who are they?" the president asked.

"The ones Riley had a smackdown with over Freedom of Conscience at the UN. It was on all the major networks, Mr. President."

Fernanda scoffed. "The UN? I mostly tune that shit out when Riley goes on about it."

"Right. Well, there's another thing: Muslim activists say our capital city's new tourism motto, 'We're Baghdad without the burqas!' is insensitive, and may discourage Muslim nations from establishing relations."

"Meh."

"Not only that, al-Jharad has put out another video of their leader Mohammed Yaffa threatening to rain violence on Paradise City unless the motto is replaced."

The president laughed out loud. "No one's gonna notice if one more bomb goes off there!"

"Nevertheless, we need to respond, Mr. President."

"Can't we just blow up one of them nations that supports that Yaffa dude? Like France?"

"Well, Mr. President, we could try attacking the country where he's actually located ..."

"No dice. If we go there, then sooner or later the voters are gonna catch on that we haven't caught him yet!"

With a quick yelp, a tabloid cameraman fell from a nearby palm tree. Landing in the sand right in front of where the president and the naked ambassador lay, he caught a quick scandalous shot of them (Cutler-Newington smiling brightly for the camera) and ran off. The party on the beach returned to their business as though nothing had happened.

"Any more embassy applications yet?" asked Fernanda.

"We'll just have to wait and see, Mr. President."

After settling into their accomodations, the Baron von Braunsweiger and his retinue went out for a day of shopping and beauty at the local salon. Meanwhile the Princess Katarina von Leibe decided to stroll down the beach bar and have a few drinks.
She sat down and noticing a dwarf on the next stool choose her drink carefully "Gimme a shot of Knockadoo and a fookin black and tan and make is snappy!" The Princess had been carefully schooled on Dwarvin cultures and customs by her mother's secretary Lord Loki Weisleheimr http://freemasonry.bcy.ca/fiction/images/time_bandits.jpg and knew how to impress dwarves.
She chugged down both her drinks, lit a cigar, belched and turned to the dwarf on the next stool "So what's yer fookin name shorty?"
"I am Mr. Nikodemos Genovelis of Ausserland. What's it to ya lil tart."
"Nothin ya overgrown leprechaun, I just wanna know who I'm drinking next to"
"Then shut yer pie hole and drink" "
"Bah yer granny wears combat boots!" the Princess replied knowing the proper compliment to give a dwarf upon meeting them
"Bartender another round for the wench! Who are you and where ya from?"
"I'm Princess Katarina vonLiebe from HeathenHaven"
Nikodemos was quite impressed! He had heard stories of tough talking tall women from HeathenHaven. The Royal Valkyrie Guards, but had never met one himself. If the stories were true, he'd have to watch himself. They say these women can drink an ogre under the table and gamble the pants of a dwarf!

Colonel Maprang sat at one of the small tables in the corner of the bar, sipping her fourth bourbon and water and eavesdropping on the conversation between Nick and the blonde floo... er... young woman from Heatherhaven. The girl had obviously gotten her information about dealing with dwarves from someone from one of the... uh... less civilized dwarven nations--Bumfolder or Moldbottom, probably. But ol' Nick was a master at playing a role, particularly when there was a good-looking blonde on the other end of the conversation. Anyone else calling Nick "shorty" would have been back-handed off the bar stool. And the "overgrown leprechaun" remark would have produced a swift kick to an unmentionable part of the anatomy. But Nick was obviously interested in a variety of her anatomical features.

The Colonel chuckled softly. Then she noticed a young man at the next table, obviously giving her the eye. He had slicked-back black hair, a straight-from-the-bottle tan, three gold chains around his neck, and a come-hither look in his eye. Colonel Maprang picked up her M-36, jacked a round in the chamber, and grinned at him. He leaped up and trotted into the men's room. She put down the assault rifle and took another sip of her drink. She decided she'd better watch herself. Another half-dozen of these and she might start to get tipsy.

The Indomitable Fortress of Avilla the Hun

It was one of those days when the wind had gotten so high, and the sun was so low, that you couldn't see much of anything for the snow blowing around. Nor was it surprising when a penguin started to appear out of the blowing snow towards the Indomitable Fortress of Avilla the Hun.

Of course a six foot tall penguin, with a flamethrower in its flippers and a bandolier of odd grenades across its chest might cause some concern.

The penguin, then screamed "penquin uber alles" fired off a fireball at the gates of the ancient fortress and charged forward.

LMD Ministry of Schmoozing Ruddy Foreigners

Sec. Tehrani:

While we have absolutely no use for the tyrannical machinations of the United Nations, or any foolish nation that would subject itself to it, we are not averse to this overture by Your Excellency. Although the last time we entered into such an arrangement with the Federal Republic we found ourselves "liberated" by your armed forces, we would submit ourselves again to apply for an embassy exchange, and to that end have designated Gen. Belinda Merktel to serve as our envoy. We would strongly advise you not to sabotage this round of negotiations, as Gen. Merktel retains of command of 15th Supreme Counterrevolutionary Legion, which controls a secret nuclear silo, the arsenal of which, incidentally, is aimed squarely at Paradise City. We also note with some satisfaction that the general is what some men would politely term "handsome" (photo here (http://www.medicaltoys.com/NURRAt.jpg)), and is disciplined against even the suavest of suitors, making her immune from the lecherous advances of your playboy president.

Sincerely,
Khalid Gehinnan
Minister for Schmoozing Ruddy Foreigners

In the Cobdenian Embassy, the newly arrived diplomats where having their opening ball in which all Cobdenians living in Omigodtheykilledkenny were invited. The fact that apart from the diplomats there were no Cobdenians living in Omigodtheykilledkenny was not going to stop them from having a damnedably good party regardless. The men wear all dressed in white tie, except for the miltary attache Colonel, Jason Glenmoray-Laphroaig-Tallisker, the naval attache, Commander Iain Wettsem-Silf-Attenite, and the air attache Squadron Leader Tobias Halifax-Wellington, who were in full mess dress. The ladies were in full length ball gowns, each apparently vying with one another to see who could look most like a peacock.

Commander Wettsem-Silf-Attenite turned to the Vice-Consul (Trade) Horatio Blowhard-Russington:

"I say, Blowhard-Russington, what's Dame Elizabeth doing? Shouldn't she be here?"

"I believe the answer to your questions, Commander, are, in order; the president and yes"

"Oh I see."

"And if she does turn up, she'll probably insist on wearing her DCRC sash and star"

"What's the problem with that? Most of us our wearing our orders and medals, including you, Blowhard-Russington!"

The Commander pointed at the CRC at Blowhard-Russington's throat

"Indeed. But most of us are wearing clothes underneath our regalia"

"Oh, I see. But then, if anyone was to walk around in their birthday suit, I'm glad it's Her Excellency and not, say, Lord Philpott-Cottingsgate" The Rt. Hon Sir Philpott-Cottingsgate, the 4th Viscount Keynes, KCRC was a nice sight to behold even when fully dressed; and was looking worse tonight due to the fact that he felt he should have been Ambassador as opposed to the mere Deputy Head of Mission.

"True"

"And that chap over there is naked. And what's more he's urinating into that pond!"

"That's a statue, Commander"

"Oh. Sorry, my eyesight isn't so hot"

"I know. Tell me, when you were First Lieutenant on the GS Fluffykiller, how exactly did you not notice that oil tanker"

"It snuck up on me"

" 'It snuck up on me' ?!"

"Urm...yes. Look, a lemming" said the Commander, pointing behind Blowhard-Russington, just before running off

Marion turned to address Matron (who was actually a body guard in case you spotted that inconsistency)

"So does anything happen here?"

"I'm afraid not. The Cobdenians are having a ball."

"Are we not invited."

"I'm afraid not."

"There is only one solution to this. A hot tub and alcohol. Invite everyone between here and New Manchester."

"Yes Mages…Minis…Marion."

The party was going well. So far, 31 bottles of Champagne had been drunk, and about 50 tins of caviar had been eaten. It was then that the MC stood up and started to announce so more guests:

"Dame Elizabeth Cutler-Newington DCRC, Ambassador Extraordinaire and Plenipotentiary to the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny"

"Thank God for that!" Colonel Jason Glenmoray-Laphroaig-Tallisker said under his breath

She entered, wearing an absolutely stunning full length black dress and her DCRC regalia

"Good Lord! She's got her clothes on", Blowhard-Russington said to no-one in particular

Dame Elizabeth spoke to the gathered diplomats

"I hope you don't mind, but I've brought a few guests"

The MC continued:

"Mr Sam 'Pistols' Caprinelli, Don of the South Paradise Island Mafia, and Miss Brandy Luvsalott of the Lucky Strike Escort Agency"

"Hey!" exclaimed Brandy

"Englebert and Mrs. Humperdink"

"Rittmeister Manfred Albrecht Freiherr von Richthofen"

"The philosophy department of the university of Wollomalloo"

"The 1956 Soviet Politburo"

"Executive Board of the GlaxoSmithKline Pharmaceutical Corporation"

"The Paradise City over eighties nudist trampoline team"

"The United States Senate"

"The Officers and Men of the British Home Fleet"

"The population of Norway"

Elizabeth Cutler-Newington (now naked save for her sash, high heels, stockings and suspender belt) spoke to the masses of people now trying to fit into the ballroom:

"Do you think I invited too many people?"

The people of Cluichstan will happily establish an embassy in the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny. Selection of an ambassador will take some time, but our diplomats will begin arriving shortly.

And for the record, we prefer short women. We'll pass on the Amazons. Petite girls from Poland, however...

Respectfully,
Foreign Minister Sheik Retep bin Cluich

Following our decision to establish official diplomatic relations with the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny, the people of Cluichstan have named Ocifingam bin Cluich the new ambassador to our friends in the Federal Republic. May our relations continue to be mutually beneficial.

Respectfully,
Foreign Minister Sheik Retep bin Cluich

Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: His Eminence Sheik Retep bin Cluich

We are pleased to inform you that we hereby accept Mr. bin Cluich as the Cluichstani ambassador and designate Prof. Frink, a mad scientist with hyper-advanced doctoral degrees in microcalifragilistics and all the other major pointless sciences, as our ambassador to Cluichstan. Prof. Frink's dossier can be located here (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Professor_Frink) (please do not pester him for his scandalous role in Operation Hoooooooyyyven-Mayven); his appointment should put to rest any conceit you may have that we are jealous (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=9986525#post9986525) of your supposed "Doomsday Device," for you see, even if you did have the Doomsday Device, we have on our retainer the expertise necessary to construct our own even if we were jealous of yours, even though we are not. We might also add that Prof. Frink's resemblance to any other character, fictional or otherwise, is entirely coincidental, and that by reading this disclaimer you have absolved us of any liability (with the stealing, and the lawsuit! and the "Please nice judge, don't hurt a person!") in perpetuity throughout the universe.Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

Pazu-Lenny wanted to establish diplomatic relation with OMGTKK and to exchange embassy for long. But he got a problem. He didn't manage to find someone willing to swap his/her pleasant life in LAE against higher salary and various advantages (free car house, domestic employees ......) ... in OMGTKK.

Then he received a email from the main prison in LAE, the mail was a including a message by a famous prisoner: Martin Ruptcor. Martin Ruptcor was the former president of a large humanitarian organisation. Once a very generous person, Martin loosed control of himself and diverted large ammount of money from the organisation for his personal use. The tax departement had never get back the money from his hidden bank accounts in Caymans, Bahamas and St Vincent & The Grenadines.

In the message was only a list of foreign bank accounts and a sentence at the end:

"I didn’t spend much of the money, almost everything is there, please give me a chance, I will be the person you are looking for in OMGTKK”

Pazu-Lenny hesitated, but the only other solution he has was to designate a “virtual” ambassador, living in LAE and maintaining contact with only travels and holographic video conferences.

Then he called Alex Tehrani for a holographic video conference and proposes him to exchange embassy and the name of Martin Ruptcor as embassador of LAE in OMGTKK, hoping for a positive answer.

"

The party was nearing it's climax by now, and thankfully most of the guests invited by Dame Elizabeth had left due to lack of room. The band struck up the special music, for the ceremony that was about to begin. The tail-coated waiters entered, carrying the silver platters upon which Ferrero Roche had been arranged into a giant pyramid. Each of the guests took one (although the pyramids never actually shrunk), and the one of the women present, as was the custom, went up to the ambassador and said:

"Embessador, viz zis Ferrero Roche you err reelly spoiling us!"

in a bad French accent.

The ceremony was followed with standing and singing of the Cobdenian National Anthem, Ommiting verses 2 and 5 (http://www.iet.ntnu.no/~makarov/temporary_url_20050704hnbdv/anthem-sovietunion-1977-instr-may_9_1985.mp3):

On Cobden's true words of a free trading planet
Cobdenia has welded for ever to stand,
Thy wealth was created by the will of our people,
Now flourish as one, the great Liberal Land!

Sing to Cobdenia, home of the wealthy,
Defender of Free Trade and Independence!
The ideal of freedom, the strength of our people,
To Cobdenism’s triumph it will lead us on!

In the victory of Cobdenism’s deathless ideals
We see the future of our glorious Land,
And to her crested blue ensign banner
Selflessly true we always shall stand!

Sing to Cobdenia, home of the wealthy,
Defender of Free Trade and Independence!
The ideal of freedom, the strength of our people,
To Cobdenism’s triumph it will lead us on!

The green forests in which the crested newts roam free,
Alongside the Uranium colliery,
Our soldiers train to do battle for the sad day
The Protectionist scum land on our great shores!

Sing to Cobdenia, home of the wealthy,
Defender of Free Trade and Independence!
The ideal of freedom, the strength of our people,
To Cobdenism’s triumph it will lead us on!

Dame Elizabeth remained standing, glass in her hand, and proposed the toast.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, to His Excellency the Governor-General"

Everyone in the room responded:
"The Governor!"

Then they all started dancing along to Oh What a Feeling from Flashdance...

FROM THE FLOYDIAN UNION OF PALIXIA
Reguarding Diplomacy With your country
Out of the 4 Republics of Palixia, only one, the Brixtonian Capitalist Conservative Republic voted against starting diplomatic relations with Omigodtheykilledkenny, We have chosen 2 delegates, Jenna and Jenna Plant (http://img388.imageshack.us/img388/358/untitled4sr.jpg). We appologize if we can only send one, but they must go together as they requested.

Fernanda sighed as he looked over the request from the Palixian government. He turned to his secretary of state, standing over him.

"So what do you think, Alex?"

"They have a very unfortunate history, Mr. President."

"They nearly got our region into war."

"Yes, sir, and they tried to seize the regional delegacy. Constantly getting themselves tied up in international conflicts. Nutty, Pink Floyd-worshiping theocrats currently in the throes of civil war."

Fernanda scoffed. "Troublemakers."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, we better send over someone who can keep them in line."

Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: The Floydian Union of Palixia

We are pleased to inform you that we have acceded to your request for an embassy exchange. Be on notice that we accept Jenna and Jenna Plant as envoys from your nation, and hereby designate their counterpart (http://img32.photobucket.com/albums/v95/rob_24_7/evil-monkey.jpg) to represent our interests in Palixia. If you got a closet, his embassy can be located there. (He's very low maintenance.)Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

Defense Secretary Charlie Valentine eyed the girly blonde seated across his desk. Vice Adm. Janet Kaczmarek smiled stupidly back at him.

"Well, Admiral, there's no need to be ashamed about the recent ... erm, incident on the Wigganese front."

Kaczmarek, incapable of reading between the lines (and barely able to read at all), sighed in deep relief. "Why, thank you, sir."

"I mean, devising naval military strategy by playing Battleship? How could we possibly have suspected?" He started to laugh. "And then, the South-Central Command, on your advice, deploying an entire destroyer fleet to what you called 'B-12'?"

Kaczmarek started to laugh with him. "Yeah, wasn't that a hoot?"

Valentine was laughing harder; he could barely get the words out. "And then we find out ... that 'B-12' isn't even on the water? It's solid ground?!"

Kaczmarek continued giggling cluelessly along with him.

"And what is it you said when we discovered this?" Valentine quizzed.

"Umm ... 'Just put the boats on wheels'?"

"Just put the boats on wheels!!" roared the secretary in delight. They continued to laugh together for about 15 seconds, when Valentine recovered, but Kaczmarek continued to cackle moronically for another minute. Valentine watched her impatiently and sighed. If there was a case against chicks in combat, she was it.

Kaczmarek noted that the joy in Valentine's face had vanished, and quickly stifled herself. "So, am I fired?" she asked in dread.

"Oh, no, no, no," Valentine said innocently. "We're simply ... erm, reassigning you. Promoting you, in fact.

Kaczmarek smiled.

"State tells us an ambassadorship just opened up in Love and esterel. ..."

The woman suddenly straightened up in her chair. The fright in her face was unmistakable. "No! You can't exile me to the Land of the Fluffies! You can't even eat dolphin there!"

Valentine smiled evilly. "No, but at least your children will have plenty of computers to work with at school!"

Two MP officers appeared over Kaczmarek's shoulders and seized her; she wailed as they dragged her off.

Valentine watched after her with satisfaction. Another problem solved.

* _____ * _____ *
Pazu-Lenny hesitated, but the only other solution he has was to designate a “virtual” ambassador, living in LAE and maintaining contact with only travels and holographic video conferences.

Then he called Alex Tehrani for a holographic video conference and proposes him to exchange embassy and the name of Martin Ruptcor as embassador of LAE in OMGTKK, hoping for a positive answer."Of course, Minister," Tehrani replied to the hologram, "we would be happy to establish diplomatic relations with your fine nation. In fact, our envoy is on her way to set up our embassy in L&E right now! If you see that she's been tied to her airplane seat, or muzzled, just ignore it. She's just really excited to be in L&E!"

An old-fashioned limo with standard diplomatic flags on either side on the hood roared up the driveway to the Cobdenian Governor-General's residence. Standing in the portico in utter apprehension was the Governor-General himself, who had stormed out alarmedly to greet this unexpected visitor. The limo stopped, and the chauffeur got out to open the rear door. Out waddled the Lord Iganov, the Omigodtheykilledkenny ambassador, a few members of his staff in tow; they immediately approached the Cobdenian leader, quacking in determination, and halted in front of him. The Governor-General and all male members of his entourage had made sure to guard their sensitive areas with their hands.

Sir Cholmondsey-Cholmondsey-Smythe noticed the ambassador was carrying an official sealed envelope in his beak. His right hand momentarily left its post over his valuables as it moved, slowly and cautiously, toward the ambassador's mouth to retrieve the envelope. He quickly grabbed it and nodded thankfully at the lord as he broke the seal. Inside was an official communique:

Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: His Excellency Governor-General Sir Clive Cholmondsey-Cholmondsey-Smythe of Cobdenia, and the Rt. Hon. Sir Rory Relp

The Federal Republic is most pleased with the recent sharp improvement in the relations between our two great nations -- so much so, in fact, that the president cannot help but giggle every time the words "Cobdenian relations" are spoken. In the interest of preserving these newfound strong ties, His Excellency the Governor-General, the Rt. Hon. Sir Rory Relp, their families, senior diplomatic staff and various other Cobdenian dignitaries are formally invited to an Official State Visit to be held on the island of Tiki Taki. His Excellency will have extensive access to the Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico, Manuelo Fernanda, President of the Federal Republic, who plans to hold a joint formal news conference with him. An official State Dinner will be served in the form of a luau on the beach, and all official Cobdenian visitors will be lodged in the newly built Tiki Taki Resort for three luxurious days and nights. This fabulous vacation package can be yours, if you respond in the affirmative.

We hope you will join us in this momentous occasion for our two countries.Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of StateThe Governor-General finished reading, and nodded politely at the lord as the latter turned about and waddled back toward the limo with his staff.

Silly humans, the diplomat thought. Why do they always cover up their crotches?

Sir Clive was very excited at hearing the news. He hadn't left Cobdenia since he arrive in '27. He immeadiately sent a formal letter back to the Destructor:


http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v335/JimRad-Mac/ns/CoAsmall.jpg
Your Excellency,
Due to his tireless efforts in bring our two nations together, His Excellency Air Chief Marshall Sir Clive Cholmondsey-Cholmondsey-Smythe GCS GCRC GOG, Governor-General of Cobdenia, bestows upon President Manuelo Fernanda of the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilled Kenny the honour of an Knight Grand Cross of The Most Fantabulous Order of Richard Cobden.
Congratulations
ACM C. Cholmondsey-Cholmondsey-Smythe, GCS GCRC GOG
His Excellency Air Chief Marshall Sir Clive Cholmondsey-Cholmondsey-Smythe GCS GCRC GOG

Still, he thought that it might have more today with Dame Elizabeth than an actual desire on the part of the Destructor from Del Fuego to improve relations. He thought of poor Relp; and how he would love to see his face when he discovered his beloved shagging Fernanda. He laughed. Serve the po faced git right!

Info on GCRC (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Cobdenia#Most_Fantabulous_Order_of_Richard_Cobden)

The Governor-General stood on the dock at Port Sir Richard with a small entourage as a cargo freighter carrying a giant crate came to port. Customs officials climbed aboard the vessel and atop the crate to try and open it as a man approached the Governor-General's party and handed Sir Clive a small envelope.

"It came with this, Your Excellency," he said.

Sir Clive opened it, and read the handwritten note inside:

Sir Clive- Thanks for the title man! Enjoy this complimentary nuclear warhead. Regards, Manuelo.The customs officials had managed to break open the crate, and the Governor-General watched expectantly as one of them jumped inside. His arm emerged from the open crate moments later, holding aloft a single popgun.

"Bloody idiots forgot about the blasted time vortex!" said one of the men with the governor.

[The Setting: somewhere in the bowels of the enormous Conclave of Friendship building, located in the slightly seedy part of Sanrio City, the capital of the Eternal Kawaii. A purple-clad Senior Minister sits at his desk, brooding over a bundle of papers in a manila folder. Sitting near him are a couple of blue-clad subordinate otaku, mumbling to each other. The door opens, and in walks ###### (name censored by order of the Conclave of Joy), a young, bookish-looking otaku wearing green robes cut in the style of the Conclave of Beauty.]

"You wanted to see me, your grace?" the younger otaku said nervously. He never was happy dealing with Senior Ministers. Getting a summons from one from a different Conclave was worse; his own superiors had been in an uproar over it.

"Yes, my good fellow," the Senior Minister replied with a calm smile. Dispensing with the formalities, he leaned back and asked, "Tell me--what do you know about exploding penguins?"

The younger priest was taken back a bit. He stammered, "Um...well sir, other than they're usually found on TV sets, not much, I'm afraid."

One of the blue-clad subordinates chuckled and said, "Don't be too hard on yourself, son. You're considered the Eternal Kawaii's leading authority on bird life, aren't you?"

"I've studied it some, yes..."

"Pshaw. You wrote the book on it." The subordinate wasn't joking; the younger otaku's writings were in fact used extensively in the Conclave of Wisdom's educational curriculum.

"May I ask why I'm here, sir?" the young priest said nervously.

The Senior Minister closed the manila folderand pushed it towards him. "Your orders, son. Approved by agreement with the Conclave of Beauty; it's all been arranged."

The younger priest looked nervously at the folder, its label reading, EYES ONLY: PROJECT BIRD BRAIN. He looked at the Senior Minister, and finally said, "...Orders?"

"Yes, son. You're our new nuncio to Omigodtheykilledkenny."

"Nuncio? But I'm no diplomat!"

"If what our NSUN Nuncio has reported is correct, for those yokels you won't need to be. But that's not why you've been selected."

The second subordinate piped up, saying, "That folder will give you the details, but here it is in summary: We have reason to believe there is something funny going on with the penguins in Omigodtheykilledkenny. Wild reports from our NSUN Nuncio about them being armed, possibly explosive. Your job is to track down the truth behind those reports, and report back to us."

The Senior Minister began ticking off possibilities. "First off, of course, is that our good Nuncio has simply gone 'round the bend." The other otaku nodded; the HOCEK UN Nuncio's reputation for eccentricity was well-known among the Conclaves.

"Second, this could be a Manifestation of some kind. Why the Cute One would choose to bless such a hell-hole as Omigodtheykilledkenny I have no idea, but stranger things have been witnessed.

"Third, this could be the revelation of a new avatar species. If so, it's imperative we put these penguins in contact with our Sanrio kittens--this could have cosmic implications.

"Finally, this whole thing could be a cover for some Kennyite weapons-of-mass-destruction program. If that's the case, we need to pass whatever you can dig up on it to the Conclave of Peace, pronto."

The young priest grimaced, and said with resignation, "When do I leave?"

"In 48 hours," the Senior Minister replied. Nodding to the two subordinates, he added, "These two will help with the transportation for you and your entourage. We're sending an undercover platoon of Shirt Ninja along with your regular staff and those, ahem, ladies from the Happiness Police.

"Relax," he added with a chuckle. "I hear Antarctica's beautiful this time of year."

(OOC: I'm not going to be able to compete with some of the previous posts. This isn't especially original, either. Nonetheless, here goes...)

Esteemed Leader,

It has come to our attention that despite considerable cooperation between our two nations in together combating the virulent serpent of the international federalist movement within the United Nations, we have never formally established diplomatic relations. This is a grave shortcoming I seek to rectify immediately, and would like to welcome you to send an ambassador forth at your pleasure.

As you may know, Gruenberg is a devoutly Wenaist nation, and we felt that such religious fervour might not be welcome in your nation. As such, we have sent forth a rare member of the Christian faith. Miss Arakina Spolly underwent conversion on a trip aboard, and has since found accommodating to life in Gruenberg somewhat difficult. We believe that in taking up the mission to Omigodtheykilledkenny, she may be able not only to find a setting more to her pleasure, and also create a diplomatic environment in which our two nations can engage in more open, and understandable discourse.

We look forward to the selection of a return ambassador, and will endeavour to make all appropriate arrangements in advance.

Mikkolic Weltin
pp His High Holiness Grand Sultan Garbad Woltzten IV
The Goat-Shaped Potato Product of Gruenberg

* * * * *

The stewardess sobbed quietly into the arm of her shaking colleague. The flight had only been a matter of hours. But it had been very, very long.

Miss Spolly stepped down from the small plane slowly, coolly adjusting her sunglasses in the hazy glare of the smog-blanketed sun. A small welcome party waved banners bearing poorly-worded greetings and racial slurs. She stood, regarding them for a long time, and then began to walk towards, building her pace from a stately step, to a quick march, to a fiersome charge.

"THEM'S ALL DARKSIDED!" she bellowed.

Rocky Sulla was sitting in his office in Paradise City, drinking a cold Iron City. His brother was right, being an ambassador was easy. So far he was enjoying his stint as ambassador to Omigodtheykilledkenny. The people were great, he found that he still had many fans here. He even found some very good Itallian, Polish, and Hunkie restaraunts near the embassy, so lunch was also good. He would have to see about getting a Primanti Bros.(tm) franchise here though. THe only problem he had was his first day as ambassador when a stuffed shirt from the diplomatic corps suggested that a Burgh Defenestrators jersey, and Palentine Pirates ballcap was not appropriate clothing for an ambassador to wear. One devestating spear of a sack later though and the subject was never brought up again. Even better he found the perfect Deputy Ambassador, a wrestler from the Palentine Woman's division http://ps2media.ign.com/ps2/image/article/540/540538/rumble-roses-20040819051108015.jpg.Yes, life was good.

Fernanda exited his hut to find Jack Riley, his close friend and the nation's UN envoy, waiting for him. He broke into a smile as the two slapped hands and drew close for a quick hug.

"Riley! How's it hanging?" asked the Destructor.

"Well, I hear HOTEK has applied for an embassy exchange," he replied.

"HOTEK?"

"The Holy Otaku of the Eternal Kawaii, Mr. President."

"Ah. So, who are these Kawaii folk, anyway? They Hawaiian, or Polynesian, or something?"

"No, Mr. President. They reside in Anime. Their Nuncio is very active in UN affairs. Very extremist folk, theocratic nutjobs, pretty much."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But the thing is, they are so good at oration, they make psychotic politics sound reasonable. We have yet to find ourselves in disagreement with them. Not even once."

Fernanda brushed off the UN with his hand. "Bah. UN stuff bores me. What else about these people?"

"They're a Hello Kitty-worshiping Taliban, and what's more, they are considering developing nukes."

"Scary. And we haven't invaded them yet?"

"No, Mr. President."

"And what about their ambassador?"

"Mr. President, I've been briefed by the State Department, and they are quite perpelexed as to what he would be doing here, or even what interest HOTEK would have by opening relations with us."

"Any old bum can crash on the couch in this exchange, Jack. I made that clear from Day One. If they got hot chicks, they're pretty much in."

"Well, at best, this is idle curiosity about our nation. At worst, this nuncio to the Federal Republic is a spy."

"A spy from a Hello Kitty-worshiping Taliban with nukes in their scopes?!" The president shuddered.

"Exactly, Mr. President. They won't even release the name of their representative."

"Well, they're a bunch of insane religious fundamentalists with an obsession with morality. Who do we send to speak for us?"

Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: Conclave of Friendship, The Holy Otaku of the Eternal Kawaii

We are pleased to announce that we accept your nuncio's designation, and hereby designate as our ambassador to HOTEK Enid Strict (http://www.danacarvey.net/images/churchlady02.jpg), who has agreed to come out of retirement to take up this important assignment. Be advised that she will require a set in a public-access TV studio to continue with her unique brand of televangelist programming. Well now, isn't that special?

The Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico sends his kindest regards.Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: His High Holiness Grand Sultan Garbad Woltzten IV and the Hon. Mikkolic Weltin

We too are puzzled that two extraordinarily friendly nations as ours have yet to establish formal diplomatic relations, and we applaud your initiatve to amend that anomaly. We are most appreciative of your tireless efforts against the terrible International Federalism serpent, next to the dolphin, our most dangerous foe. We hereby accept Miss Spolly as your envoy, and after much deliberative thought as to who would best represent our interests in your great goatdom, we are delighted to inform you that Stevie Nicks (http://www.spscriptorium.com/Season5/AfghanGoat.jpg) has acceded to our appointment as ambassador.

The Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico sends his kindest regards, and his best wishes for your UN ambassador's health (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=454844).Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

P.S. We like goats. :p

"Of course, Minister," Tehrani replied to the hologram, "we would be happy to establish diplomatic relations with your fine nation. In fact, our envoy is on her way to set up our embassy in L&E right now! If you see that she's been tied to her airplane seat, or muzzled, just ignore it. She's just really excited to be in L&E!"

Few seconds after he virtually shaked his hand, the 3D hollogram of Alex Tehrani vanished. Then Pazu-Lenny received the confirmation from the tax department that all Martin Ruptcor bank accounts in Caymans, Bahamas and St Vincent & The Grenadines have been recovered and finally the president signed Martin Ruptcor's pardon and his liberation from his jail sentences (with conditions).

Pazu-Lenny felt better, this problem was resolved, even if LAE and OMGTKK had many disagreement in the past, LAE has supported OMGTKK's fossil fuel repeal, they have both voted FOR global food and Small Business, and Pazu-Lenny wanted to warm relations with OMGTKK and forget the dolphin dispute.

He arrived at the "Parallel Pacific Esterel International Airport " just before the plane of Janet Kaczmarek landed in the "Land of the Fluffies". Pazu-Lenny noticed that she had a strange mood and seemed not to be happy. He welcomed her warmly and tried to make a joke:
- “Did you like our Sex ed act we passed few months ago?”
But he realized it was maybe a bad move and continued without letting her the time to answer:
“You know I visited 2643 nations in the world so far, but I never went to OMGTKK, I would love so much to visit your nice country, is the nightlife vibrant in OMGTKK?”

In the same time martin Ruptcor arived in OMGTKKK by a regular flight, with a stop-over in The Hibernian Kingdom of Venerable libertarians, as there was not yet direct flight between OMGTKK and LAE.

[The scene: Somewhere in the bowels of the enormous Conclave of Wisdom building, in the more fashionable section of Sanrio City, the capital of the Eternal Kawaii. At the table is seated the purple-clad Senior Minister from the Conclave of Friendship, along with several other senior otaku, wearing robes of various conclaves: Beauty, Joy, Wisdom and Friendship. The CoF Senior minister stands and addresses his fellow priests.]

"This is expected, your graces. Our reports of the Kennyite government's...capriciousness...were well known by all of you. What, exactly, is the problem here?"

A purple-clad Senior Minister from the Conclave of Wisdom scowled, and shot back, "You know very well what the problem is. The 'agreement' you reached with the Kennyites brought an alien religious among us. And the 'terms' you agreed to?" The otaku tossed a piece of paper on the table, a look of disgust on his face:

Department of State
The Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny

Attn: Conclave of Friendship, The Holy Otaku of the Eternal Kawaii

We are pleased to announce that we accept your nuncio's designation, and hereby designate as our ambassador to HOTEK Enid Strict, who has agreed to come out of retirement to take up this important assignment. Be advised that she will require a set in a public-access TV studio to continue with her unique brand of televangelist programming. Well now, isn't that special?

The Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico sends his kindest regards.

Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

Another CoW SM piped up, saying, "Did you really think the Cute One would approve us bringing in a foreign religious to broadcast false doctrines on the Eternal Kawaii's (mtCObp) airwaves?"

The CoF SM waved his hand at the paper, and said, "And so? Don't think you can charge us with heresy here. We know what importance the Cute One attaches to the revelation of Its Manifestations." He glanced up at the end of the table, where a shadowy, black-robed figure sat.

"Don't think you can claim Expediency here..." the CoW SM scowled, but was cut off by a small wave of the black-robed figure's arm.

"Enough," the figure spoke quietly. "There is only one question that matters here. Will the words of this 'ambassador' reach Our people?"

The CoF SM bowed, and said, "Your Holiness. The agreement with OMGTKK states we shall provide a public-access TV studio. It says nothing about which 'public' it will reach. We can arrange for the broadcasts to be blacked out locally. Only heathen foreigners will hear the false doctrines."

"Coming from the lands of the Eternal Kawaii!" snorted the CoW SM.

The CoF SM smiled, and played his trump card. "With modern satellite technology, who can say WHERE the broadcast came from? It can appear to be from anywhere we wish. Maybe from Love and Esterel; I doubt if they'd care."

That seemed to settle the matter. The shadowy figure nodded, and said quietly, "Very well. Let it be done." The CoW SMs seemed put out, but clearly they were not about to protest further. The figure continued, "Now then, next on the agenda. What have we learned about the penguins?"

A Senior Minister from the Conclave of Beauty hemmed and hawwed a bit, and said, "Your Holiness, I'm afraid we haven't received any reports yet..."

"If I might interject, Your Holiness," the CoF SM piped up. "Our new nuncio is having problems getting out of Paradise City. It seems he can't leave without a Happiness Police escort, and their uniforms aren't really designed for Antarctic weather."

All eyes turned to the Senior Minister from the Conclave of Joy, who shrugged and said, "The mini-skirts were their idea, not ours."

The Governor stepped off his yaught and into Tiki Taki, responding to the invitation. He had with him Relp, Webley-Enfield-Lewis, Snipe-Maddox as well as civil servent #1 and civil servent # 2. On the dockside, Dame Elizabeth, Colonel Glenmoray-Laphroaig-Tallisker and a large bulk of flabby flesh that comprised Lord Keynes stood. The music that traditionally preceeded the Governor was played over loud speakers. Well it should have. It actually played Waterloo by ABBA.

"Oops, sorry. Wrong CD. Must have been left in there from the visit by that Knootoss chap. Hang on..." said a man in overalls

"What's a CD?", Colonel Jason Glenmoray-Laphroaig-Tallisker asked Lord Keynes

"It stands for Corp Diplomatique. It must be one of those stickers we have on the back of our cars"

"What does that have to do with music, my lord?"

"How the f..." he was cut off by the actual song (http://www.sonymusic.com/clips/selection/30/045947/045947_01_04_30.wav) coming on. Glenmoray-Laphroaig-Tallisker stood to attention, and the Governor-General disembarked.

"Jolly nice to meet you, Your Excellency" said Lord Keynes, who had never met him before, and bowed.

"Hullo, mate" said Glenmoray-Laphroaig-Tallisker, who had met him before.

"Good day. Now, where do I meet this Destructor fellow?"

"If you'll accompany us in the Rolls-Royce with the Pretty flag on, Your Excellency; we'll also meet the Ambassador there. The rest can follow on in the Lada"

"Splendid. Well, lets go!"


They arrived at the President's hut fifteen minutes later. As Sir Clive walked into the Presidents office, he was confronted by the sight of Dame Elizabeth and President Manuela [Censored by order of Cobdenia] on the desk. Not only that but she was [censored] him by [censored] with a [censored] and he, for his part was attempting to [cenored] with a small turtle.

Relp followed soon after and was aghast at what he saw.
Ten minutes later, having refused to take back what he said about the presidents mother, he was in hospital.

I have been asked by the august and wise Emperor Saul Hudson the Illuminator, Supreme Overlord of Freudotopia, to contact your nation regarding the establishment of cordial diplomatic relations. To that end, I am sending Marcus B. Marcowitz (who is known as Marky Mark) to Paradise City to meet with your Department of State and establish a Freudotopian embassy. If you agree to this proposal, I will further dispatch 75 guards to protect the embassy and its employees. Mr. Marcowitz is a superb diplomat and of impeccable character, and I hope you find his work satisfactory.

Sincerely,
Vergil A. Holstein, Chief Officer of the Freudotopian Diplomatic Corps

Sec. Tehrani strode into the Destructor's hut.

"Mr. President, our ambassador-designate to Freudotopia is here," he announced.

The president rose to greet the frumpy woman with unkempt hair and ruffled clothing who stormed in after the secretary.

"I'm pleased to finally meet you, Mrs. ..."

"Sit down and SHUT UP!!!" she shrieked in reply.

"Umm ... well, we're glad you decided to take this appointment to --"

"I saaaaid, Sit down and shut up!!"

The president sat. "Well, Ambassador, as you can imagine, we're anxious to start relations with Freudotopia right away, so --"

"Take me to the nearest plane and make it snappy, you FREAK-ASS CRACKPOT!!"

"Well, I'm glad we're in agreement; Debbie will make the arrangements." He turned to the secretary. "What a crazy-ass bitch!" he whispered.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!!" the ambassador demanded.

"I said, 'Anna Nicole Smith is lazy and rich,'" he replied.

"Oh," she said plainly. "I think so too."

Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: Emperor Saul Hudson the Illuminator, Supreme Overlord of Freudotopia

We are pleased to announce our ambassador-designate (http://www-atdp.berkeley.edu/Studentpages/nselby/t_202_mscrabtree.jpg) to your fine nation. She should arrive in Freudotopia shortly to establish our embassy, to be guarded by eighteen elite commando penguins.

The Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico sends his kindest regards.Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

The president sat in the stateroom of the Tiki Taki resort, awaiting the arrival of the Cobdenian Governor-General for their state summit, when Sec. Tehrani entered with a small boy.

"Mr. President, this is Kyle McCormick (http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a118/teddygrahams113/kylemccor.jpg), ambassador-designate from Roach-Busters," he said.

The Destructor glared at the boy alarmedly. "It's a ... it's a ... ," he stammered.

"It's a genetically engineered cross between Kyle and Kenny. I'm fightened too, Mr. President."

"Yeesh," the president shuddered. "Get him on the next plane to Omigodtheykilledkenny -- stat!"

"We have time for a short briefing before the Governor-General arrives," Tehrani said as Secret Service agents escorted McCormick from the room. "We are still assessing the damage done to Kenny-Cobdenian relations since that little incident with their foreign minister."

"Ah! Do they know how many teeth they'll have to replace?"

"At least five, sir," the secretary replied. "And reconstructive surgery on his nose and jaw. Luckily, the Tiki-Takians have an amazingly advanced medical system."

Fernanda scoffed. "Shouldn't have said that 'bout my mom."

"Well, your fucking his mistress didn't help matters either, sir."

"Right. But this visit's still going ahead as planned, right?"

"Yes, sir. I've spoken with the Governor-General and members of his senior staff. He's a bit shocked by the incident, but seems ... oddly thrilled by the event. ... And needless to say, you're now a god to the junior members of the Cobdenian diplomatic corps, Mr. President."

Fernanda smiled satisfactorily. "How's the turtle doing?"

"Mr. President?"

"Never mind."

"At any rate, Mr. President, Mrs. Strict is most displeased with the arrangements made for her in The Eternal Kawaii."

"Didn't they put her up in the chapel as she asked?"

"Well, yes ... but the Kawaiian government considers her brand of programming sacrilegious, and refuses to allow her show to air in their country."

The president giggled.

"Right, Mr. President; we were able to tune in to a satellite channel that carried Mrs. Strict's show. Sure it was fuzzy, but you had to admire the way she lit into that Conclave of Wisdom otaku she had on as a guest. He called her false prophet and a Jezebel; she called him an agent of '... oh, I don't know ... could it beeeee ... Satan?!!!' He was still shrieking at her when she got up to do her Superior Dance."

They shared a chuckle as an aid wandered in to announce the arrival of Sir Clive's party.

The Destructor rose and buttoned up his blue suit jacket to greet the Cobdenian dignitaries as they entered along with a gaggle of press, photographers and cameramen. Dame Elizabeth winked at him. The Governor-General approched as the flashbulbs flickered, and Fernanda was immediately stricken by the look of sheer delight on the old man's face. That idiot Relp had taken one to the chin, figuratively and literally.

It had been a rough day for the new HOCEK Nuncio to Omigodtheykilledkenny. Oh sure, getting his embassy staff and entourage fitted with Antarctic cold-weather gear was the easy part. Luckily, the head of the Happiness Police detachment that accompanied the embassy decided that snow-bunny outfits would be perfectly accepted alternative uniforms, so that crisis was averted--at least he could get out of the Paradise City hotel. Arranging for jihi-certified meals for himself and his staff was a tad more difficult, but luckiy the embassy budget had extra padding for just such necessities.

The real problem was locating the embassy grounds. The Kennyite real-estate agent was dumbfounded by the Nuncio's choice of locations.

"That's out in the middle of a freaking snow field, mate! A mile out of town."

"I know."

"There's noone out there but penguins and the occasional wandering maniac."

"I know."

"There are no BABES around there, mate!"

The Nuncio sighed. "I know."

The real-estate agent looked at the robed otaku, and glanced at the two shapely officers in form-fitting ski uniforms flanking him. He nodded and said, "Ah. I think I get yer drift, sir. Not a problem. I can find you a location even more private than this if you're...interested."

Cute One preserve me, the Nuncio thought. He hmm'd, and decided the real-estate agent's attitude could actually be of use. The young priest smiled and said, "Near the penguin colonies? It'd be nice to get in some...bird watching, if we're going to be out in the sticks here."

"Riiiiight, mate. Bird watching," chuckled the real-estate agent. "Say no more, say no more."

Fernanda sat at his desk, his head buried in his hands; the open window behind him let in the inviting island breezes, and the obnoxious, repetitive music from the worshiping natives. It was like banging in his ears. Shut up, he thought. Shut the hell up!! The islander's rhythm section seemed to read his thoughts, and added extra gusto their performance. It rattled in his ears like UN Gnomes with tiny little hammers.

Damn, he was hung over; he'd spent the entire night drinking the Cobdenians under the table. Suddenly, he spotted an uneaten coconut left on his desk from breakfast that morning. He seized it, and hurled it out the window. There was a thud, a groan and the sound of a large man collapsing onto the sand as the music came to a halt. He smiled.

"Mr. President, there's something we should tell you ..."

"God, Alex, can't you come back later?!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but we need to report some bizarre behavior from one of the ambassadors to the Federal Republic," the secretary said. Then he noticed the naked woman passed out on the couch.

"Mr. President, can't you send Dame Elizabeth back to her hut?"

"Oh, what's the big deal? She's always naked!" Fernanda snapped, clutching his temples.

"Well, Mr. President, the Nuncio from The Eternal Kawaii has been acting very strangely since his arrival in the Federal Republic. We've had him under constant surveillance, and it seems he's been traipsing around Paradise City and the surrounding wilderness with two ... uhhh ... well, we think they're Playboy Bunnies, sir."

"Playboy Bunnies, from the Land of Holier-than-Thou?!" The confused look on the president's face turned to a smile, as though a lightbulb had just flicked on above his head.

"Y'know, Alex, Hugh Hefner's been looking for a place for his 'Girls of the Antarctic' shoot for months now, and I think I've found just the site for it. Ask the Nuncio if his embassy will be ready soon."

A man wearing a nicely cut three piece suit entered into Rocky Sulla's office in the Palentine Embassy in Paradise City. He was carrying a small cooler, and a hot-food container. Rocky looked up from his desk, smileed and stood up to embrace the older man.
" Big Bro, what a suprise to see you. I thought you were busy at the UN?"
"BAH! Those souless cretins are probally glad I'm absent. Apparently I've got too much militaristc Maschismo for their liking." Sen Horatio Sulla said. He stood back and looked at his "baby" brother.
"You're looking good Rock. This diplomat stuff treating you right?"
"Yeah, you were right, its easy. So why are you here Bro?"
"Just wanted to see how you are getting along..and to bring you some lunch. Primanti Bros and Iron City. How's that sound."
"Good deal!"
The two men, sat down at the desk and had lunch. Afterwards while they were smoking cigars and engaging in small talk, the Deputy Ambassadorhttp://ps2media.ign.com/ps2/image/article/540/540538/rumble-roses-20040819051108015.jpg knocked on the door. She said, "Oh excuse me Rock, I don't mean to intrude but the Ausserland cultural attache wanted to remind you of the bocce tourney tomorrow, And that you are to bring the Iron." She looked at Sen Sulla and said blushing,
"Its good to finally meet you Senator.", she then left the two men alone.
Rocky laughed,
"You still got it bro."
"Hey, was that Devil Sakai? The Palentine woman's wrestling champion?", Sen Sulla asked his brother.
"Yeah, while I was looking for a deputy I found out she retired from the ring, and was looking for something else to do, so I hired her.", he paused and said, "She's working out well. She has even broken a few noses and arms of junior State Department officials who try to pinch her behind."
Senator Sulla replied," Interesting Idea bro. You know Texas Jack finally retired. I think he'll make a good deputy ambassador for me in the UN"http://www.obsessedwithwrestling.com/pictures/t/terryfunk/07.jpg
Both men laughed.

The HOCEK Nuncio to Omigodtheykilledkenny took a moment to pat himself on the back. Figuratively speaking, of course; now was hardly the time to become a flagellant. Yes, that was definitely a brainwave hat-trick, he thought. The real-estate agent had taken his bait perfectly.

The new HOCEK Embassy was in the process of being set up on what had been one of Omigodtheykilledkenny's more stylish (in that its walls were not lined with beer cans and animal heads) ski lodges. The price was exorbitant, far more than what the embassy's budget had called for, but in a fit of inspiration (brainwave #1) the Nuncio realized that the parts of the lodge not actually needed for diplomatic work could still serve as a resort. Paying Kennyite customers could easily offset the extra expense, especially once he cajoled (brainwave #2) the Happiness Police detachment into serving as concierges. Of course, the customers would have to abide by the strict Kawaiian rules against alcohol and drugs, but (brainwave #3) what better way to make the rules more palatable than to convince the rubes that it was for their health? Especially with the platoon of Shirt Ninja conveniently disguised as fitness instructors. And while all this was going on, who would notice the Nuncio slipping out back for an occasional excursion to the nearby penguin colonies?

And so the HOCEK OMGTKK Embassy and Kawaiian Health Spa was opened.

Of course, as with every grand opening, there were a few glitches. Particularly when a man claiming to be a "closer personal friend of President Fernanda" showed up with a camera crew and started asking about "candid shots of the girls of the Eternal Kawaii." But a few well-placed HP mallets quickly convinced the more boisterous of the camera men that geisha are not THAT kind of girl...

We apologize for the delay in appointing an ambassador to your nation. It took awhile for the paper work to be approved by our Parliament and the people. However, all has been worked out and as such we are sending ambassador Larry Spearhead. Yes he is related to me. He is my brother and me and the people of our great nation have decided that he has annoyed us enough so will be sending him along as ambassador to you so that he can be as annoying and lazy as he wants. Please do not talk to Larry as the first word out of his mouth will not only piss you off but, make you question his intelligence. We apologize for this ahead of time. Larry always was the bad apple of our family.

To make sure you have to deal with Larry as little as possible we have appointed an Assistant-Ambassador named George Patton. George is among the best of the ambassadors we have and he’ll take care of anything you need that has to do with our nation. George will have a staff of 24 of our diplomatic core and 6 MP’s for security.

P.S. I met your relative that is ambassador to our nation and I have to say I find him a lot less annoying then I do my brother. Would you also like to exchange relatives while were exchanging embassies?

Sincerely, Winston Spearhead

P.S. I met your relative that is ambassador to our nation and I have to say I find him a lot less annoying then I do my brother. Would you also like to exchange relatives while were exchanging embassies?No. :)

Don't know how much you've read, but it seems this entire embassy exchange is just a bunch of nations trying to offload irritating relatives and/or government officials on us, so Mr. Spearhead will fit right in here. We'll put him up in the Exiled Annoying Relatives Section of Paradise City's Embassy District. It may be stretched to overflowing by now, but don't worry; we'll make room. We'll expand into the Drag Queens, Ex-cons and Freaks of Nature Section if need be.

We accept Messrs. Spearhead and Patton.

Deep within the armored bowels of the Royal palace sat a very scared monarch.

"It was horrible Miranda," King Erasmus Er said. The disturbed monarch sat on the carpeted floor of his office, with his back leaning against his desk. In one hand he held a smokeable relaxant drug. Running a hand through his hair the King shuddered. "He said he's thinking about changing his name to '2-Nastay". That is no way for the nephew of the King to behave."

Miranda, secretary and confidant to the King nodded her head sagely and said "I'm sure its just a phase m’lord."

The monarch ignored her "Do you know what he told me?" Before Miranda could open her mouth the King continued "He said he's from the 'street' and that 'he be hangin with his homies'. The Street! The boy grew up in a mansion for G-d's sake! For his seventeenth birthday his mother bought him his own dog ranch! And his 'homies' are those twin sons of that tycoon, Lord Whatsisname. He's no more from the street than I am." As the rant continued a capillary in the Kings's eye burst and he took another medicinal drag from relaxarrete.

Miranda let a near inaudible sigh, the King's rants could last for hours if uninterrupted, and they nearly always ended in someone being set on fire or the King snorting the poor unfortunate's ashes. "Sir, if your nephew is vexing you so much why don't you have him sent away. I'm sure you could find something he could do away from the capital."

The King grinned wildly and leapt atop the desk with apelike agility and began to do his 'happy dance'. "Miranda you’re a genius! I'll send him so far away he won't be able to utter a single sheeit before he's gone!" The king suddenly stopped his happy dance, his Relaxarrete flying from his hands. "But where?"

Miranda smiled widely, showing diamond studded teeth "I know just the place...".



To: The Noble and Delightful Nation of Ohmygodtheykiled Kenny

We would like to establish diplomatic ties with your esteemed and aromatic nation. If possible we would like to establish embassies in the capitals of both our great nations. Our choice for the important duty of ambassadorship is Archibald '2-Nastay' Er, nephew of the King himself. Ambassador Er would also like to mention that he will require extra room in the embassy for both his 'posse' and a place where he can lay down his 'phat beats bizzatch'.


Robert Cornwallice
High Lord Minister of Diplomatic Affairs

The president sighed after reading the message from the Metaddan government. "I'm starting to think that maybe dispatching Temoc (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=10041271#post10041271) to United Earthlings was not best idea. No sooner do we get rid of an embarrassing relative that another nation sends one right back to us!"

"Like I told you before, karma's a bitch, Mr. President."

Fernanda looked up at his secretary of state. "So, Alex, who do you have in mind as ambassador to the royal court of Metaddan?"

Tehrani dropped a file on the president's desk. "This is Jeremy Hunter (http://batteri.altervista.org/imm/Pretty_fly.gif). The music industry says he's downloaded at least 3,000 illegal MP3 files, and they want us to get rid of him."

"I don't have to do what the music industry says! That's what they get for endorsing my opponent!"

"That may be, sir, but there are some issues at play here that need to be addressed."

"But filesharing is legal here. Riley even told me that a UN bill to outlaw it was defeated."

"Sharing legal files online is legal, sir, not piracy."

"And they can prove that this kid has illegal files?"

"No, but they will sue him for 3 million tree-fiddys unless we dispatch him abroad."

"That's the kid's parents' problem, not mine."

"They also threaten to unleash another awful boy-band act on the nation if we do not get rid of this kid."

"Off he goes."

Sec. Tehrani dared interrupt the president during one of his busy massage sessions on the beach.

"Oh, yeah, Mia, that's the spot! Don't stop, baby, don't stop!" the president moaned as he lay on his stomach, allowing the native girl's talented hands to battle his tense shoulder muscles.

"Mr. President, some vital intelligence we need to report to you."

"Damn, you Tiki Taki girls sure got deep voices," the president marveled, his eyes still closed.

"Mr. President?"

Fernanda opened his eyes and turned his head just enough to see Tehrani's feet on the sand. He groaned. "This better be good."

"It's not good at all, sir; we now have evidence that the Kawaiians are spying on us, after all."

The president scoffed. "Yeah, they're engaging in international espionage while running a health spa!"

"Exactly, Mr. President. We believe this health spa is a mere front for their espionage operation. It's a distraction from the fact that their Nuncio keeps disappearing into the wilderness for elongated periods of time."

"You sure he's not taking none of those Playboy Bunnies back there with him?"

"Unless penguins can be Playboy Bunnies, I doubt it, sir. He's studying our natives ... the military-grade ones."

Fernanda shifted his body alarmedly in order to face his secretary of state. "Those genetic modifications are a state secret--"

He was suddenly mindful that a woman without the propoer security clearance was still in their presence. He turned to face her; she smiled serenely down on him.

"You don't speak English, do you, baby?"

She only smiled.

"That's not the only thing, Mr. President. Their geisha apparently assaulted a few Playboy photographers."

"What?!" the president was growing angrier. "If that's not an act of provocation, I don't know what is!" He looked sullen. "And they ruined a perfectly good skiing lodge, too. We can't get drunk there no more."

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Well, how do we respond to this menace?"

"We've told the hare krishnas and the airport missionaries that a brand new terminal has just opened up at the HOTEK OMGTKK Embassy and Kawaiian Health Spa."

The Destructor smiled. "Excellent."

The HOCEK Nuncio to OMGTKK shuffled off his parka and kicked off his snowshoes, and headed for one of the nearby jacuzzis that the ski lodge / HOCEK Embassy seemed to have in abundance. He was not particulary impressed with the display of secular decadence, but they did make good ablution chambers and let's face it, a warm soak does anyone good, whether heathen or a faithful Kawaiian. He hmmed to himself as he gathered up his bathing kit. I don't think I can keep this up much longer. I'm almost certain the Kennyites are tracking me now, that last "conversation" with the penguins seemed to confirm it. He was quietly impressed with the success he had achieved so far. Thankfully this was not a Manifestation as the Conclave of Friendship had feared--merely ordinary penguins apparently having undergone some strange technological augmentation. The Minister did get it right on the last try, he thought with a grin. A weapons of mass destruction program, indeed. Well, we'll see what can be done with that...

The Nuncio's musings were interrupted by the sudden chanting of "Hari Krishna, Hari Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hari Hari..." seeming to come from the lower floors. A Happiness Police officer, dressed in a formal kimono affair, hurried up the stairs and shouted, "Your grace, your grace! We're being invaded!"

"By what, bad karaoke singers?" the Nuncio retorted, and suddenly got a newspaper shoved in his face.

CIVIL WAR IN ETERNAL KAWAII
HOCEK ASKS FOR FOREIGN ASSISTANCE

Sanrio City, The Eternal Kawaii (Paradise City Town Crier) - The growing chaos in the Eternal Kawaii has reached international levels, as the HOCEK government issued a plea for international aid against the rampaging hordes of Sanrio kittens which are systematically destroying the nation's capital. President Fernanda recently authorized....

The Nuncio was dumbstruck. Rampaging Sanrio kittens? The Conclave of Friendship actually asking foreigners for help? What kind of idiotic propaganda ploy was this?

He turned to the Happiness Police officer, who obviously was anticipating his question. "I don't know, your grace. All communication with the homeland has been cut off."

We apologize for any delay in responding with the name of our ambassador, for we are torn apart by three wars right now. The ambassador will be Dr. Caecilius Durantum (39), my brother and respected colleague. He attended school for law, and received a masters degree, then attended for 8 more to receive his Ph D in Diplomacy. He has worked in the General Ministry for 7 years, acheiving the status 'Deputy Attorney General.'

Sincerely,
Cornelius Durantum
Minister of International Relations

Minister Dorantum:

We can understand the strains that unexpected events can have on diplomacy; we ourselves were until just recently tied up in a war with the chap just a couple posts up. The Destructor hereby accepts Dr. Durantum's (impressive) credentials, although, given the state of "family matters" in this thread, and the "fitness" for the job of most of the nepotistic appointees to this nation, your brother is extremely overqualified. :D

The Destructor sends his kindest regards.

~Alex Tehrani

Mr. Tehrani,

We regret to inform you that Ambassador Sheik Ocifingam bin Cluich has been recalled to Cluichabad. We will dispatch a replacement for him as soon as possible.

Respectfully,
Foreign Minister Sheik Retep bin Cluich

To President Fernando,

The Sea-Faring Nomadic People's of Hou Mian humbly request the opening of formal diplomatic relations with your magnificent nation. Our ambassador to your great country would be Mao Qiguai, one of the heads of our Wufa tribe. He understands as well as I do that we must open up to the outside world, and as you are recognized as one of the most important, powerful nations within our universe, and though we recognize our own unworth, we crave the chance to do business with you.

Mao Qiguai would bring with him his family (one wife and one son), a bodyguard for each, one linguist translator, and a secretary.

Further staff would be:

2 cultural officers, to help arrange program exchanges and promote greater international understanding.

5 political officers, to help facillitate cooperation between our two nations.

5 consular officers, to help any Mianish who come to visit your great nation.

5 economic officers, to help pave the way for lowering any barriers that may exist between our nations.

And lastly, 10 people in administrative roles.

Further more, we would like to place 4 military officers and 30 troops there, to provide additional security if it should ever be needed. (This makes a total of 69 people.)

Moreover, we would like to humbly take the advice so graciously offered by your magnificence, and send along as well one armored car for travel within the city.

We do have one additional request, which we will gladly reciprocate. We would like rights of extra-territoriality with regards to our embassy. This is so our citizens there can feel the sense of ease only found when at home. As mentioned, we will gladly give you extra-territoriality within the Omigodtheykilledkenny embassy in Hou Mian.

Thank you for your attention,
Fu Huangdi
Khaghan of Hou Mian
Khan of Fubai Tribe

( http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Hou_Mian )

[OOC: I refuse point-blank to formalize this arrangement until you tell me what your ambassador's name means. :p]

Behind his desk, President Fernanda giggled at the cutie sitting on his lap, relieved that the unusually slow day had finally given him a chance to kick back, relax, and get it on. "That's right, baby," he cooed at his companion: "No one's gonna bother me with actual work today; we have all the time in the world to --"

He looked up and Sec. Tehrani was standing over them, clutching State documents. Fernanda groaned.

"This better be good, Alex."

"Mr. President, Hou Mian wishes to send an ambassador."

"Who the hell are they?"

"A UN nation that cropped up recently, which incidentally boasts officials with the naughtiest names we have ever heard. Their stance on UN affairs is--"

"Oh, shut up about the UN, Alex; you know I only bother visiting that cesspit of gnomish corruption when the Thessadorian ambassador's in heat."

"Right, sir. They have sent a very complimentary embassy offer."

"The UN?"

"No! ... erm, no, sir, the Hou Mianese." He tossed the file across his desk. Fernanda picked up Hou Mian's diplomacy offer and began perusing it:

The Sea-Faring Nomadic People's of Hou Mian humbly request the opening of formal diplomatic relations with your magnificent nation. Our ambassador to your great country would be Mao Qiguai, one of the heads of our Wufa tribe. He understands as well as I do that we must open up to the outside world, and as you are recognized as one of the most important, powerful nations within our universe, and though we recognize our own unworth, we crave the chance to do business with you."'One of the most important, powerful nations within the universe'? What are these freaks on? We're a pissant little nation that bullies around smaller nations for fun--errrr, 'to protect our national security interests.'"

"Shhh! ... they don't know that, Mr. President. Their delusions of (our) grandeur will be highly valuable for extracting ridiculous concessions out of them should we ever need to resort to ... erm, aggressive diplomacy."

"That's what the Stripper Commandos are for, Alex." Fernanda paused and he looked closer at the document. "This ... Mao Qiguai; she hot?"

Tehrani sighed. "He's a man, sir."

"What does his name mean?"

"We don't know, sir, and frankly, we don't want to know. Cable news networks are already telling us that they refuse to state his name on national television. ... At any rate, given the current vote on the UN floor, we deem it most appropriate that we send an unmistakable message to the world about the scourge of international terror by dispatching Mr. Aziz to their seafaring tribal commune. Incidentally, he's still free, and he's still here, since the Azazians callously rejected him as our envoy."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get him the hell out of here!"

Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: His Excellency ["Censored"], Khaghan of Hou Mian, Khan of Fubai Tribe

We hereby accept your generous offer of diplomacy, and your embassy detail, and intend to respond in kind. We will dispatch Mr. Hamid Aziz, a respectable, erm, "activist" who has been recruited into our diplomatic corps. Of course, by "recruited," we mean, "forced," and by "diplomatic corps," we mean, "exile." Incidentally, by our terming him an "activist," we mean, "suspected terrorist," and by "suspected terrorist," we mean, "freedom fighter," and by "freedom fighter," we mean, "any Kennyite holding a gun," and by "any Kennyite holding a gun," we mean, "any Kennyite, period." What were we talking about again? Oh, yes. The embassy exchange. Unfortunately, Mr. Aziz's assignment to a certain commune of insolent fools was rejected by the humorless gits in that nation's government, and we don't understand why. It's not like he's a threat to anyone or anything! (By "not a threat," we mean, "threat," and by "anything," we mean, "an embassy," and by "not," we mean, "blew up," and by "an embassy," we mean, "three embassies.") Anyway, Mr. Aziz's dance card is free, and he can start tangoing with your lovely people. Yay!

http://us.news3.yimg.com/us.i2.yimg.com/p/afp/20060126/capt.sge.eor65.260106210350.photo00.photo.default-380x259.jpg
Mr. Aziz

Our envoy will arrive in Guanxi well protected ("bound and gagged") and accompanied ("escorted") by twenty of our finest Erotic Special Operations Forces Members ("Stripper Commandos"), who will protect ("guard") our ambassador ("scumbag") and our embassy ("prison"). Mr. Aziz will not be permitted to leave embassy grounds or even his quarters ("cell") at any time for any reason, and we strongly caution you not to talk to him, look at him, breathe the same air as him, or stand within 50 feet of him. If you wish to treat with our nation, by all means, treat with Commander Josepha Daniels, who will serve as the security attache ("warden") for our embassy. In closing, you should know that to us Mr. Aziz is a national treasure ("alarming security threat"), and we are very regretful ("relieved") that he must spend the remainder of his days aimlessly drifting out to sea with a bunch of scummy foreigners ("nice guys, we're sure").

The Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico, sends his kindest regards.Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

[OOC: I refuse point-blank to formalize this arrangement until you tell me what your ambassador's name means. :p]


OOC: My creativity was kinda sapped when I wrote his name, so it just means "weird cat." Now the tribe he's from, on the other hand, is the Wufa tribe, which is a small bit from a Chinese saying (I'm not making this up) "Monk with an umbrella--No hair, no sky" which means "Someone who follows no laws, human or divine." So, he's a troublemaker too, but as a citizen of Hou Mian more polite than your Mister Aziz.


We hereby accept your generous offer of diplomacy, and your embassy detail, and intend to respond in kind. We will dispatch Mr. Hamid Aziz, a respectable activist who has been recruited into our diplomatic corps. Unfortunately, Mr. Aziz's assignment to a certain commune of insolent fools was rejected by the humorless gits in that nation's government, and we don't understand why. It's not like he's a threat to anyone or anything! Anyway, Mr. Aziz's dance card is free, and he can start tangoing with your lovely people. Yay!

If it pleases your magnificence, we can help in the construction of a floating embassy some small distance off from Guanxi proper. Our nation is mostly Sea-Faring, and this would give Mr. Aziz a more thorough understanding of our culture and customs. (Not to mention make it harder for him to try to escape...) Moreover, your commandos are most welcome, and we look forward to their company.

Enclosed, you shall find some wonderful crates of our national liquors, plus some restored furniture of authentic Hou Mianish classical style. (OOC: I just found out I have one of the strongest furniture refinishing industries in the world, and figured I ought to do something with it.)

Duoxie,
Fu Huangdi (OOC: This only means Emperor Fu)
Khaghan of Hou Mian
Khan of Fubai Tribe (OOC: Meaning Chief of the Corruption Tribe)

Upon discovering that Omigodtheykilledkenny and Teruchev were founded almost simultaneously, President Steve Perry, who takes note of things like this, contacted President Fernanda with greetings of goodwill and a humble request for a "sister nations" agreement. He was directed to the One-Stop Diplomacy Shop.

Our nation humbly requests diplomatic relations. Upon successful receipt of this application, we will see what useless bum, I mean, esteemed diplomatic officer, will be appointed Ambassador.

Sincerely,

Steve Perry, GCRC,
President.

[OOC: Don't take anything posted here as an insult; my president's just an insufferable brute. :p]

President Fernanda grumbled as the secretary of state entered his office. He really hated it when Tehrani would interrupt his workdays with actual work.

"Make it snappy, Alex," the Destructor groaned. "I got a 'diplomatic call' from the Cluichstani government this afternoon."

"Mr. President, the Teruchevan president has sued for a sister-nations arrangement," Tehrani said.

"The Whozzit president?"

"Teruchevan," replied the secretary. "The ones who sponsored the Auto Free Trade Agreement."

"Ah, yes," said Fernanda. "Unlimited global trade of awesome pimped-out cars and all that good stuff; how'd that thing go over with the General Assembly, anyway?"

"Actually, sir, it failed miserably."

"What?!" roared the Destructor. "Those worthless pissants!! Why do we still bother with them, anyway? I thought we resigned."

"We did, sir, but Riley still has thousands of dollars worth of unpaid CPESL commissions to cover."

"And what's with this 'sister-nations' thing, anyway? Sounds fruity."

"We can call it anything you want, Mr. President," Tehrani sighed. "'Drunken frat-boy nations,' 'College dorm roommate nations drooling over issues of "Playboy,"' whatever. We just need to give them a response."

Fernanda was perusing the dossier on President Perry. "I see the Cobdenians have decorated him, too: What about the 'Brothers of the Iron Cross?'"

"You mean 'the Knight Grand Cross,' Mr. President?"

"Yeah, whatever," Fernanda said dismissively. "I knew it was something white supremacy-esque."

Tehrani rolled his eyes. "Can I make the arrangements, then?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

Tehrani turned to leave just as Debbie walked in with a disdainful look on her face. "Mr. President, your 4 o'clock is here," she said disgustedly. "The Cluichstani representative?"

Just then, a hot Latina in leather garb charged into Fernanda's office and cracked her whip against the floor.

"Oooooh, baby," the Destructor growled.

To:Secretary of State of Omigodtheykilledkenny
From: Foreign Ministry of Khailfah al Muslimeen

The Imperial Government of KLM request to open formal relations with your nation, our Ambassador to your nation will be Dr. Husayn Bashkim Spiridon(32 years old), He is of Greco-Turkish background, he has a PhD in political science and has a scimitar with the following words imprinted into it saying the following in Arabic. “ I’m going to kill you!”

He will come to your nation with 20 staff members and 40 guards.

Signed
Foreign Minister Farhri Koruturk (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v504/Ottoman01/mishkin1.jpg)

[OOC: Don't take anything posted here as an insult; my president's just an insufferable brute. :p]

President Fernanda grumbled as the secretary of state entered his office. He really hated it when Tehrani would interrupt his workdays with actual work.

"Make it snappy, Alex," the Destructor groaned. "I got a 'diplomatic call' from the Cluichstani government this afternoon."

"Mr. President, the Teruchevan president has sued for a sister-nations arrangement," Tehrani said.

"The Whozzit president?"

"Teruchevan," replied the secretary. "The ones who sponsored the Auto Free Trade Agreement."

"Ah, yes," said Fernanda. "Unlimited global trade of awesome pimped-out cars and all that good stuff; how'd that thing go over with the General Assembly, anyway?"

"Actually, sir, it failed miserably."

"What?!" roared the Destructor. "Those worthless pissants!! Why do we still bother with them, anyway? I thought we resigned."

"We did, sir, but Riley still has thousands of dollars worth of unpaid CPESL commissions to cover."

"And what's with this 'sister-nations' thing, anyway? Sounds fruity."

"We can call it anything you want, Mr. President," Tehrani sighed. "'Drunken frat-boy nations,' 'College dorm roommate nations drooling over issues of "Playboy,"' whatever. We just need to give them a response."

Fernanda was perusing the dossier on President Perry. "I see the Cobdenians have decorated him, too: What about the 'Brothers of the Iron Cross?'"

"You mean 'the Knight Grand Cross,' Mr. President?"

"Yeah, whatever," Fernanda said dismissively. "I knew it was something white supremacy-esque."

Tehrani rolled his eyes. "Can I make the arrangements, then?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

Tehrani turned to leave just as Debbie walked in with a disdainful look on her face. "Mr. President, your 4 o'clock is here," she said disgustedly. "The Cluichstani representative?"

Just then, a hot Latina in leather garb charged into Fernanda's office and cracked her whip against the floor.

"Oooooh, baby," the Destructor growled.

Excellent. We eagerly await a formal reply from the Kennyites on a "Brothers of the Knight Grand Cross" arrangement.

President Perry suggests a formal signing ceremony here in our capital, Troxville, where we will trade ambassadors, followed by a private chat over a fine glass of Teruchevan rye whiskey.

Sincerely,

Alphonse B. Egbert,
Foreign Affairs Liaison,
Ambassador-designate, Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny.

Excellent. We eagerly await a formal reply from the Kennyites on a "Brothers of the Knight Grand Cross" arrangement.

President Perry suggests a formal signing ceremony here in our capital, Troxville, where we will trade ambassadors, followed by a private chat over a fine glass of Teruchevan rye whiskey.Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyIndeed, we would be most amenable to a "Brothers of the Knight Grand Cross" arrangement, if you can answer these questions three: In the episode of "The Simpsons" where Lisa is expelled from Springfield Elementary for inciting a student strike, at what e-mail address does she say her friends can reach her?
In the episode of "South Park" where Rosie O'Donnell comandeers a kindergarten class election, what fate awaits her?
...Ah, screw it. We're too lazy to think up a third question; just make it up yourself and answer it, along with the other two, and we'll be happy to dispatch Vice President Morgan to Troxville for the signing of the official sister-nations dealy and guzzling whiskey and such.Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

We are sending an Ohyayian ambassador. His name is Marcus Ohyay and he will be arriving soon. He is especially interested in setting up offshore businesses, data havens, offshore banking, and similar operations. We will pay well for our privacy. We would like full ambassadorial immunity from prosecution and a non-extradition treaty for Marcus and his associates.

Regards,

Malthus Cruon, Minister of Special Services

"Mr. President, it's not like many people will notice that another criminal is in Paradise City," Tehrani tried in vain to console his boss.

"But they're demanding total immunity from prosecution!" Fernanda fumed, as he continued angrily to pace back and forth behind his desk. "These Commoninaliatrianriantaitanarians, whoever they are, wanna dump one of their bad-seeds on me, and leave us powerless to deal with him if he steps out of line!"

"Well, we've managed to pull off a few karmic ambassador exchanges in this program already; what's the harm with attempting one more?" the secretary said craftily.

"What do you mean?"

"We've been trying to offload Dr. Malice (http://www.thatsstupid.net/pie/images/Dr._Evil.jpg) on other nations for years now; I think this may prove the opportunity to get rid of him!"

"Oh, no! Oh, no! Not another harebrained scheme to exile a notorious comic international criminal mastermind! It's just too ham-handed; they'll see right through it!"

"You leave the schematics to me, Mr. President; if we can foist Frau Gratwick (http://img154.exs.cx/img154/3033/catherinegratwick3vk.jpg) on an unsuspecting young nation, we can certainly rid the Federal Republic of Dr. Malice in a similar fashion ..."

Fernanda paused thoughtfully. "We'll be demanding a similar immunity arrangement for him?"

"Of course, Mr. President."

"Now Mr. President ..."

"But, Alex, they're terrorists! Just look at this dossier on them! They have 'Islamic' in their name!"

"Mr. President, already in this program you've been accused of fucking three female ambassadors; we have had an ambassador blow up and kill the Cobdenian governor-general; we have gone to war with a kitten-worshiping theocracy over the suspicious activities of their envoy; you have beaten up the Cobdenian foreign minister, and the Cluichstani ambassador has been accused of selling state secrets to batshit insane 'Dr. Who'-types. Are you really worried about one little terrorist agent crossing our borders?"

"But we don't know anything about these people!" Fernanda protested.

"Sir, I admit our intelligence on their nation is fairly nill, but we can greatly expand our understanding of their character, links and motives, if we accept an embassy exchange ..."

"How so?"

"We have our ways, Mr. President."

Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: Minister Koruturk, KLM Imperial Government

The Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico, hereby accepts your suit for an embassy exchange, and designates Dr. A.C. Bandit (http://www.vicalejandro.com/images/Secret%20Service.jpg) as ambassador to the Imperial Government. For 15 years, Dr. Bandit served as a highly decorated covert agent for our government, and we have elected to reward his years of honorable service with a cushy ambassador job. We're certain you will agree he is of most impeccable character, and a greatly amenable choice as diplomat to your fine federation. We wish to allay your fears right now if Dr. Bandit seems to be engaging in suspicious behavior during his service, or appears to be wired, or disappears inexplicably for undue lengths of time -- his life as a secret agent has taught him to be most ... er, diligent, when dealing with leaders of foreign nations. Incidentally, our embassy in KLM will be guarded by a specially trained and, er, endowed Exotic Special Operations Forces Team of 20 officers, women of exceptional talent and skill. And did we mention their ample endowment?Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyIndeed, we would be most amenable to a "Brothers of the Knight Grand Cross" arrangement, if you can answer these questions three: In the episode of "The Simpsons" where Lisa is expelled from Springfield Elementary for inciting a student strike, at what e-mail address does she say her friends can reach her? smartgirl63@yahoo.com, at yahoo.com!
In the episode of "South Park" where Rosie O'Donnell comandeers a kindergarten class election, what fate awaits her? Uh, who's Rosie O'Donnell? :p
...Ah, screw it. We're too lazy to think up a third question; just make it up yourself and answer it, along with the other two, and we'll be happy to dispatch Vice President Morgan to Troxville for the signing of the official sister-nations dealy and guzzling whiskey and such.Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

For my third question, I shall ask and answer the following question:

"What is the air-speed velocity of a swallow carrying a coconut?"
President Perry: African or European?

Excellent, then. We shall roll out the tastefully affordable red carpet for the arrival of your vice-president, on a mutually agreed-upon date.

Sincerely,

Alphonse B. Egbert,
Foreign Affairs Liaison,
Ambassador-designate, Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny.

The following letter was origionally recieved in Enochian, and translated and adapted to be readable

From: The Office of the Arch Arsonist
To: Manuelo Fernanda, President
CC: Alex Tehrani, Secrectary of State
Subject: Prisoner/Ambassador Exchange

Greetings, I am the Arch Arsonist, Carpathia Ziemowit. I would like to send you an ambassador and staff. Our ambassador to your country will be convicted pyromaniac, Wilhelm "Trogdor" Kornel, with a diplomatic staff of 20, with 100 prison guards to keep armed bands of your citizenry from entering the compound, or to keep him in. We aren't sure. He is a 6 foot 5 brute of a man deemed unfit for human society. While we certaintly encourage small, random acts of fire (RAF) in Mer Des Ennuis, burning a small city is a bit much. He also speaks something like a drunken scottsman, though he is ethnically Polish. In return for allowing us to construct a class 10 containment facility/embassy, capable of repelling a large army with a variety of heavy arms and armor. As consolation, we will give your ambassador/mass murderer a room in the luxurious Castle of the Swamp, located on the pristine expanse of the Mer Des Ennuis Napalm Proving Grounds/Artillery Range.

As for your personal use, we have sent a crate of assorted liquors, primarily of the Captain Morgan and Johnny Walker Red type. We have also sent a half dozen of our finest women to persuade you to accecpt these terms.

Sincerely,
Carpathia Ziemowit
Arch Arsonist

Hello,
We will gladly accept Dr. Malice and even give him his own personal three story floating domed barge with all amenities included. We have some use for his employment by the Minister of Special Services, Malthus Cruon. Included will be free kitty litter for his cat, and special accomodations for his personal servant whether he be giant or very short. We are most thankful for this offer.

Best regards,

Felix Cruonis, Minister of Trade

"Mr. President," Tehrani announced his entrance to Fernanda's office.

"Alex," Fernanda replied. "How'd I know you'd show up?"

"I'm pleased to tell you the Commonalitarianists have agreed to imprison Dr. Malice for the time-being ..."

"Good."

"... Also, the Teruchevans have passed our test, and we can finally finalize this brother-nations thingy."

"Excellent. So they answered all the questions correctly?"

"Er, actually, no. But they were dumb enough to humor us, and apparently they are 'Simpsons' fans ..."

"Sounds good enough to me," Fernanda said as he glanced at the Teruchevan reply sitting on his desk. ... "Umm, I don't get this last question they wrote in at the bottom ..."

"What is the air-speed velocity of a swallow carrying a coconut?"
President Perry: African or European?"Oh, that," Tehrani briefly looked at the document. "It's just ... Teruchevan humor, or something. Kennyites aren't expected to get it, I don't think. We mostly respond to fart jokes and such."

Fernanda giggled. "You remember that episode of 'The Simpsons' where Lisa's supposed to design the new state flag, and Bart rearranges all the letters so they say 'Learn to fart'? Hehehe, that was funny."

Tehrani laughed.

"Well," the president continued, "only thing left's the trip to Troxville to sign the treaty. Hope Antigone likes Teruchevan weather."

"Actually, Mr. President, State figures you are a better choice to represent us. I mean, you are the elected leader, and you are the decorated Knight Grand Cross recipient ..."

"But I hate flying! Besides, I got some, uhh ... things ... to tend to 'round here."

"The Playboy Channel will be here when you get back, Mr. President," Tehrani noted with an annoyed sigh.

"Fine." The president leaned closer to the secretary. "Incidentally, do ... uhh ... the Cluichstanis have any ... uhh ... business in Teruchev?"

Tehrani sighed again. "I don't know, sir."

Fernanda cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. "And what about the ambassador exchange?"

"Well, the Teruchevans have designated this Alphonse Egbert to represent them here."

"And us?"

"Well, we have found someone perfect for the job. He's the CEO of Torrance Motors, Mr. Brendan Aragon. He'll be accompanying you to Troxville."

"'Sup, fools?" announced a college-aged boy as he cockily strode into the office in a FUBU shirt, grasping his crotch.

"Who the hell are you?" Fernanda demanded of the stranger.

"Mr. President, this is Mr. Aragon, our ambassador-designate," Tehrani introduced him.

Fernanda leaned in toward the secretary. "This guy owns a car company?" he whispered.

"Yes," Tehrani whispered back. "He inherited it from his grandfather, and the board has been trying to get rid of him for months now."

"We can't send this kid over to represent our brother nation!" Fernanda protested.

"You have no choice, Mr. President; many on the board were heavy contributors to your last campaign."

"Which makes me their bitch, I suppose?"

"Exactly."

Aragon was distracted by his surroundings, nodding satisfyingly to himself as he examined the president's office. "Man, you straight-pimpin' up in here, dawg! This shit is tight!"

Fernanda leaned in toward the secretary again. "He does realize he is white?" he inquired.

"Uhh, I wouldn't want to disappoint him by telling him that, Mr. President."

"Right."

"And Mr. President, since this is a Brothers in the Knight Grand Cross agreement, we figure it would be appropriate if a Cobdenian rep were on hand to witness the ceremony."

"Heidy-ho!" sang a shapely woman as she appeared behind Aragon, completely naked save for her DCRC regalia.

"Mr. President, you remember Dame Elizabeth (http://www.3djeweler.com/wipm/images/eckley/Grace_Kelly_02_lg.jpg), the Cobdenian ambassador?"

"How could I forget?" Fernanda smiled slyly. "We knew each other ... many times."

Aragon smiled approvingly at the statuesque beauty. "I'd hit that!" he declared.

http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a118/teddygrahams113/wigger-15344.jpg
Brendan Aragon
OMGTKK Ambassador-designate to Teruchev

Greetings, I am the Arch Arsonist, Carpathia Ziemowit. I would like to send you an ambassador and staff. Our ambassador to your country will be convicted pyromaniac, Wilhelm "Trogdor" Kornel, with a diplomatic staff of 20, with 100 prison guards to keep armed bands of your citizenry from entering the compound, or to keep him in. We aren't sure. He is a 6 foot 5 brute of a man deemed unfit for human society. While we certaintly encourage small, random acts of fire (RAF) in Mer Des Ennuis, burning a small city is a bit much. He also speaks something like a drunken scottsman, though he is ethnically Polish. In return for allowing us to construct a class 10 containment facility/embassy, capable of repelling a large army with a variety of heavy arms and armor. As consolation, we will give your ambassador/mass murderer a room in the luxurious Castle of the Swamp, located on the pristine expanse of the Mer Des Ennuis Napalm Proving Grounds/Artillery Range.

As for your personal use, we have sent a crate of assorted liquors, primarily of the Captain Morgan and Johnny Walker Red type. We have also sent a half dozen of our finest women to persuade you to accecpt these terms.Alex entered the office, Debbie in tow.

"Mr. President, Mer des Ennuis is demanding a prisoner exchange," said Tehrani.

"Uhh, do we have one of their prisoners?"

"We do now, Mr. President. Wilhelm Kornel, convicted pyro, their ambassador to the Federal Republic."

"They're calling it a 'prisoner exchange'?"

"Well, yes, Mr. President, apparently our embassy-exchange program has gained a bit of notoriety for attracting, uhhh, riff-raff."

"And what convicted felon are we sending over?"

"Actually, he's not a criminal, at least not to anyone not associated with the Christian Coalition: he's an actor, 'Strong Thrust-mond.'"

"Never heard of him," said Debbie.

"He does ... er, artistic films," Tehrani replied.

"He does porn," Fernanda corrected him. "He gave a kick-ass performance in 'Slutty Farmer's Daughters #9.' Little skank never knew what hit her!"

There was a pause, as the president returned the awkward gazes.

"Anyway," Tehrani broke the silence, "we can have Mr. Thrust-mond on the next plane ..."

"Actually, sirs, I hate to interrupt," Debbie noted, "but you're both needed in the Situation Room. There's some developments on the Chechen front."

"Yeah, we've been meaning to invade that place for a while now," Tehrani said.

"It's been a few months now," Fernanda agreed as the two headed out the door. "I say it's time we finally blew some shit up!"

OFFICIAL IMPERIAL PROCLIMATION
TO: Nation of Omigodtheykilledkenny
FROM: Ministry of Foreign Affairs

As charter members of UN Defcon, we would like to establish an Embasy within your nation. We would be happy to adhere to any rules that you wish to empose on us (bar anything sexually oriented of course). We will get back to you on what our Ambassadors name will be. You can apply for an Embasy in our nation by going to This Thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=466717). We thank you and ask that you have a nice day.

The following letter was origionally recieved in Enochian, and translated and adapted to be readable. Enclosed was a package containing a shodily made vase, as well as a shipping container of nearly 2,000 bottles of top-shelf booze and a pocket pack of Chaser.

From: The Office of the Arch Arsonist
To: Manuelo Fernanda, President
CC: Alex Tehrani, Secrectary of State
Subject: Prisoner/Ambassador Exchange

We have recieved word that Wilhelm Kornel has been succesfully transported to your fine nation/fastfood establishment/gentleman's club. We trust he is secure, for your saftey. We have received Strong Thrust-mond, though we have a bit of an issue. his motorcade was en route to Castle of the Swamp, when a stray wing of B-2's dropped something crazy like 50,000 pounds of high explosive napalm directly on his motorcade. We aren't sure why, but my advisors are telling me it is a fluke, and shouldn't happen again. We have fashioned a nice vase out of the glass we think used to compose him. Point aside, we are going to have to ask for another ambassador from your fine eatery/nation/strip club. Actually, you may want to send several on multiple flights, just to be on the safe side. Anyway, please accecpt the container as a token of our consolation. I appologize for any inconvenience this may cause, but hopefully you will be too shitfaced by the time you get this far into the letter.

Sincerely,
Carpathia Ziemowit
Arch Arsonist

Marcus Ohyay sets up his little embassy. He immediately starts by setting up an offshore computer laboratory. Several nonrated NC-17 computer games come out immediately Foxy Maching Gun Bunnies of Doom, Sim Vice, and Fruit Loop Palace of Pleasure distributed from the embassy, also a new highly addictive soft drink is being shipped from there Kookie Cola, like Jolt with 10x the caffeine. The place has lots of greenery from various medicinal plants growing in the courtyard. There are rumors that a pirate satellite receiver company is sending out boxes all over the world from the ambassadorial location. A pirate satellite is sending coded information directly into the embassy.

To: Carpathia Ziemowit, Arch Arsonist, Mer des Ennuis
From: Kenny's One-Stop Diplomacy Shop!
Date: May 2, 2006
Subject: Your purchase

Sorry, but Kenny's One-Stop Diplomacy Shop! has a strict no-returns policy on its ambassadors. Once you take a diplomat home, you're stuck with him, primarily if you claim to have broken him on the same date of purchase. We shudder to think what pretender you actually did napalm into glass shatters, as Mr. Thrust-mond hasn't even departed from Paradise City yet, having learned of his assignment just six hours ago. If it's all the same to you, however, we would prefer dispatching our envoys to locales where they won't be blasted to smithereens within an hour of their appointment. Even so, thank you for taking interest in Kenny's One-Stop Diplomacy Shop!

To: Carpathia Ziemowit, Arch Arsonist, Mer des Ennuis
From: Kenny's One-Stop Diplomacy Shop!
Date: May 2, 2006
Subject: Your purchase

Sorry, but Kenny's One-Stop Diplomacy Shop! has a strict no-returns policy on its ambassadors. Once you take a diplomat home, you're stuck with him, primarily if you claim to have broken him on the same date of purchase. We shudder to think what pretender you actually did napalm into glass shatters, as Mr. Thrust-mond hasn't even departed from Paradise City yet, having learned of his assignment just six hours ago. If it's all the same to you, however, we would prefer dispatching our envoys to locales where they won't be blasted to smithereens within an hour of their appointment. Even so, thank you for taking interest in Kenny's One-Stop Diplomacy Shop!

Carpathia Ziemowit, Arch Arsonist, Mer des Ennuis
From: Kenny's One-Stop Diplomacy Shop!
Subject: Your purchase

Oh, um, thats very disgruntling news. Please, by all means, send Mr. Thrustmond to Mer Des Ennuis at once, I shall house him the luxurious Castle Anthrax post haste! That and I clearly have a warrenty card for ambassadors that specifically includes a provision for a complete exchange of ambassadors via turning them into glassware as a result of accidental napalm bombing/artillery strike! Signed by you, in triplicate!

-Carpathia Ziemowit

"Mr. President," Tehrani announced his entrance to Fernanda's office.

"Alex," Fernanda replied. "How'd I know you'd show up?"

"I'm pleased to tell you the Commonalitarianists have agreed to imprison Dr. Malice for the time-being ..."

"Good."

"... Also, the Teruchevans have passed our test, and we can finally finalize this brother-nations thingy."

"Excellent. So they answered all the questions correctly?"

"Er, actually, no. But they were dumb enough to humor us, and apparently they are 'Simpsons' fans ..."

"Sounds good enough to me," Fernanda said as he glanced at the Teruchevan reply sitting on his desk. ... "Umm, I don't get this last question they wrote in at the bottom ..."

"Oh, that," Tehrani briefly looked at the document. "It's just ... Teruchevan humor, or something. Kennyites aren't expected to get it, I don't think. We mostly respond to fart jokes and such."

Fernanda giggled. "You remember that episode of 'The Simpsons' where Lisa's supposed to design the new state flag, and Bart rearranges all the letters so they say 'Learn to fart'? Hehehe, that was funny."

Tehrani laughed.

"Well," the president continued, "only thing left's the trip to Troxville to sign the treaty. Hope Antigone likes Teruchevan weather."

"Actually, Mr. President, State figures you are a better choice to represent us. I mean, you are the elected leader, and you are the decorated Knight Grand Cross recipient ..."

"But I hate flying! Besides, I got some, uhh ... things ... to tend to 'round here."

"The Playboy Channel will be here when you get back, Mr. President," Tehrani noted with an annoyed sigh.

"Fine." The president leaned closer to the secretary. "Incidentally, do ... uhh ... the Cluichstanis have any ... uhh ... business in Teruchev?"

Tehrani sighed again. "I don't know, sir."

Fernanda cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. "And what about the ambassador exchange?"

"Well, the Teruchevans have designated this Alphonse Egbert to represent them here."

"And us?"

"Well, we have found someone perfect for the job. He's the CEO of Torrance Motors, Mr. Brendan Aragon. He'll be accompanying you to Troxville."

"'Sup, fools?" announced a college-aged boy as he cockily strode into the office in a FUBU shirt, grasping his crotch.

"Who the hell are you?" Fernanda demanded of the stranger.

"Mr. President, this is Mr. Aragon, our ambassador-designate," Tehrani introduced him.

Fernanda leaned in toward the secretary. "This guy owns a car company?" he whispered.

"Yes," Tehrani whispered back. "He inherited it from his grandfather, and the board has been trying to get rid of him for months now."

"We can't send this kid over to represent our brother nation!" Fernanda protested.

"You have no choice, Mr. President; many on the board were heavy contributors to your last campaign."

"Which makes me their bitch, I suppose?"

"Exactly."

Aragon was distracted by his surroundings, nodding satisfyingly to himself as he examined the president's office. "Man, you straight-pimpin' up in here, dawg! This shit is tight!"

Fernanda leaned in toward the secretary again. "He does realize he is white?" he inquired.

"Uhh, I wouldn't want to disappoint him by telling him that, Mr. President."

"Right."

"And Mr. President, since this is a Brothers in the Knight Grand Cross agreement, we figure it would be appropriate if a Cobdenian rep were on hand to witness the ceremony."

"Heidy-ho!" sang a shapely woman as she appeared behind Aragon, completely naked save for her DCRC regalia.

"Mr. President, you remember Dame Elizabeth (http://www.3djeweler.com/wipm/images/eckley/Grace_Kelly_02_lg.jpg), the Cobdenian ambassador?"

"How could I forget?" Fernanda smiled slyly. "We knew each other ... many times."

Aragon smiled approvingly at the statuesque beauty. "I'd hit that!" he declared.

http://x11.putfile.com/10/30206150928.jpg
Brendan Aragon
OMGTKK Ambassador-designate to Teruchev

We graciously accept the nomination of Brendan Aragon as Ambassador, and look forward to his appointment in Troxville, where he will receive an office where the "action is", so to speak, as befits his affinity for a certain cultural subgroup.

As well, we look forward to Mr. Aragon's business contacts providing us the necessary tools to garner a Torrance Motors auto plant in Teruchev. We believe that he will acquiesce quickly to this agreement, no matter how drunk on Cristal we have to get him at one of Troxville's numerous hip-hop clubs.

As for my own qualifications, rest assured that as a junior foreign affairs liaison/mail sorter/go-fer at the Department of Foreign Affairs, I am more than qualified for this appointment, and will represent my nation as proudly and competently as my colleague Mr. Aragon.

In closing, I throw the ball back into your court, so to speak, as to the details for a formal signing ceremony at a time and date of your choosing.

Sincerely,

Alphonse B. Egbert,
Ambassador-designate, Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny.
http://www.christoph-woerner.de/uploaded_images/hering-admin-761870.jpg

Cluichstani Ambassador Found Murdered

PARADISE CITY -- Sheik Ocifingam bin Cluich, Cluichstan's ambassador to the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilled Kenny, was found shot to death in a room in the McCormick Towers Hotel in Paradise City late last night.

The ambassador's body was discovered shortly before 11 pm, when a hotel employee came to the room to deliver a bottle of champagne Sheik Ocifingam had ordered and found him facedown in a pool of blood on the floor, with his pants down around his ankles and a single gunshot wound to the side of the head. The employee, who was questioned by police but later released, declined to give his name but said, "There goes my stinkin' tip!"

Police are continuing to investigate the ambassador's death. A search of the hotel room found no weapon or evidence that anyone else had been in the room, save the faint scent of a delicate perfume. Police did, however, find a brief case, embossed with the Cluich clan's coat of arms, full of condoms and assorted sex toys.

Rumours have recently circulated (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10775741&postcount=58) that Sheik Ocifingam was involved in espionage against the Federal Republic had been consorting with prostitutes employed by Cluichstani Private Entertainment Service Ltd. (CPESL), which maintains numerous offices through the Federal Republic. The governments of both Cluichstan and the Federal Republic, as well as CPESL officials, have denied these charges (http://s15.invisionfree.com/UN_DEFCON/index.php?showtopic=36&st=30).

When asked to comment on the investigation, Paradise City Police Commissioner Skippy Barbrady shouted, "Move along! Nothing to see here!"

OOC:
KENNY.....would like my Embasy approved....

Department of State
The Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny

Attn: Shazbotdom Ministry of Foreign Affairs

Be on notice that we have approved your request for diplomatic recognition and are currently in the process of finding a suitable plot for your embassy, designating our own ambassador to your imperium, dealing with the paperwork, preparing the protocol for receiving your ambassador and dispatching ours, and all that good official stuff. You may announce your envoy's name at your leisure; we will be sure to reply. Incidentally, thank you for the invitation to participate in your own embassy program, which we will be responding to at a later date.Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/omigodtheykilledkenny.jpg
Executive Office of the President
The Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny
10 Frowning Street; Paradise City K.M.D. 876H754B439987H53343HBG35256787K

To His Excellency, the Governor-General of Cobdenia:

We continue to mourn the tragic death (http://s15.invisionfree.com/UN_DEFCON/index.php?showtopic=36&view=findpost&p=782148) of your predecessor, the previous governor-general, at the hands of brutal Chechen thugs wanting to make penguin soup out of our C-4 native -- er, "completely normal" -- ambassador. Sir Clive was a man of outstanding character, a steadfast leader of the Governate, and a champion of peace (excepting all the wars he fought in and/or started). As it is in the interests of both Cobdenia and the Federal Republic to maintain friendly relations, I hereby submit for your approval our designee as ambassador, who shall replace the Lord Iganov, who tragically blew himself up -- er, "was blown up by Chechen rebels with a remote-control device" -- last February.

He is the Hon. Joor Muffler Man (http://f5.putfile.com/5/12314300851.jpg), who in his service as the statue-mascot for Joor Mufflers and Service in Motor City has stood at the corner of WerePenguin and Vine streets holding up an oversized muffler, to the delight of customers, passers-by, motorists and numerous pigeons, for decades. We can have him shipped to Port Sir Richard by cargo freighter within the week -- and fret ye not over the time vortex; our scientists have examined Mr. Muffler thoroughly and concluded that he should not turn into anything funny. We look forward to continued cordial relations and -- uhh, what was that? ... Why, yes, he is an inanimate object. ... Why? Are you an animatist or something? Anyway, look on the birght side: this ambassador can't blow himself up -- or be blown up or whatever. There are no explosives whatsoever inside him, although he was equipped with an air-raid siren at the height of the Slightly Chilly War between the Federal Republic and the Doped-Out Dominion of Delirious Hippy Chicks during the 1950s. To this day it noisily tests itself every hour on the hour.

Incidentally, thank you for dispatching Dame Elizabeth as ambassador to the Federal Republic. I have enjoyed her immensely.

Kindest regards,
Manuelo Fernanda
"The Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico"
President of the Federal Republic

President Perry and Ambassador Egbert stood impatiently at the podium.

"What could be taking those Kennyites so long to arrive?" asked the president.

"I was told that President Fernanda recently discovered that the CPESL has an office here in the capital," replied Egbert.

"Ah. So how is our newest ambassador making out in Crackton?"

"Not so good sir. Apparently Mr. Aragon was roughed up pretty bad by some of the locals before his security detail was able to escort him back to his office."

"What happened?"

"Well, apparently the locals mistook Mr. Aragon's exuberance for mimickry, which is often lost on that particular group of people".

"Ah."

A State Department protocol officer approached the stretch Hummer as it idled on the curb outside OMGTKK's temporary consular office in Troxville.

The tinted window lowered. "Mr. Tehrani?" asked the officer. "Where have you been? It's after midnight."

"Never mind that," barked the secretary. "We have to get the president out of here!"

The president sat sullenly next to him in the backseat, holding an icepack over his right eye; his left hand was bandaged.

"What happened?" demanded the suit as the back door opened and he was pulled inside. Instantly the tires screeched and the Hummer sped off, on its way to the airport.

"The president and Amb. Aragon decided to hit some girly bar in Troxville's red-light district, and Manuelo here tried to tip one of the waitresses by slipping a five-spot into her panties."

"Yeah, and?"

"Turns out 'she' was a guy."

"It was a drag joint?" asked the suit, stifling laughter.

Tehrani nodded. The president was looking out the window with his good eye. He said nothing.

"Anyway, the 'waitress' pulled him up and socked him in his eye, and the president responded by pummeling 'her' till 'she' was down. Luckily I got there to retrieve the president before the police did."

"The police?! But doesn't the president have diplomatic immunity?"

"He traded it in for a lapdance."

"A lapdance? From a drag queen?"

"He didn't know it at the time!" replied Tehrani.

For once the president spoke. "Hey, 'she' was very talented!" he berated the suit with an accusatory finger. "Had me convinced." He eyed the man suspiciously. "Who the fuck are you anyway?"

"He's just a character they slipped in so we'd have someone to tell the story to," replied the secretary. "Just ignore him. ...

"So what happened at the signing? Was President Perry very mad?"

"Oh, not at all, Mr. Secretary. We sent the authorized look-alike in the president's place."

"You mean the one who speaks Russian?"

"Yes, sir."

"And not a word of English?"

"That's the one."

"Hmm. I'm sorry I missed it," Tehrani said. "Anyway, you can't tell the press about where the president was. Make something up if you have to."

"Oh, absolutely. What happens in Troxville stays in Troxville."

The Red Empire of Wanderjar invites diplomatic relations with the Federal Republic of Ohmygodtheykilledkenny. We would wish to establish an embassy exchange.


Should you accept, an Embassy will be constucted immediatley in Imperial Square, Wanderjar

[OOC: Would you mind describing your ambassador-designate IC? Maybe a fact or two about your nation so I can find a suitable counterpart? ;)]

Byyzacena is willing to open diplomatic relations to Omigodtheykilledkenny, and send ambadassor Augustus Varus to your nation. Varus is conservative right-wing ex-army officer, who is member of guardian caste.

Byzacena is nation following teachings of Plato, where all political control is held by priests, or "guardians", most important of them being autocratic Priest King. See more from http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=490112

Omigodtheyresurrectedmoltan?
Disgraced Former UN Ambassador Appointed As Representative To The Federal Republic

FLURTHWEL - In a surprise move, the Court today confirmed that Moltan Bausch, former head of the Gruenberger Office of UN Affairs, has been selected as provisional ambassador to the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny, pending acceptance and granting of diplomatic immunity. The appointment both ends a running debate, mainly played out in the gutters of the tabloid press, on the replacement of the present representative, Arakina Spolly, whose competence was severely questioned by several official enquiries, a host of internal memos leaked from the Viziery, and some bloke off the telly, and ignites a fresh one, on whether Moltan Bausch has already risen from the ashes of his humiliating departure from the UN office he held for close to a year, to become a leading figure in Gruenberger foreign policy once more.

Bausch is already in Paradise City, capital of the Federal Republic, where he had been allowed to continue chairing the committee to produce the Antarctic Oasis regional free trade treaty, now open for signature. Upon the exchange of ratifications, however, it was widely believed he would be brought home to Gruenberg to face charges of embezzlement, corruption, and indecent acts with a swordfish. Documents exclusively gained by The Gruenberger Chronicle reveal that legal officials in the Viziery were preparing an extradition bid to the Fernanda administration, in the event Bausch had attempted to flee justice.

Now, though, he will be staying on, running the so-called "Paradise Assignment", named as a hilarious pun on the Kennyite capital, and also in reference to the perceived "cushiness" of the assignment, as diplomatic relations between the two nations have been historically good, not to mention the possibility of running into a drunk and vulnerable vice-president, alone on a dark, snowy street, in need of comfort, a shoulder to cry on... [Stop that - Ed.]

Bausch's diplomatic career was considered ruined after he was summarily dismissed from his post as Gruenberger Ambassador to the UN, reportedly by Grand Vizier Mikkolic Weltin himself, and his questionable business dealings were exposed to public scrutiny. However, he was widely respected as one of the most successful public representatives of Gruenberg in recent times, winning the "Man Least Likely To Be Beheaded" award of Zeit magazine. He also retained a strong level of popular support, perhaps influencing the decision to permit him to continue in public office.

Speaking on the appointment, an unnamed representative of the State Department said, "Over the past few months, Moltan Bausch has weathered the storm - and come out with sails billowing. He has long enjoyed cordial relations with many members of the Fernanda Administration, and we are sure he will be a successful and popular representative of our nation, to their nation."

Frowing Street was unavailable for comment.

Bausch nod elicits praise, outrage, division, orgasms

PARADISE CITY (Town Crier) -- Gruenberg's decision to designate its notorious UN ex-ambassador as its chief diplomat to the Federal Republic Thursday sparked varied reactions among Omigdotheykilledkenny's political elite, the loudest voices on the matter predictably coming from feminists and worthless hippie scumbags opposed to the famed sovereigntist.

"Moltan Bausch is a corrupt, despicable, self-serving, misogynist, racist, sexist, jingoistic, xenophobic, egomaniacal bastard," declared Bethel Remington, a feminazi Liberal Assemblywoman leading the charge against the Gruenberger envoy. "He has no business here in the Federal Republic."

"Moltan Bausch is a corrupt, despicable, self-serving, misogynist, racist, sexist, jingoistic, xenophobic, egomaniacal bastard," intoned a Frowning Street spokesman later in the day. "He should feel right at home here."

Though Conservatives were inclined to dismiss concerns about Bausch stemming from his past rants against women and minorities on the floor of the United Nations, Liberals demonstrated they weren't going to take the nod lying down (which they ususally do, and we mean that literally, given the naturally lethargic, drugged-out state of those on the political left).

Liberal lawmakers took to the floor of both houses of the Federal Congress Thursday to demand that President Fernanda refuse to accept Bausch's credentials.

"Bausch's primitive and backward views on gender are a disgrace to the civilized world, and his appointment is an insult to this great nation," said Remington. "We call upon the president to do the right thing and send that woman-hating neanderthal packing."

It was a call the president would roundly reject.

"Moltan Bausch has been an upstanding public servant, and a credit to his nation," Fernanda said as he boarded Air Force One that afternoon. "I was only to proud too accept his credentials ... and some fine Gruenberger Scotch ... and some stock options ... and a luxury cruise to the Malibu Islands ... and floor seats to the Lakers ... and secret off-shore holdings. ... Er, at any rate, I really don't know why the other side wants to use this historic and highly profitable moment for our two nations to hurl shit at an honorable man."

Fernanda questioned the motives of Bausch's critics. "Seems to me it's just a bunch of women's-libbers with too much time on their hands," he said. "Don't know why all the fuss is necessary; I'm sure Assemblywoman Remington could find a man if she wore a little makeup ... maybe did something with her hair ...."

Having lost the first round, the Liberal minorities in both houses set out to legislate the problem away with proposals to revoke Bausch's visa, deport him, deny him diplomatic immunity, force him to change his name to Anita Manda Huggenkiss, and downgrade Gruenberg's embassy so that in terms of diplomacy Bausch would effectively be nothing more than the resident drunk in a local Gruenberger tavern. All were rejected on party-line votes.

It was around the time that the Liberals proposed declaring Bausch a terrorist and transporting him to the Federal Republic's military prison on Tiki Taki that Conservative Assembly leaders discovered they could simply refuse to allow the proposal to come up for a vote.

At this, the opposition had no other recourse than grouse about the majority's decision.

"I don't know why the leaders of this house won't simply allow an up-or-down vote on this," moaned Assembly Minority Whip Bob Fritz on the Assembly floor. "It seems to me that in a proud democracy such as ours we would want an up-or-down vote; it's the people's right to know where their leaders stand by holding an up-or-down vote. If the Assembly leaders were so sure they could defeat this measure, why not have an up-or-down vote? This is a democracy! Let us have an up-or-down vote!

"I'd like to hear from the Conservatives on this: If you're so committed to democracy, if you're so committed to freedom, if you're so committed to letting every voice be heard, why not submit this question to a fair up-or-down vote?"

By this time, however, the Conservatives were all passed out over their desks, having agreed during the whip's speech to play a drinking game where everyone took a shot every time he said "up-or-down vote."

The Senate debate that afternoon was equally shrill, with former president and now Minority Leader John Thorne accusing Gruenberg of "wishing to spark an international incident with this horrendous nomination. I really can't see how this isn't a unnecessary provacation here on the part of Gruenberg."

"You're out of line, Senator!" interjected Vice President Antigone Morgan, who chairs the Senate.

"Honestly, Ms. Morgan, isn't there some vice-presidential stuff you could be doing right now?" inquired Thorne.

"Those mini-malls can open themselves, Senator," snapped Morgan. "They don't need me there just to cut the ribbon."

At this point an aid whispered in her ear. "Dolce and Gabbana opening?! ... You're on your own, bitches!" she suddenly declared to the senators as she marched toward the exit, on the way dropping documents upon which she had scrawled little red hearts around Moltan Bausch's name, and girlishly doodled: "Mrs. Antigone Bausch," "Mrs. Moltan Bausch," "Mrs. Antigone Morgan Bausch," "Ms. Antigone Morgan-Bausch," and so on.

No controversy in the Federal Republic would be complete, of course, without rowdy demonstrations in the nation's capital, and Paradise City's rent-a-rioters were up to the task, having turned their rage on a cardboard box in the Old Towne Square where Bausch was rumored to be hiding out until the diplomatic immunity papers went through.

Activists from women's groups such as the Benevolent Institution for Transcendent Cultural Harmony (BITCH) and the Women's Health Organization and Rehabilitation Enclave (WHORE) pelted the box with bricks and rotten eggs and vegetables until a homeless veteran of one of the Federal Republic's many wars emerged.

Suffering as he did from post-traumatic stress disorder (which we are certain is no fault of the Fernanda Administration's subpar funding for veterans' health organizations), the man begged for mercy. "Don't shoot!" he pleaded. "I surrender!"

But the brave activists weren't about to let the surrender of a helpless old man stand in the way of their quest for social justice. Immediately they approached the "ambassador" and proceeded to punch and kick him until he admitted he was a "good-for-nothing sexist pig" and agreed to book his sorry ass on the next flight back to Gruenberg.

Granny Dhurigh's lifetime in Findhorn had been long and interesting, but not particularly eventful. Her deathtime, however, was turning out to be filled with marvels. Ever since her lovable (but, she had to admit, rather gormless) grandson Ruari had accidentally raised her from the dead, she had been enjoying her afterlife immensely.

That, she was generously ready to admit, owed a lot to the fact that the Findhorn's Lost Colony, the independent magical nation of Ardchoille, had appointed her their Ambassador to OmigodtheykilledKenny.

It owed even more to the President of that enterprising State. Some of President Fernanda's little exploits had even had her wishing quite strongly that Granpa Dhurigh had also been numbered among the Undead. But he had always been of a conservative bent in certain matters, so his continued absence from the scene was probably just as well.

Today she was taking a lively, or perhaps deathly, pleasure in appearing before sundry OMGTKK flunkies and walking through them when they tried to stop her seeing the President. She was not going to be stopped. She was an Ambassador, with all the dignity pertaining thereunto -- "Thereunto!" she whispered to herself, rolling the lovely word round her tongue -- and she had a job to do. She was about to deliver a Diplomatic Note. Quite a stern one, too.

"Dear President Fernanda," it read, "hope this finds you well as it finds us. Further diplomatic chit-chat along those lines, John. You know, the usual malarkey. Now, let's get to the main point. Er.

"We understand that one of your madder UN reps has kidnapped one of ours. Not 'one of our madder UN reps', John, we wouldn't want him to think that, would we? Er. One of ours. Yes.

"Right, well, then, er. We don't think this is a very nice way to behave, though it was probably all a misunderstanding, anyway. We would like you to let him go. You needn't make any fuss about it, we wouldn't want to put you to any inconvenience. If you just put him out the door he will find his own way home. Cats do that, you know.

"Well, I think that should do it, John. Now just get that wrapped up in some sort of diplomatic waffling and send it off, right?"

The letter's signature appeared to be, "Mhairi, will you fix this up?", followed by some six or eight variants on that line, and ending with, "For and On Behalf Of John McGonnagle, Minister for Situations Like This, representing the High Priest of the Oldest Coven, per Janet Brown, secty."

Granny Dhurigh found this very impressive, as it filled up almost a whole sheet of notepaper. She smiled nicely when she finally reached President Fernanda and bobbed an old-fashioned curtsey as she handed over the missive.

However, it wouldn't do to let anyone think she was soft, so she rearranged her teeth (the bottom set never had sat right) and delivered The Threat:

"Any more nonsense from you, young man, and I'm comin' back here with me duck-headed umbrella!"

She walked right through the flunkies on the way out, too. It was the only way to deal with these people. A firm hand, that was all it took.

Fernanda stared bemusedly at the document Debbie had just handed him -- at least he thought it was Debbie; she hadn't told him of any appointments that morning, so it must have been her. Man, she had aged terribly since he saw her last, he thought. Of course, he had only seen her just twenty minutes before, but she must have had to wash off her makeup for some reason in the interim.

"Debbie!" he bellowed.

"Yes, Mr. President?" his secretary replied, appearing in the doorway. Relieved the Destructor noticed that she had managed to redo her face, in record time, too.

"What is this shit?"

"I have no idea, sir."

"Well, you gave it to me!"

"No, I didn't, sir; that was the ambassador from Ardchoille."

"The ambassador from Artichoke-ville?" Fernanda attempted in vain to repeat the unpronounceable name.

"No, Ardchoille, sir."

"You never told me about no appointment with some ambassador ..."

"She came unannounced, Mr. President. I tried to stop her, but she walked right through me."

"She walked right through you?!"

"Yes, sir."

"You mean ... you're a ... you're a ghost?!"

"Mr. President, I'm not a ..."

"Oh, haunt me no longer, wayward spirit!" Fernanda beseeched her as he dove under his desk.

Debbie impatiently crossed her arms as her boss cursed himself for having misplaced the garlic necklace he wore to the coronation of the Vampyrik king. "Garlic repels spirits, right?" he asked himself.

Debbie was about to tell him she wasn't a vampire, either, when Sec. Tehrani entered the room.

"What happened here?" Tehrani asked, noting the howls emanating from the president's desk.

Debbie tried to explain, but she was just as baffled as the secretary was.

Tehrani approached the desk. "Mr. President, what are you doing under there?"

"Debbie wants my soul!!" came the terrified reply.

"Why would Debbie want your--?"

"She's a wandering specter from the netherworld; ask her yourself!"

Tehrani turned to Debbie, who only gave him a confused shrug.

"Mr. President, you have to come out from under there!" Tehrani said, striking the top of the desk. "You're the Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico, and you're crying like a pussy over some ghost?"

The whimpering stopped. ... "You're right, Alex," Fernanda eventually said with borrowed machismo. He grabbed the edge of his desk and re-emerged, casting a withering gaze at his secretary as he sat down again.

He quickly recovered from his brush with the undead, and immediately turned to the matter of the recent upsurge in militant violence in Paradise City. "Now, Alex, I'm dead serious about restoring order to the Kenny Memorial District; I want those assholes' heads!"

"Actually, Mr. President, I came to discuss Ardchoille -- but we just brokered a ceasefire with the militants this morning."

"A ceasefire?! With al-Nahsra?! Are you fucking joking? They keep firing rockets into Paradise City suburbs! By God I want something blown up!"

"We can discuss that later, Mr. President. Right now, we need to attend to this Ardchoille matter."

"Alright, fine. What the fuck are these idiots going around saying we kidnapped some ... cat?"

"They seem to think Jack Riley took their co-president's cat," Tehrani explained.

"Who the fuck cares? It's a cat!"

"It's not just a cat, Mr. President; Bast is a very powerful figure in Ardchoille."

"They revere cats? So they're like the Kawaiians or something? ... Tell me, Alex, you think Riley did it?"

"On the record, sir, Jack Riley is a fine diplomat, and an accomplished public official, and would never involve himself with such adolescent hijinks."

"And on the record?"

"I wouldn't put anything past him."

"Oh, God damn it!" the president fumed. "That dumb fuck's been nothin' but trouble from Day One! First the radioactive hamsters thing, then the business with CPESL, then abducting the Kawaiian Nuncio, and now catnapping this -- er, this--?"

"Bast."

"Bask. Some important kitty. What the hell are we supposed to do about this?!"

"Well, we need to buy ourselves some time with the Ardchoilleans, sir, while we find out what Riley's up to."

"And how do we buy time?"

"You'll have to call our ambassador and get her to reassure their co-president."

"Right. Who did we end up sending to this Aardvark-choke-whazzit place?"

"June Radey, sir."

"Oh, no! No! I am not dealing with that impossible woman! There's a reason we sent her away, you know!"

"Well, you're gonna have to call her, sir."

"I hate you, Alex," Fernanda grumbled. "Debbie, get Radey on the phone. ... uh, please! Please get Radey on the phone, Your Ghostliness!"

Debbie sighed and strolled into the other room.

"You're gonna have to help me with this, Alex," Fernanda said as he picked up the receiver and set it down on speaker-phone.

"Hello?" the elderly woman said.

"Amb. Radey, this is the president."

"Oh, Mr. President! How are you! Oh, Mr. President, this place is like a children's storybook! It's right out of Harry Potter! Course I never get to read any of those books, or much of anything any more! These old eyes don't see very well. Cataracts, Mr. President. They keep coming back, and they keep having to zap 'em! They actually cut open the eye, too, sometimes. Done it several times to me. Made me sign all these papers. Terrifying stuff, Mr. President. Telling me I can't sue 'em if they accidentally make me blind ... or cut through to the brain ... or in case of death. Scared the hell out of me, sir--!"

"June ... June!" Fernanda yelled into the speaker. "June, listen. We're having a problem with these Artie-a-go-go ... Ard-something people. You have to talk to their co-president."

"Dicey, Mr. President? Oh, she's always at the Strangers' Bar! She's never here! Really nice place, the Strangers' Bar, at least from the couple times I visited there when Joe was president. Back then it was so classy -- waiters holding cloths and polite as pie and saying 'sir' and 'ma'am.' Wonderful band they had there back then, too -- of course, now, it's gone all loony! Or so I'm told ... all these drunkards and priests and goats and giant butterflies and dragons! Actually, I do remember! I have been there once or twice since Joe's time -- there was this really nice boy serving drinks who seems kinda fruity! Really changed since ..."

"June!" Fernanda said. "Stay with me, here. You have to tell this co-president lady ... er ..."

"Dicey, Mr. President," Tehrani said.

"Dicey ... that we don't know nothing 'bout no UN ambassador stealing her cat!"

"Stealing a cat! How awful! I remember my Dixie running away, loooong before I met Joe ... oh, she was a lovely little ..."

"June," the Destructor interjected. "Focus. If Dicey asks about Jack Riley, you say ... er, what should she say, Alex?"

"'We have no knowledge of this "Jack Riley" you speak of,'" Tehrani offered.

"Got that, June? We don't even know the jerk!"

"What else should I say, Mr. President?"

"Er, the stuff you've been sayin' to me is good."

"Oh, wonderful! You know, a long time ago, when I first met Joe ... oh, it must have been at least 50 years ago--"

Fernanda hung up. "You think this will work?"

"Of course it will."

"And if not, we can always send Debbie over there to haunt their asses."

The ink barely dry on the agreement, President Perry, proud of his symbolically high yet strategically insignificant achievement, shook hands with Ambassadors Egbert and Aragon. Leaning in close to "President Fernanda", Perry smiled and asked:

"Pretty good thing we did here today, eh Fernanda?"

The "President" immediately replied "Nyet", followed by some incoherent stammering and then hastily replied again. "Da".

Perry stared blankly at the "Destructor from Del Fuego", then leaned back to Ambassador Aragon and asked "I thought you people spoke English!"

Aragon, completely ignoring the President's question, asked "Hey, when we hittin' up da strip-aaaaas? My aim with them quarters is tight, dawg!"

Perry stared blankly at the youth, wondering how in the world he ever became CEO of Torrance Motors, the #3 automaker in Teruchev.

Perry tried getting an answer out of Ambassador Egbert, but found him lost in his Blackberry and oblivious to even the most forceful of nudges.

Sighing, Perry motioned to his aide to bring the Cadillac around, where he could at least find respite from a day that was supposed to be enjoyable but turned out strange.

Riding back to his office, the president's chief of staff, Jim Paulist, engaged in an all-too-annoying game of Told-You-So.

"I told you it be nothing but grief dealing with those Kennyites," he snorted. "I mean, outside of the CPESL fringe benefits, and getting to laugh at their ambassador trying to ingratiate himself with the local hoodlums..."

"Hey you know what, Jim? 'I told you so' has a brother. His name is 'shut the fuck up!'"

Relations started http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11452451&postcount=8, http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11454635&postcount=10

Horace Indigo was briefing Secretary Locke with the details of the past interactions with Omigodtheykilledkenny.

"...and then I called them back, and I gave them a little information, and then they missed the flight, yo!" he finished.

"Thank you, Horace." His pager beeped. "Oh, it seems you are needed on the third floor. Apparently some high school wants you to blather -- er, I mean, speak -- at their commencement ceremony next spring."

Horace Indigo bounded up the stairs.

Locke then took out a navy blue phone and dialed the UN Office.

"Hello, Dr. Lopez?"

"The one and possibly only, sir."

"I want you to get out all the records of old UN office pages. Very old."

"You talking about Bobson's term?"

"No, before that. When old Benjy Qiro had to do the job himself."

"Okay, I've got 'em out."

"Right. Now, look at Benjy's notes on them. Are there any that were marked as somewhat below-average intellegence, gung-ho attitude, and roughly shared the values of our current administration?"

Locke waited while Enrique Lopez shuffled through the notes.

"I've got one, sir. Jeanna Church. Was a 16-year-old page at the UN office in the second week of April, 2036."

"Can you dispatch a page to find out where she is now."

Locke could here Lopez's voice calling a page over, then saying "Hey! Wendy! I've got a special job for you!"

"Thanks a lot, Enrique."

"No problem at all."

He hung up. Five minutes later the navy blue phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Enrique Lopez."

"Hi. Have you found out anything about Jeanna Church?"

"Yup. It was real simple. Just a search of Ceorana Emergency Workforce members turned her up. She signed on with the CEW a few years ago and is still just a Senior Forceperson. I'll email you her serial number and such in a minute."

"Thanks a lot."

"You're certainly welcome, especially seeing as you're my supervisor. By the way, why did you need this?"

"Oh, I need an ambassador to Omigodtheykilledkenny, and I needed someone with certain, er, personality traits. Thanks again."

"No problem, sir."

They hung up again.

Theodore Locke looked at the file that Lopez had emailed him. According to the notes of his predecessor, Benjamin Qiro, Jeanna Church was a person with a forceful attitude and a bare minimum respect for authority. She was a Senior Forceman in the CEW after five years of service, which must mean she wasn't very good at fighting. It would be a simple matter to ask for her commanding officer to retire in exchange for a tour in the Diplomatic Corps. She probably would want it, for that matter.

Locke emailed the Department of War and National Security with his request. He only had to wait 10 minutes before the reply came back in the affirmative. She would be ready in a week, tops.

It was getting late, but Locke decided to finish the task. He telegrammed Omigodtheykilledkenny:

To: Department of State, The Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny
From: Department of State, The Congressional Republic of Ceorana

Dear Sir:

We believe we have found a suitable candidate for Ambassador to Omigodtheykilledkenny: SFmn. Jeanna Church, CEW, Ret. will have the duty of representing Ceorana to Omigodtheykilledkenny. She will present her credentials at your convenience upon her arrival in Omigodtheykilledkenny.

Attached is a file with notes from her previous service in the Department of State (OOC: what I said up there about her personality, etc.).

Theodore Locke
Secretary of State
The Congressional Republic of Ceorana

Locke sighed, left the office, locked the door, and walked towards the M stop, hoping that they hadn't decided to turn off the monorail this evening.

Tehrani impatiently drummed his fingers on his desk as he listened to the rings on the other end of the line. A click.

"Hello?" answered a male voice.

"Sammy! Where the hell is your sister? She's missed her flight!"

"Uh, we've been having some problems getting her packed, Mr. Secretary."

"Is that girl so helpless she can't even pack a suitcase?"

"Er, no, sir. She's been packing her luggage just fine. I'm keep having to unpack them."

"What?! You're the one who wanted to get rid of her!"

"She keeps packing my clothes, Mr. Secretary! She likes to wear them when she wants to go 'grungy'! -- Hey! Crystal! Put that sweatshirt back!"

A girl's voice echoed in the background: "You don't even like this sweatshirt!"

"I don't care! Put it back!"

"Sammy ... Sammy!"

"Yes, Mr. Secretary?"

"You guys better get your asses in motion. You don't want to miss the next flight to New Boston ... whenever that is."

"Yes, Mr. Sec-- No, Crystal, not my shoes!" Sammy dropped the phone.

Their argument continued in the hall: "You never wear these shoes anymore!" Crystal protested.

"Put 'em back!"

"Get off me! ... Gimme them back!"

"They're my shoes, Crystal!"

Tehrani waited on the phone as the two continued to bicker. "Aw, fuck, these kids," he muttered to himself.

He could hear someone lifting the phone again. "Sammy?"

"Mr. Secretary, can't I just drug her with that stuff you guys gave me?"

"No! Only in extreme situations! We don't want any unnecessary lawsuits on our hands!"

"You suck, Mr. Secretary."

"Only in a few films I did before I became successful."

"Umm ... sir, what are you talking about?"

"Erm ..." He hung up.

There was a sexy female voice at the door. "Can I come in now, Mr. Secretary?"

"Oh, of course, Michelle. Sit down."

"What do you need of me this week?" Michelle asked.

"I need you to schmooze the new Ceoranan ambassador," he replied.

"So, the standard? Wine him, dine him, do some things to him you're not paying me for? Maybe some stuff that is illegal in 21 states?"

"Well, only if 'he' is into that kind of thing. 'His' name is Jeanna."

"Princess Jianna?"

"No, Jeanna Church. Ceoranan Emergency Workforce, retired."

"I wouldn't mind doing a few things to Princess Jianna. She's hot."

"Well, you better make sure this Jeanna is legal here before you do anything with her. And keep her away from the president. You know how he gets around attractive young lady ambassadors."

"What do you have on this girl?"

"Sec. Qiro's notes here say: "Dumb as a post ... boorish ... belligerent ... troubling fondness for firearms ... can't work a typewriter ... deficient in tasks requiring opposable thumbs ..."

"So she's a Kennyite?"

"No, I think they just wanted a girl who's like a Kennyite, so we'd get along with her."

Michelle looked sad. "Can I still do things to her that are illegal in 21 states?"

"Only if it doesn't get you arrested. And if we can reach an accord with the legal office regarding diplomatic immunity. Thing is, now that we're back in the United Nations, we have to consult with Creative Solutions to make sure we're in compliance with UNR #127 (http://www.nationstates.net/page=UN_past_resolutions/start=126) before we grant an embassy with immunity."

"You sure use a lot of big words, Mr. Secretary," the girl giggled.

"Yes. I think you and Ms. Church will get on just fine."

Ausserlander envoy named dean of OMGTKK Diplomatic Corps

PARADISE CITY -- In what some are describing as a "major coup" for Kenny-Ausserlander relations, or possibly a very minor one, the Department of State on Friday formalized Ausserland Amb. Zinnia Yossarian's status as Dean of the Diplomatic Corps (ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Kenny_Diplomatic_Service), making her top-ranking emissary here.

"This is the highest honor our nation has ever afforded a filthy gnome, and it's the highest honor we will ever bestow on someone of her kind," growled President Fernanda during a Frowning Street news conference.

"She's a dwarf, Mr. President," noted a surprisingly perceptive Kennyite reporter.

"Anyone care what this fuckwit just said?" demanded the Destructor.

"No!" angrily shouted the other newsmen, many of them pelting the reporter with their reporter pads, two-ways, cell phones and laptops.

Yossarian's new role as dean of the diplomatic corps entitles her to lord it over all the other ambassadors to OMGTKK, score some kick-ass seats at official diplomatic functions, be formally announced at the State of the Union address, and represent the diplomatic corps in negotiations with the State Department.

"Our relationship with Ausserland hasn't always been rosy -- much of it thanks to that dickhead who used to call himself our UN ambassador -- but when we dusted off some old diplomatic paperwork and discovered Ms. Yossarian was the de facto dean, we figured it would help repair some of the rifts to announce it formally," said Amb.-at-Large Antoin Venn.

Yossarian was designated by Ausserland's Prince Leonhard II as ambassador to the Federal Republic in Nov. 2005, making her the longest-serving envoy in the Kennyite capital. Her embassy has come under repeated attack by Paradise City terrorists since then, so the Ausserlanders counted themselves lucky for having appointed a former army commando as their representative.

Her stellar service at the Embassy of Ausserland has resulted in the capture of over a dozen terrorist leaders, and 21 Dead Bad Guys. She wears body armor and carries a sawed-off shotgun with her wherever she goes, and is rumored to have a skull-and-crossbones symbol tattooed on her ass for every terrorist she's iced. She also enjoys the distinction of the only woman ambassador to OMGTKK never to be seduced by the president (you know, because she has the shotgun).

Although Yossarian was not available for comment due to "extreme stress," upon hearing the news she is said to have uttered to an aid, "About time I get some fucking recognition after freezing my ass off in this terror-soaked Antarctic hellhole for the past nine months! Now hand me that M16! ... Hahahahaha!!! Eat LEAD, INSURGENT ASSHOLES!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"

Said Amb. Jack Riley from his new post at the OMGTKK HOCEK embassy (recently equipped with rubber walls): "Yossarian's just Amb. Ahlmann in drag (http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a118/teddygrahams113/Yossarian.jpg)!! It's a conspiracy!! I'm pretty sure I've already used this joke before!! Wake up, people!! AUGH!!!!"

There are currently 35 foreign ambassadors accredited to Omigodtheykilledkenny. Ausserland's embassy is located between the No-good Deadbeat Relatives and Incredibly Incompetent and Criminally Negligent Government Officials sectors of Embassy Row, which lines Van Diesel Road in Paradise City.

http://www.vguild.hostrocket.com/diplomats/Yossarian_Z_X.gif
Ms. Yossarian[OOC: Ausserland's response (http://z6.invisionfree.com/UN_Old_Guard/index.php?showtopic=1221&view=findpost&p=9138423).]

The High Priest of the Oldest Coven was feeling uncomfortably crowded, and in his own library, too.

Of course, Dicey Reilly constituted a crowd by herself, what with the bobbing red curls and the hyperactive cape-swirling, but this time she'd dragged along McGonnagle from Admin. She'd even persuaded her other Co-President, Ben Chifley, to ground the national balloon, the Petulant Snit, long enough to join the mob.

"It's time we discussed the Kenny Crisis," she announced ringingly.

"But there is no Kenny Crisis," complained the High Priest. "There was the Bast Crisis last week, but you all said to leave it alone and let things sort themselves out. You're giving me a headache," he added hopefully. People quite often stopped when he told them that the things they were doing gave him a headache. The Ardchoilleans were a considerate people, give or take a few.

"Here, I'll fix it," said Dicey, who was definitely one of the few. A sensation like a small, contained bushfire raged briefly through the High Priest's head, leaving it, he had to admit, with decidedly less undergrowth.

"You really should learn that spell, Phillippe," she added crossly. "I know Fire's not your element, but I'm sure there's an Air equivalent."

"Air's a powerful Element," agreed Ben Chifley. "When I was Prime Minister of that RL nation you won't let me mention, I --"

"If I might just summarise," John McGonnagle interrupted smoothly. As Secretary for Situations Like This, he spent much of his time simply trying to keep Ardchoille's volatile leadership on track, but he never begrudged the effort. That was what Admin was for.

"The Bast, ah, Incident arose when Omigodtheykilledkenny's mad UN representative Jack Riley catnapped our Presidential Feline Advisor from the Strangers' Bar at the United Nations," he continued. "We advised a policy of watchful inaction then because we were confident that Bast would simply teleport out and come home when he felt like it. As Cats are wont to do."

"But, Phillippe, but," Dicey leapt in, "Riley has been sacked and sent off to 'recuperate' in Kawaii, and there's still no word from Bast!"

"Well, he's probably gathering information or something," the High Priest objected."You know what he's like. He's a Cat; he's curious."

"We fear that by now the Kennyites may also know what he's like," McGonnagle rejoined dryly. "As our chief, ah, information-gatherer, Bast would be of considerable interest to any nation."

"Pffttt! Who cares what information Ardchoille knows?" demanded the High Priest, so incensed he actually rose on one elbow. "Ooo, Wysteria's shaking in its shoes! Ooo, the East Pacific's on red alert! Ardchoille knows stuff about us, oooo!" Exhausted by so much sarcasm, he slumped back.

"Nonetheless, we do have our international reputation to consider," McGonnagle continued (it was why Dicey had brought him along; she could never have said anything like that with a straight face). "At the moment, it is one of a nation that will let anyone kidnap its citizens without fear of retribution. Why, the way things stand, the Kennyites or anyone else have no reason to think they couldn't just walk right in here, haul you off the sofa, dump you somewhere miles away and make you walk home! In summer!"

Historians will nod knowingly about what happened next. The pivotal Moment arrived; the Man arose to meet it (arose metaphorically, in the High Priest's case, but arose nonetheless).

Historians being what they are, they will probably then adjourn to their various faculty lounges to quibble endlessly over whether the Man made the Moment, or the Moment called forth the Man. It doesn't matter, because the historians will have served their purpose, ie, to witness the meeting of Man and Moment, whichever came first. And the result of that fateful meeting was ...

"DOOO SOOOOMETHIIIING! shrieked Phillippe Thibaudet, High Priest of the Oldest Coven of the Sometimes Coherent Conclave of the Magical Nation of Ardchoille, its territories and protectorates, its heirs and assigns.

Dicey and her allies smiled with satisfaction and withdrew before he changed his mind. Whatever they did, they now had authorisation to do. Democracy had spoken. The Voice of the People, the Spirit of the Nation, United in Glorious, uh, Unity.

"Gentlemen," said Dicey, aware of the weight of Destiny on her tongue, "gentlemen ... send in the lawyers!"

The lawyers, released from the confines of Ardchoille's penal region (known as Your Room, and differing from Ardchoille proper only in the lack of exits and the knowledge that all one's associates were criminals), proved co-operative.

Soon letters had been written containing more "hereinuntofore"s and "parties of the first part, to wit and not excluding"s than a reasonable person could expect to meet in a lifetime. Swiftly an estimated 2.997billion were despatched to the citizenry of Omigodthekilledkenny, give or take a brat or two.

"It doesn't matter whether the Kennyites can read or not," Dicey explained. "Nobody understands what lawyers' letters say, anyway. But everybody knows they mean trouble."

A barrage like that would normally have cost the lives of several forests. But the Ardchoilleans, careful not to offend the tree-huggers of the international community, made sure that they were, in fact, magical apparitions of letters. Disappearing in 48 hours, they left behind no litter (or evidence, come to that). All that remained was the worrying thought in the aforementioned 2.997billion Kennyite minds that, somehow, they were in de-e-e-e-p kimchi.

In Ardchoille it was a time of encouraging national solidarity. Even Dicey's bete noire, Justin Furlonger, Ambassador-Designate to Hotrodia, played his part. The young conservatives who comprised his Ardchoille First! party flocked to take part in the massive letter-campaign, the magical spells of the humans and magical powers of the Cats combining to accomplish the mail-out with spectacular ease.

(As a pacifist flourish, the activists scoped the path of the letters to make sure none appeared in conditions that could lead to injury or loss of life of any Kennyite. So don't try it, guys: no airliners crashed, no school buses overturned, no babies smothered because a Kennyite was distracted. Not by an Ardchoillean letter, anyway. Birds, pretty coloured traffic-lights, potato-chip packets blowing in the wind and similar attention-getters maintained their usual fatality count among the concentration-challenged.)

In the Kennyite corridors of power, however, and also in the President's suite, matters were different. Oh, the letters arrived, of course, and someone even figured out what they were saying. Shorn of all the legalese, it was Where is Bast? Give him back!

But before that demand could be dealt with, there was the problem of the numbers.

Glowing numerals, (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11469530&postcount=3989) sometimes golden, sometimes green, sometimes a cute Barbie pink, appeared in the air wherever the President was. Often they pulsed in a friendly fashion or buzzed soothingly. Sometimes they even seemed to want to play. Nonetheless, their effect on the Presidential lifestyle (and his playmates) was profound. To be pursued in the bedroom, in the bathroom and even in the den while watching the World Series was, to say the least, unsettling. It made press conferences a bit weird, too, especially when the media worked out that the numbers didn't connect to any Cluichistani entertainment service.

Given his precarious state, it was fortunate that President Fernanda did not recognise that specific sequence. Dicey's memory-spell had helped Mrs Radey remember the precise detonation code of the suitcase nuke, and there it was, blinking in front of him (or sometimes behind or above): an aide-memoire for all to see.

Eventually, the Ardchoilleans were sure, someone in the military, or perhaps what passed for Kennyite intelligence, would realise what it meant. Meanwhile, efforts to find, extract or at least contact their missing delegate by other means continued apace.

Fernanda blinked repeatedly, trying to rid himself of the flashing numbers dancing in front of his eyes. "Man, I never should have gone shrooming last weekend," he said to himself.

"Debbie!" he called out.

His faithful assistant appeared in the doorway. "Yes, Mr. President?"

"Schedule an appointment with my eye doctor, and fast," he instructed. "And try and find out why the hell the World Series is on in the middle of August."

"Will do, sir," she said. "But what do we tell the press?"

"About the World Series?"

"No, your eye appointment," she sighed annoyedly. "People are going to wonder why their leader is need of medical attention."

"Oh, that's easy," the president said. "Just tell them that Eva Longoria accidentally elbowed me in the eye while we were having sex!"

Debbie cast a look of disgust on her boss. "Do all your stories have to involve sex romps with celebrities?" she asked.

"Well, what else you got?"

"I'll tell them it's a routine exam for a boxing match next month," she said, and returned to her desk outside the door.

Just then, Tehrani entered, holding what looked like a stack of papers.

"What's up, Alex?" the president asked.

"Mr. President, the people are very upset over these letters-- hey, what's with the dancing numbers?"

"Oh, you went shrooming too? Man, that was some weekend!"

"Er ..." Rather than press the matter, Tehrani elected to do what everyone before him had done when confronted by the numbers: ignore them, and assume the president was trying to make some weird fashion statement.

"Anyway, Mr. President, 2.997 billion of these letters arrived in every Kennyite's mailbox this week," he announced, holding up a magical apparition appearing as parchment.

"Oh, they got those things too?"

"Like I said, sir; they sent out 2.997 billion of them."

"They must have missed a couple million," Fernanda noted. "We're over 3 billion now."

"Right, sir. Anyway, these things have the people rioting in the streets!"

"Oh, there's a big surprise," the president said dully. "And what's so alarming about the letter?"

"Actually, sir, no one could understand what hell the letters were saying, so everyone just assumed they must have won the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes, and now they're wondering where their prize money is."

"I'd like to know where Ed McMahon is with my oversized novelty check!" the president demanded, pounding his desktop.

"Calm down, sir: there is no prize, there is no money," Tehrani said. "It's the Ardchoilleans, wondering where their cat is."

"Bah! They're still on that?! Cats go missing all the time! Have they checked the roof? The raingutters?"

"I don't know, sir. But apparently this cat is very important to them, so I think we better get Jack to--"

Immediately the president held up his hand to stop the secretary. "Hey! Hey! I thought we agreed that Jack Riley doesn't exist!"

"I know, sir, but still--"

"No Jack Riley! ... Now, about this stupid cat: where was it when the commandos apprehended you-know-who?"

"He wasn't anywhere in the UN office suite, sir," Tehrani said. "The commandos assumed you-know-who let him go."

Fernanda shook off the matter of the missing cat and the nonexistant ambassador, and picked up the magical letter sitting on his desk. "Well, if these sharks wanna play hardball, we're gonna respond in kind!" he growled dangerously. "Deploy the hippies!"

"Video begins."

A dimly lit humanoid wolf-thing in a black suit stood on the screen. At the computer's signal, he began speaking.

"Greetings to the President and the people of the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny. It has come to the attention of the Commonwealth of the Wolf Guardians that you have an embassy exchange program. We are always interested in new relations with other nations, and, as such, the Alpha Elect saw fit to approve my request to pursue the endeavor.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Wolfe Three Sixty Five, citizen number 000.010.384.365 of the Commonwealth. And yes, Wolfe really is my name, even if that is like a human named "Human". I serve below the Beta of Foreign Affairs, currently, but would likely become the ambassador to your country myself if you give us the opportunity, and we would welcome an ambassador of your own here. He would be stationed in the only real place to live, Origin City. Beautiful place. You can't not like it.

"We don't like being a burden to other nations, so you needn't worry about furnishing us or anything. Just tell us where to be, and we'll be there. In fact, feel free to ask us for whatever it is possible and probable for us to provide. Our... token, for lack of a better word, export is, as the name of our nation would suggest, guarding things, especially due to the whole... genetically-engineered... half-dog... thing..." he trailed off, briefly, struck by the unprofessionalism of that sentance. Oh, who the @*$^ cares. It's not as though I'm addressing a nation of billions or anything, he thought with an inward chuckle. "Anywho, that's what we do. So... whatever floats your boat, mate. Perhaps we could locate this... cat... Bast, wasn't it?... that we've heard went missing." He chuckled, out loud this time.

"All that said, we look forward to hearing from you. Wolfe 365, signing off."

He gave an informal salute to the camera, which took that as its cue to stop.

"Video ends."

Fernanda sighed heavily and sat back down as Tehrani barged into his office for maybe the twelfth time that day. Cluichstan would have to wait.

"You again," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we have another nation requesting an embassy: The Wolf Guardians."

"The Who?"

"The Wolf Guardians, sir. New UN power. They seem to be populated by a some bizarre species of man-wolf."

"Oh," the Destructor said disappointedly. His eyes always glassed over at the mention of the UN. "And whom do you suggest for this enviable assignment?"

"Perhaps the Embassy No One Wanted, sir?"

"Mark Reyes? No. His father would kill me if he were harmed by these 'man-wolves.'"

"Well, there's always Tom Margera, Mr. President ..."

"Who?"

"You know, the punk-rocker who promised to leave the country if you got elected president last year? And never followed through?"

For once the president smiled. "Well, let's hold him to that promise, shall we?"

To: Tom Margera of bat-104
From: Alex Tehrani, Secretary of State
Date: Aug. 12, 2006
Re: Start packing

Be on notice that the Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico has named you ambassador to The Wolf Guardians. You are to report to the nearest State Department office immediately, where you will be furnished your credentials, passport, visa, one-way airline tickets, and State Department "escorts," who will accompany you via government limo to Paradise City International Airport, and put your sorry ass on the next flight to Origin City. We have already informed the Alpha Elect of our acceptance of their envoy, and have promised one in return, and they will be very disappointed indeed if we didn't hold to it. Of course, you'd know nothing about that, now would you?

"So the regional partners have been mostly amenable to the revised draft of Allied Antarctic Asskickers Treaty?" Fernanda asked with intense uninterest, trying his best not to doze off during his daily international affairs briefing.

"Yes, sir," replied Sec. Tehrani. "Now about Bast ..."

"Oh, not this shit again!" protested the Destructor. "I am sick of hearing about this country losing its cat! Tell 'em to go to the pound and get a new one, for Christ's sake!"

"Would you be willing to hear about the hippies, then?"

"Fine. What about the stupid hippies?"

"The airports are now clogged with them -- masses of hairy, smelly, stoned, nearly comatose freaks wearing tie-dye and Birkenstocks and trying to get seats on flights to Ardrigh, smoking out and harassing passengers and handing out flowers to airport security and banging their tambourines and singing 'Come Together.'"

"Yeesh! Any chance we can order airport personnel to give them one-way tickets only?"

"Already done, Mr. President. And several hundred, by some miracle, have already arrived in Ardchoillean capital and are protesting on the campus of the University of Ardchoille, holding up signs and pleading for peace and love and railing against the evil corporations."

"Speaking of evil corporations, wouldn't something like this only be helping Artichoke-ville's tourist industry?"

"Hippies? I really don't think they have much spending money, sir. From what I hear, they're not even planning on staying in hotels; they're just going to build a shanty village outside the university."

"And hold a music festival?"

"I think so, Mr. President. Although before long we're sure the wizards will turn them all into ... cute little bunny rabbits, or whatever. And all the hippies that never found their way to the capital, and are currently wandering the Ardchoillean countryside in their psychedelically painted electric cars, goovy hippie-mobiles that break down every ten miles; we're sure they'll be running into Ardchoillean traffic cops before long."

Wait a second," the president asked confusedly. "They actually bothered ferrying their hippie vans all the way from Antarctica to ... aw, never mind."

"Speaking of which, Mr. President, there still are roves of hippie hitchhikers on our highways, holding up signs reading 'Ardrigh' trying to catch free rides to join their friends ... being Kennyites, sir, they're too stupid to realize you can't drive to Ardchoille from Antarctica."

"They're freezing their asses off, too, standing on the side of the road like that?"

"Most undoubtedly, sir. And we're certain a few Good Samaritans picking up these vagrants will be driving their cars into the ocean, trying to find Ardchoille."

"Excellent."

"Sammy," Tehrani turned to the UN ambassador (who was also sitting there for some reason), "as long as you're here, why don't you brief the president on United Nations developments?"

"Good, I could use a nap," said the president, pulling out a pillow.

"Mr. President," Debbie interrupted them, "an urgent call from the ambassador to Ceorana."

Fernanda groaned and picked up the phone: "Yes? ... uh-huh ... Huh? ... What the ... ?" He held the phone out to the ambassador. "It's for you," he said with befuddlement.

Sammy took the receiver. "Yeah, Crystal, what do you want?" He didn't bother asking her how she knew he was in the president's office.

"Sammy!" squawked his sister's voice on the other end. "I didn't know you owned a cat!"

"I don't."

"Well, there's this big cat that stowed away in your suitcase that I stole! -- er, 'borrowed.' It's so cute! Can I keep him?"

"It's not our cat, Crystal."

"But she's so adorable! I've put little pink bows in her hair and named her Betsy!"

"I think it's a boy cat," explained Sammy.

"I thought you said you didn't know her?"

"Yeah, I think I know whose cat that is."

"Well, you can't have her back! I wanna keep her!"

"Crystal, you can't--!" A crashing noise on Crystal's end.

"What was that?"

"Oh, Betsy just jumped onto the coffee table, and it crushed under her weight! Oh, she's so precious!"

Unfazed by the table's collapse, Bast lifted a paw and started to clean it. Back in the president's office, Sammy rolled his eyes and handed the phone back to the Destructor.

"What was that all about?" asked the president as he hung up the phone.

"I think Jack Riley is trying to frame me, Mr. Destructor, sir."

"Really?" Fernanda sneered. "And who the fuck is 'Jack Riley'?!"

Despite the fun they had had unleashing the lawyers, it was a subdued group that eventually fell gasping into the comfortably worn chairs at the top of the uncomfortably worn stairs in the Presidential attic in the highest tower of the University of Ardrigh.

"I have to admit, I'm getting seriously worried," Dicey confided. "I mean, there are so many ways Bast could have let us know he's all right. Teleportation, telepathy ... he could have scribbled a note and sent it telekinetically ... he could have told the Rodents in the walls to bring us a message ... he could have Appeared ..."

"Mucks up the wireless reception, though, that sort of thing does," Ben Chifley noted, "And we're playing ... well, I forget who, but somebody important."

"Australia's playing, not us. Get a grip, Ben! This isn’t your little fantasy world, this is real!" his co-President said crossly. "Anyway, Bast wouldn't care about the cricket broadcast if he wanted to get through. Or ... if he was ... able."

She stood sadly at the window, a wan, diminished figure. Dicey still, Dicey not talking, was a sight poignant beyond bearing. John McGonnagle noted the thinness of the hand holding back the heavy curtains, saw the knuckles whiten as she suddenly leaned forward and flung open the windows --

"NO, Dicey!" he cried, springing to grab her round the waist and haul her bodily from incipient self-defenestration. "You've got so much to live for!"

"You bloody bet I have!" she said enthusiastically, with a throaty chuckle. "Look down there, lads!"

From far below rose a thready chorus: "Kumbayaa, my lord, kumbayaa ..."

"You mean our beloved, long-lost and much-regretted region mate, the nation of Kumbayaa, has returned?" queried Chifley.

"No, it's a mob of hippies!" Dicey chortled delightedly. "And check out that one!"

Her colleagues concentrated their magical vision to see clearly the imposing figure (dusty striped caftan, worn Roman sandals, tall pointy hat) that was clinging to the Fountain of Feline First Contact in the University courtyard.

With a knobbly and still bleeding staff inexpertly hacked from one of the rare and valued meh-trees of Ardchoille, he was conducting a ragged choir of hippies, students and post-docs. His unruly black hair and beard danced wildly in the wind, sunlight highlighting the silver threads.

Dicey was swiftly hoicking her skirts up to her knees for greater ease of stair-galloping when a cheer floated up from down below. McGonnagle stuck his head out the window.

“The Nemonicans, I think,” he said, smiling.

A gentle rain of Frisbees and hacky-sacks was descending on the mob, to be seized upon by Ardchoilleans and imported Kennyites alike.

“You can always count on your region-mates in a crisis,” Ben Chifley observed sagely. “And just in time, too. We need something to keep them amused until we get things sorted, and we were running out of flags to burn.”

McGonnagle queried him with a look.

“From before we got Ausserland to do us a new flag, I mean,” Chifley explained. “It was becoming a terrible nuisance storing the old ones. You have to dispose of flags respectfully or your toes turn black, or something.”

Having studied vexillology, Dicey could have corrected him on this point. But she didn’t. She was already down in the courtyard.

“… and Keeper of the Ancient Mysteries,” the others overheard her explaining in her best New-Age-Speak as they reached ground level. “And you are …?”

“I am their GrandAlf,” intoned the apparent leader.

“Pre-inflated, apparently,” muttered McGonnagle.

(OOC: More to come, Kenny -- we haven't even had the Ritual Baths or the Looping of the Ley-lines yet -- but I'm having computer access problems.)

For many decades now, the Federal Republic of Ohmygodtheykilledkenny has baffled, perplexed and generally intrigued sociologists, anthropologists and psychiatrists in Ariddia. The Secretariat for External Affairs has therefore decided to initiate formal diplomatic relations, in the hopes of better understanding the values, mentality and general insanity of Kennyites (and particularly their leaders).

Mindful of... potential health hazards which come with residing in Paradise City, Ariddia would, if acceptable, be providing its ambassador with two armoured cars, a dozen uzi-wielding guards, an armoured helicopter, and maybe a rocket-launcher or two to defend against thugs, diplomats and other Kennyites of questionable intentions. This would make Ariddia's embassy to OMGTKK by far the most ressource-expensive Ariddian embassy anywhere.

The PDSRA's chosen ambassador is Her Excellency Comrade Dr. Jane Ranomezanjanahary-Souvanhnavongsa-Fincfeuiaki. Comrade Ranomezanjanahary-Souvanhnavongsa-Fincfeuiaki is 38 years of age, and has a doctoral thesis in politics and social studies from the University of Rêvane (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/University_of_R%C3%AAvane). She has an interest in "those primitive capitalist societies", as she puts it, and may one day become Ariddia's ambassador to the United Nations, should Ambassador Zyryanov finally feel the strain of General Assembly debates. With this in mind, the Secretariat for External Affairs believes that residing in OMGTKK should prepare Ambassador Ranomezanjanahary-Souvanhnavongsa-Fincfeuiaki for anything she might have to face in the UN.

If the Federal Republic would name and describe an ambassador to the PDSRA in return, he or she would also be added to our list of ambassadors to and from Ariddia (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Ariddian_government_officials_and_diplomats).

My dear communist bastards,

We are gratified to learn that you have applied to join our beloved psychosis of international (mis)understanding and f(r)iendship, and we will not disappoint. At the personal direction of President Fernanda (who recalled a friendly exchange (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11116700&postcount=3847) he had with your UN representative at the Strangers' Bar), the Federal Republic intends to grant your request for an embassy, open a full diplomatic exchange with your (woefully misguided) regime, grant the rights to real estate on Van Diesel Road's embassy strip, welcome Dr. Ranomezanjanahary-Souvanhnavongsa-Fincfeuiaki as ambassador extraordinaire and plenipotentiary acting with full authority to speak for the Ariddian government, accept her credentials at 10 Frowning Street, Paradise City, at such time as she may be available to present them, turn the old red devil loose on an unsuspecting general public, randomly arrest her for being a communist on a Tuesday, sentence her to death by the electric chair ("Strap her in, turn up the juice, and watch her head explode! Yeehaw!!"), suddenly remember she is entitled to diplomatic immunity (God-damned international obligations! Bah!), release her, turn her loose again on an unsuspecting general public, randomly arrest her for being a communist on a Saturday ... and the cycle will continue thus.

Our Office of Ironic (and Hilarious!) Diplomatic Assignments has recommended that we designate as our counterpart envoy in Rêvane Tad Braxton (http://athens.indymedia.org/local/webcast/uploads/metafiles/61kznyg.jpg), one of the many neocommunist agitators who have made life in Paradise City a living hell these past few years. Braxton was recently arrested for vandalizing a local business here during one of them large-scale "antiglobalization" protests (read: "pissfests") these morons like to hold. We were going to deal with him in the usual fashion, but then we realized that declaring him a terrorist and shipping him off to our military prison on Tiki Taki would have been so last year, and besides, lots of people loot McDonalds'; it's sort of a national pasttime. In Braxton's case, it would be a lot more fun rather to put into practice the manifest wisdom of an old Kennyite maxim: "Move to Ariddia if you don't like it, stupid commie!" So off he goes.

We pray you find Mr. Braxton an acceptable choice to represent our fair Federal Republic.

Screw you,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

[OOC: :p! (nice wiki stuff, btw)]

Dear Mr. Tehrani,

We are most gratified to know that you will be making Dr. Ranomezanjanahary-Souvanhnavongsa-Fincfeuiaki (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Jane_Ranomezanjanahary-Souvanhnavongsa-Fincfeuiaki) feel welcome in Paradise City. Her Excellency is looking forward to, I quote, "having a very interesting time".

Ambassador Tad Braxton is most welcome to Ariddia, and will be kept under close guard - as I believe is standard procedure for most Kennyite ambassadors abroad. The embassy will be located in our capital city, Rêvane, in close proximity to a police station, a fire brigade and a psychiatric hospital.

Please assure President Fernanda that Ambassador Zyryanov well recalls their conversation at the Strangers' Bar (in her own words, "not the kind of thing you can easily forget"), and that she has warned... erm, told Ambassador Ranomezanjanahary-Souvanhnavongsa-Fincfeuiaki all about him.


Louis Jacobson,
Secretary for External Affairs,
PDSRA


[OOC: :p ! (nice wiki stuff, btw)]

Thanks. Your wiki articles are always fun to read.

SPLASH!

"And this little ducky went nibble nibble nibble ..."

"Ooooh!" *giggle* "Ooooh!"

Dicey and the hippies' GrandAlf were enjoying the pre-Ritual Bath ritual bath.
________________________________

" ... a bus-load of Bahgumian Mothers-In-Law! Just arrived! Downstairs!"

McGonnagle panicked. He knew why Dicey had invited the MILs; they were insurance, just in case Omigodtheykilledkenny sent in the stripper commandos. But they hadn't, they'd sent hippies. And if Bahgumian MILs ever caught sight of a hippie ... "What are we going to do?" he muttered distractedly.

"Let me handle this." Ben Chifley stood up, knocked out his pipe, smoothed his silver hair, straightened the silk handkerchief in his breast pocket and fastened a red carnation in the lapel of his old-fashioned suit.

"I regret that I have but one charisma to give for my country," he said quietly, before marching dauntlessly into the bus-station. "Bingo in the Great Hall, ladies," he cried, one hand moving in a subtle magical gesture that furnished the most sacredly imposing architecture in Ardchoille with folding tables, cheap cards and blunt pencils. "Time for us to go to Heaven, anyone there got legs-eleven?"

McGonnagle watched in awe. He'd always thought there was nothing that the public service couldn't handle, until he met the MILs. But Chifley was at ease with MILs. Chifley had been known to shake hands with farmers, kiss babies, hug beauty queens and even do mugshots with candidates.

Sometimes, though McGonnagle hated to admit it, there was a use for ... politicians.
________________________________

All over the back roads of Ardchoille roamed the hippie influx. All over the back roads of Ardchoille roamed the wandering half-naked Nemonicans.

"Cool, man," sighed the hippies, noting the utter ethnic authenticity of the Nemonicans. People who wore strange little hats like breadloaves on their heads, who dressed (when they did) in lap-laps fashioned from woven car-seats presented in mistaken neighbourliness by the Ardchoilleans, who wove Eyes of God and painted Eyes of Horus and pentagrams and man-woman-birth-death-infinity signs all over their quaint wooden carts and ancient automobiles (which, had anyone looked under the bonnets, were hotted-up, maintained and tuned to an expert degree unseen outside Hotrodia, but that's another story); how could such a people be anything but repositories of ancient wisdom, sages divorced from the corruption of the modern age, gurus ...

"Welcome. Join us. Have some," invited the Nemonicans, never once actually, incontrovertibly saying that the substance they offered was the famed Solace Chamomile from Mikitivity, revered for its almost religious effects. "Ritual Bath," they added. "Cleanse the spirit." They pointed the dusty Kennyite newcomers to some of the briskest mountain streams in the region, but, oddly, failed to participate themselves -- possibly because they were already thoroughly cleansed by the nice hot water conveyed by modern plumbing all around their advanced cities, which they left only for their traditional end-of-semester, theatrically primitive wander-breaks.
_______________________________________

"Hippies are people who reject the basic assumptions of the society in which they were born," said the GrandAlf, reaching for a loofah. "And what, Madam Co-President, would you say was the basic assumption of Kennyite society?"

"Duh," said Dicey, not paying attention as she wriggled around to have her back scrubbed.

"Duh. Precisely. The basic assumption of Kennyite society is Duh. Dumbness," agreed the GrandAlf. "Which means that those who reject it are the not-dumbs. The intelligentsia. Thus, in leaving our homeland, we have had our revenge. We have lowered its collective IQ even further."

Modestly, the GrandAlf refrained from suggesting that he and his cohorts had raised Ardchoille's. But Dicey was an apt and eager student.

"IQ goes up, IQ goes down. IQ goes up ... " she said, demonstrating. With, of course, the loofah.

Being the pink-ribboned pet pussycat of the pink-ribboned Pet who represented Kennyite interests in the sober nation of Ceorana had been quite relaxing for Bast.

Indeed, he'd needed the time to recover. Bundled by a befuddled Riley into what looked like an ordinary suitcase, he had almost panicked when he found he couldn't get out. The thing was totally impervious to magic! Not just coming in, but going out, too! So he couldn't even send a "Come open this bloody lock!" message into the ether.

If he had been a mere human magician, rather than a truly Magical Creature, he would have starved to death. But even the best magic-blocker can't prevent magic that's in the genes. He had shape-shifted his substance into a variety of bacteria and moulds, lodging his consciousness in the most aggressive of the bacteria, which had then eaten the moulds.

Not before they'd oozed into the fragile connections of the weapon, though. For this was no ordinary suitcase; it was the Kennyite's portable planetbuster, concealed beneath a false bottom in what looked like insanely expensive designer-label luggage (so there really was a reason why Mlle Ambasssador hadn't been able to fit her clothes in; wonder how her brother would react to that bit of info?).

The whole thing combined a high Eeewww! factor with a low believability factor. For weeks, released from the suitcase, Bast had lain more or less dormant; eating every dainty that was prepared for the new ambassador's cat, occasionally condescending to purr or bat at a catnip mouse, and doing little more exhausting than maintain the glamour that kept everyone seeing him as a standard-size puddytat. Plus, of course, learning quite a bit about life in Ceorana; but that was another story.

Today, though, he felt considerably better. Today he would try to contact the folks at home (they must be frantic, he thought, complacently). He stretched out the merest tendril of thought, hoping to find a nearby cybercrystal relay ...

And felt a giant hand catch him by the scruff of the neck! Hauled into the Otherworld, he caught glimpses of magic at work; recognised with relief a glowing scarlet and silver double-helix, the familiar mage-forms of Dicey and the High Priest; noted hundreds of others, all colours, gold, green, even the powerful but inexplicable Pink Wizard ...

He fell into the chilly waters of the Lake outside the Great Hall at Ardrigh. Sputtering and snarling, as any cat would, he nonetheless set out gratefully for shore.

Then Jack Riley tried to drown him.

Twenty minutes later, dried off and hogging the fire's warmth from a strategic spot on the hearthrug in the High Priest's opulent rooms, Bast asked the vital question:

"Why -- for Herself's sake, why, Dicey -- did you bring him along?"

Distant door-hammering, plus a repeated cry that might have been, "Wanna see da puddytat! Wanna wanna wanna!", made it clear to whom he referred. Riley had a very distinctive pattern of door-hammering.

"I was going to ask you the same question," said Dicey carefully. "Do you feel well enough to discuss it yet?"

"He'd better!" cut in McGonnagle. "Somebody's getting sent to Your Room over this, I don't care who it was or how important they are! It's near enough to treason ... " The question of whether Ardchoille actually had treason laws momentarily derailed his train of thought, but outrage got him back on track. "Have any of you given one second's thought to the international ramifications - "

"If we send him back fast enough, there may not be any ramifications," Ben Chifley interrupted. "Let's not start holding post-mortems until we've got a body, comrades."

The High Priest looked up from the cloud of vari-coloured equations that had been forming round his head. "Actually, if you try sending him back, I'm afraid that's exactly what you'll have. A body, I mean. If you look at this and this ... (two red equations fluttered down to perch on his index finger) ... and take this into consideration (a blue one joined them) ... plus the poor man's already dangerously inflated credibility index, not to mention the transfundibular effects of the newly enlightened Kennyite hippies, multiplied by ..."

He launched into a flood of magical techno-babble, which was soon challenged by Dicey. A green equation lanced from her hand, knocking one of the blue ones off its perch; the room was briefly filled with swirling butterflies ("I told you not to bring Kaos Theory into this!"); but at last the pair turned to their audience, both petting a large purple equation that had settled fatly on the High Priest's shoulder.

"He's right, you know," Dicey announced sunnily. "If we send Riley back, it'd kill him!"

"And what are you so pleased about?" McGonnagall demanded, affronted to his public service soul by the thought that politicians could crunch numbers better than he could. "Did you pull this one, Madame? Is this one of your funny little jokes? Did you think there wasn't anything worse we could do to you, now that you're already Co-President? Because if you did --"

"She didn't," said the High Priest, for once decisively. "We're never going to find out who did. It was such a major working, and there are so many variables, particularly when you consider that we had to harness the unrealised magical potential of the younger Kennyites ... (an agitated flock of small orange equations huddled in his lap. Stroking them soothingly, he continued) ... such that, if even one person of the hundreds we had gathered there today gave so much as a nano-second's thought to there being a link between Bast and Riley, we were almost bound to pick him up, too. I suppose I should have seen it coming, really."

Ben Chifley, who had been having a whispered conference with someone at the door, turned back to the gathering, a grubby-looking flyer in his hand. "I suppose we should have seen this coming, too," he said. "The bit about Bast is irrelevant now, of course. But I'm not too happy about this bit. The Kennyites want your new friend, Dicey, on tax charges."

He passed her the flyer, one of the many that had been scattered around the Strangers Bar at the UN:

P.P.S. Your "GrandAlf" owes at least $4 million in back taxes. Please remand him to the nearest Kennyite consulate so he may be properly extradited. Thank you.

"They'll never get away with this!" she gasped. "We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills ..."

"Point one, we shan't. It's against our entire pacifist internationalist principles," said McGonnagle. "Point two, I guess we'll be voting AGAINST on that International Extradition Treaty, then."

With some satisfaction, he flipped pages on his clipboard until he could tick off another annoying task from his To Do list.

FROM: TJ Ross, Prime Minister of Dancing Bananland
TO: Manuel Fernanda, President of OMGTKK
SUBJECT: Embassy Exchange

We would like to open up diplmomatic relations with OMGTKK, we have an empty embassy ready to be re-decorated and inhabited, and we will be providing our ex-Foreign Affairs minister Kirk "slightly-mad" Banndar as ambassador, because jail is too good for him.

The Aristocratic Thalassocracy of Myroria (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Myroria) would find it a pleasure to exchange embassies with the great nation of Omigodtheykilledkenny. If you so choose, our ambassador to you will be the Duke Eberhard Guurith, brother of the Foreign Relations Chancellor, and Governor of the Colony of Guurith.

Garth Grutrith, Imperial Scribe.

We would like to open up diplmomatic relations with OMGTKK, we have an empty embassy ready to be re-decorated and inhabited, and we will be providing our ex-Foreign Affairs minister Kirk "slightly-mad" Banndar as ambassador, because jail is too good for him.Attn: His Excellency, Prime Minister TJ Ross,

Another criminal, huh? Fine, we'll take him, and stash him in one of them black sites the CPESL operates does not operate just outside Paradise City. We intend to reciprocate with an envoy of our own: Dayton Cummings, the Baseball Rookie of the Year for 2005. We assure you Mr. Cummings is of impeccable character, above-average intelligence, and is highly respected as a promising young star athlete -- or at least he was, until he was fired from the Xt'Kalifia Militants in May for selling off all his team's equipment so he could score some blow, and taking a bunch of scandalous pictures of his manager's wife and posting them on the Internet (you can view them on ).

Incidentally, here is a [url=http://www.departments.dsu.edu/athletics/men/baseball/Athlete's%20Bios/Michael%20Doyle/Baseball%20Head%20Shots%20059.jpg]photo (]stupidblondebimbos.kny[/url) of OMGTKK's new ambassador to Dancing Bananland (from happier days at De Salle University, before his public shame), and also, here's the missing letter from your nation's name!:

http://www.allaboardtoys.com/assets/product_imagess/BN-7000elmo.jpg

(Yeah, we stole it. Wanna make something of it?)The Aristocratic Thalassocracy of Myroria (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Myroria) would find it a pleasure to exchange embassies with the great nation of Omigodtheykilledkenny. If you so choose, our ambassador to you will be the Duke Eberhard Guurith, brother of the Foreign Relations Chancellor, and Governor of the Colony of Guurith.Attn: Mr. Grutrith,

We are pleased to announce that we have approved you embassy request, as well as your proposed ambassador. In return we will dispatch as ambassador to Myroria ... um, someone. I'm sure we have some unused diplomat lying around ... Hang on. ... <spins Roladex and picks out the first card at random> ... Ah, he we go. Paradoasm Banofshon (http://images.ratedesi.com/gallery/83274_1140929981.jpg). It says here he is a senior international-relations protocol officer and chief attache in the Office for Transnational Cultural Exchange and Promotion of Trade Relations. I think he staples briefing documents together for more important officials, or something. He may also have been in that "Harold and Kumar" movie. I don't know. We never bothered to find out if that rumor was true. (What do you expect? We're diplomats, not resume checkers!)

Anyway, now he's your ambassador. Enjoy!Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

Just one day was enough to convince the Ardchoilleans that Frowning Street had, for once, done something right. The day it had hauled Riley out of his job and hidden him away in Kawaii must have been a full moon, or something; it had undoubtedly been a time when national intelligence had briefly surged to almost normal heights. Riley was unbearable.

With the heavies of the national government away at the UN (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11774352&postcount=4214) trying to cover up their gaffe, the lower levels were left to tend to the insane ex-dignitary. At first, given his constant cries about the "puddytat", it had seemed all that was needed was a cat companion. Bast's own litter-mate Nefer had volunteered ...

Cats are both less tolerant and more violent than humans. The scratches were easily tended, but Nefer's fur took a-a-ages to settle, and her views on marriage, prostitution, necrophilia, sapient rights, free trade and other typically UN topics -- for which she blamed Riley's state -- were never quite as liberal as before.

Desperate, the administration took to paying high-school kids babysitters' rates to stay with Riley while his wits wandered. They shared their favourite computer games with him, and for a time all was well as Jack Riley, Intergalactic Hero, eliminated fleet after fleet. But Riley tired of pressing buttons. His eyes began to grow wild again; he twitched, he jumped at unseen attacks -- and it was Jimmy the Nerd's turn to Riley-watch.

"Have you ever played CountryProvinces?" the boy demanded eagerly, hardly through the doors. "I've just started, and it's ace. It's this MMORPG, and you make your own country, and then you oppress it, and ... look, you just have to click on the email ..."

By the time somebody thought to check on why the Riley quarters were so quiet, the Psychotic Dictatorship of Omigodtheysackedriley was well established. It had invaded poor Jimmy's region, kicked him from the delegacy and delilberately provoked him to send a series of increasingly upset telegrams. The site's moderators being unable to hear what Riley was actually saying to the unfortunate boy, it was curtains for him, but triumph for Riley.

"I wonder, do you think you could be so kind as to find me a copy of that book Sally Administration?" he asked with unnatural balance and cohesion as first one, then another, disbelieving bureaucrat poked their heads into the room. "That Wax Berry must be a genius!"

It seemed too good to be true, but it lasted. As long as he could play CountryProvinces to his heart's content, Riley was as sane as he'd ever been. In the intervals of playing -- because even the best servers have their off days, and www.LOLt.ard was not the best -- Riley read the book. When he finished it, he started again. Then Jimmy (whose equanimity and nation had been restored after deals involving unnatural amounts of banana bread) introduced him to The Author's other works and the two, by now fast friends, spent hours discussing the probable refinements of CountryProvinces II.

"He might even be able to travel soon," a Healer opined, checking him over from a discreet psychic distance. "Not magically, you understand, but travel, nonetheless. Provided he's never off-line."

It seemed at least one of Ardchoille's problems had been solved. Any moment now, they could do the adult equivalent of dumping the foundling Riley on the doorstep of the orphanage.Whether Frowning St would be glad to have him back was another question, but at least they'd be able to deliver him not just intact, but even value-added. Why, they could present themselves as international do-gooders, helping Riley who had so grievously harmed them (well, they'd been quite worried for a time).

The bureaucracy preened itself, waited for the return of its errant leaders and set teams of weather magicians to turn away any electrical storms that might even be thinking of disrupting the national grid.

The Great Star Empire would like to furnish a delegation to the Federal Republic, seeing that we've already gotten a Kennytie delegation.

We will be dispatching grafin Irina dan Kelyangat, the Countess of Balaban, as the head of the Delegation. Quite an accomplished woman, she graduated from Imperial University with a degree in business management, and went on to become a skilled ninja of the "Five-Thousand Blades" sect, where she holds the rank of "Heavenly Master of the 95 Ways of Death, 10th Degree."

She has been employed with the Directorate of Foreign Affairs ever since she killed several men who made catcalls without realizing who she was, and had to leave her job as Executive Director of Human Resources for the Takkarth Transgalactic company. Why a 10th-Degree Heavenly Master ninja would work in HR is beyond us.

We hope you enjoy her company. She likes long walks on the beach, parliamentary procedure, and stalking her prey for months before moving in for a silent kill.

For once, President Fernanda awoke from a dream into a nightmare, finding himself in the Kennyites' outpost (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11129107&postcount=39) in that detestable den of gnomish corruption the fluffies like to call the United Nations. As the Destructor wearily tried to reorient himself to his new surroundings, he discovered his bedsheets were damp, his head was pounding and he was naked. The home bar he'd had installed in his bedroom carried evidence of the transpirings from the night before -- assorted empty bottles of Arrogant Bastard Ale, wine bottles, tequila, shotglasses, and so forth. If there was still a drop of liquor left in Paradise City, the Kennyites should consider themselves lucky.

The president grunted as he sat upright and turned his body so he could plant his feet on the floor and reach down to search out his boxers. He heard a murmuring behind him and looked over his shoulder to find a stirring lump in his bed. Oh, right, he told himself. He'd nailed that trick (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11866171&postcount=4389) from the Strangers' Bar. Having somehow located his boxers, he quickly slipped them on and and laid back down, facing the sweetly smiling girl, and began to press her for some vital information that might have been useful before their conference.

"You got a name?" he asked.

"Oh. My name is Casandra Chase. I was the UN Rep for Karmicaria, but now I'm looking for a new job and a new place to live."

Casandra searched for her clothes. "I don't suppose the President of the Federal Republic could help me out?" she winked and smiled as she pulled on her shirt. Casandra had never really done anything like this before. There was something she wanted, but wasn't sure how to get it.

"Uhh, Karmicaria? ... Fuck. ... I mean, really?"

Hearing that nation's name was anything but reassuring. How in hell did the Federal Republic always seem to get entangled with that wretched queendom? If it wasn't infiltrating his city with callboys, or sending some girl to spy on them by training to become a Stripper Commando, or bribing him to let evil smurfs sit on the Regional Security Council, or stealing his treasury secretary, or having the nerve to demand payback for stealing his treasury secretary, it was something else. Somehow some Karmicarian skank always wanted a piece of the Destructor. Fortunately, this particular skank had caught the president in an unusually charitable mood. And she gave good head.

"You need a place to stay, huh?" he finally replied. "Well, you can kick it at my place till you find something better, I guess. Alex is in this building somewheres; you can talk to him about catching a flight to Paradise City."

Why the heck not? Fernanda thought to himself. She was pretty good in bed, and besides, allowing an uncredentialed foreign agent to stay in the executive residence shouldn't cause too much of a scandal once the press got wind of it. And it's good to keep suspicious folks close to you, so you can keep an eye on them. He'd take her in, feed her, support her, put in a good word for her, maybe get some action in return, then ... one day ... when she least expected it ... he'd steal the batteries from the remote control.

Mwahahahahahahaha!!!!!

"Stay at your place? Sure, I guess that will work, at least until I can find a place of my own. I'll have to get a job so I can help out. I don't want you or anyone else thinking that I'm helpless and can't support myself."

She hadn't expected the Destructor to be so generous. She wasn't going to argue though, especially not knowing how often this happened.

"I'll finish getting cleaned up and dressed, then I'll try to find this Alex person. Will there be someone to take me to your place in Paradise City or will I have to find it on my own?"

Sec. Tehrani frowned as he considered his boss at his temporary post behind Sammy's desk. The former could not say he approved of many of the decorations in his deputy's office -- many of the ambassador's Kawaiian "souvenirs" seemed to have been illegally obtained -- and the proposal he was hearing now from his UN seat-filler was even more disagreeable.

"This is a terrible idea, Mr. President," he finally said.

"What's so terrible about it? She's kinda hot! And she gives killer--"

"I know; you already told me all about Casandra's fellatial prowess," Tehrani interrupted with disgust.

"I was thinking we could make her the ambassador from Karmicaria," Fernanda said.

"You know we can't do that, sir; that's the queendom's decision to make."

"Well, if Gatesville can do it, so can we!"

"Well, I highly doubt the queen's officials will agree to your proposition making your bedroom the Karmicarian embassy!"

"And why not?" the Destructor demanded. "I get a lot accomplished there! I can tell you stories ..."

"I have heard them all, Mr. President, so don't even bother. You do realize, this is the same Casandra Chase who intelligence officials believe spoke with a foreign government about spying on our nation by infiltrating the Stripper Commandos?"

"Aw, who cares what the intelligence dudes think? They're always wrong."

"Yes, sir. But I still think we should send her back home--"

"You think nothing, Alex. This is my call. Casandra's staying with me."

"Fine. Just take it easy on this one, will you? The facilities manager keeps complaining about you breaking your bed."

"Heh. Wonder what the cleaning staff thinks about what I did to my bathroom last time?"

A groan. "It's still a little early in the day for this, Mr. President."

Fernanda only laughed.

* * * * *

Tehrani greeted Casandra in the impressively decorated sitting room in OMGTKK's UN office suite. "Please sit down," he invited, indicating a comfortable-looking couch. She complied.

"Now, my boss has instructed me to give you this--" he said, holding out provisional Frowning Street credentials. "You are welcome to use our portal back to Paradise City. Of course, you'll land in the basement of a crackhouse, but don't worry about those crackwhores -- they're all talk! You'll find 10 Frowning Street is just across the street. Show them your pass and take the elevator to the top floor, which is the president's residence. Wait there until you hear further advisories from this government. Do you have any questions?"

...

After receiving assurances that the Karmicarian understood what he'd told her, the secretary stood and shook her hand. "We look forward to working with you, in whatever capacity that may be, Ms. Chase," he said. As he headed for the door, he turned back suddenly.

"Don't steal anything from the executive residence," he added sternly.

Casandra listened intently. She was happy with the way things were working out so far. "Thank you. I'll get myself set up in the President's residence. Don't worry about me stealing anything. That's not what I do." she smirked. Casandra was pretty sure that he didn't believe her.

"Now, as for working for the Federal Republic, what will I be doing?" she paused. "Maybe I should rephrase that. What is it that you or the President want me to do?"

"Maybe I should rephrase that. What is it that you or the President want me to do?""Um, don't get yourself in trouble? Avoid the penguins?

"You will not be 'working' for us, Ms. Chase, although the president may have some 'special tasks' in mind for you -- most of them likely involving activities even the CPESL won't let him do.

"If the press gets wind of this arrangement, however, the president may well find you a cushy job so he can stash you somewhere out of the way. How's that sound?"

TO: Manuelo Fernanda, President of OMGTKK
SUBJECT: Embassy Exchange

So here's the deal, Queen Adrienne has agreed to let Casandra be our ambassador. Have her and do what you will with her. We will have her things sent to Paradise City. Please try to keep her in one piece.

Samara Rein
Minister of Foreign Affairs
Queendom of Karmicaria

Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: Her Royal Majesty Queen Adrienne of Karmicaria, and Minister Rein
Subject: Embassy Exchange

The Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico has asked that I relay his personal gratitude to Her Majesty for agreeing to send him a new playmate -- er, "ambassador" -- and he has (unwisely) elected to accept Ms. Chase's designation as the queendom's chief envoy. The Karmicarian embassy is to be located in the president's residence at 10 Frowning Street. Rest assured, Ms. Chase will be quite safe there -- safe, that is, until Paradise City's notorious rioters commence hurling shit through the window. Then she should start panicking. In the meantime, the Federal Republic would be pleased to establish a counterpart embassy in Karma City. Our ambassador-designate will be Mr. Mark Reyes, an heir to the substantial Reyes hotel fortune and younger brother of the famed trashy hotel heiress Tammy Reyes, who is currently serving as our ambassador to the Federated Klatchian Coast and filming (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9966796&postcount=64) a reality TV show there. Mr. Reyes' main duties as ambassador will be excessive drinking, partying, clubbing, starting barfights, assaulting waitresses for not knowing "who my fucking father is?!", and possibly serving as a KCU (http://z11.invisionfree.com/Antarctic_Oasis/index.php?showtopic=33) "serviceman" on the side. (Hey, if you guys can foist on us someone who tried to infiltrate our government by becoming a military stripper, we can certainly do the same in return -- only substitute the "military stripper" part with "professional boytoy.") Mr. Reyes is to be assisted by Deputy Amb. Gregory Hunter, a respected former Kennyite diplomat who will speak for the Federal Republic most of the time. Accompanying them will be a small security detail of about 35 Antarctic-native commandos to be led by Cmdr. Arrrrrrraaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkk! (http://www.maxwaugh.com/images/zoo05/penguin2.jpg), our designated security attaché to the queendom. Also serving our embassy will be 45 protocol officers, 15 Foreign Service volunteers, six interpreters, 20 attractive female interns, 18 gofers, nine coffee-boys, four calling-birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and an elderly receptionist named Bertha. Our delegation will require digs in a modest (http://yasui.anjiro.com/~anjiro/pictures/2003_japan/tokyo/tn/07100021.med.jpg) embassy compound, a stretch Hummer for the ambassador's use, 45 SUVs, 76 Mercedes Benzes, 35 superfluous government limos, and 16 armored Humvees for our troops.

We pray this arrangement will be the starting point for many pleasant negotiations between our two great nations. Tell Sec. Batko-Yovino we said hi.

http://specialevents.com/newsletter/jesse_metcalfe.jpg
Mr. ReyesSincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

Attn:Manuelo Fernanda, President of Omigodtheykilledkenny, Alex Tehrani, Secretary of State
Subject: Embassy Exchange

We would like to inform you that her Royal Majesty, Queen Adrienne had agreed to your terms and welcomes Mr. Mark Reyes as ambassador for Omigodtheykilledkenny. The Federal Republic's embassy will be located at 123 Fake Street (http://i54.photobucket.com/albums/g93/JamieNesci/Other%20Pics/condo.jpg). There will be plenty of room for Mr. Reyes um...companions and escorts. As for Mr. Reyes serving as a KCU "serviceman", we do currently have an opening. He is more than welcome to apply. We will give you a stretch Hummer for the ambassador's use, 35 SUVs, 40 Mercedes Benzes, no superfluous government limos, as our government does not use them nor do we actually have any, and 16 armored Humvees for our troops. but these will have to be shared with the Karmicarian troops since we do not have enough to go around yet.

I do hope that this arrangement will meet your approval. You should feel lucky that you're getting anything at all. Queen Adrienne is in a rather generous mood these days.

We look forward to doing business with the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny.

Samara Rein
Minister of Foreign Affairs
Queendom of Karmicaria

P.S. If you would like to send someone from the Federal Republic to the wedding of Dahlia Black to Accelerus Dioce (http://forums3.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=505646), feel free. No need to let anyone know. I'm sure the celebration could use some livening up.

Also, do we need to provide fish for Cmdr. Arrrrrrraaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkk!?

FAO: Samara Rein, Karmicaria Ministry of Foreign Affairs
From: Kenny's One-Stop Diplomacy Shop!
Subject: Embassy Exchange, etc.

Your accommodations suit us fine. But actually, our corporate puppetmasters have already indicated they would furnish all the necessary arrangements for our embassy, to be paid out in the form of advertising revenues, royalties, wire transfers from the Cayman Islands, and stock options, totalling roughly 855 million tree-fiddy over a period of 175 years. Mr. Reyes also tells us he is interested in attending Amb. Black's wedding, saying something about "Gotta build a customer base somewhere!", and, "A wedding attended by a bunch of sappy, teary-eyed single women thinking about romance is as good a place as any."

Thanks for doing business with the best! (... And we are the best! :p)This Kenny Embassy brought to you by Arrogant Bastard Ale™: "You're not worthy."

FAO: Alex Tehrani, Secretary of State, Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny
From: Varia Yefremova, Speaker for International Relations, Cloud-Water Community of Ecopoeia

Dear Alex,

As you are no doubt well aware, the Cloud-Water Community has grown introspective of late, rarely involving itself in affairs beyond the Alçaeran continent. However, we recognise that our reticence has impacted negatively on bonds - however unlikely - forged on the global stage. This communication is one part of our efforts to address this unfortunate development.

I am thus authorised to offer to the Federal Republic an exchange of ambassadors, a move that we hope will strengthen cultural and, to a limited degree, economic ties. Our nations have cultivated a relationship that has often been fractious but we see merit in persistence.

I look forward to your reply.

Kind regards,
Varia Yefremova
Speaker for Interational Relations
The Cloud-Water Community of Ecopoeia

PS: i trust you're well, alex? and how's my old friend, riley? he seems to have gone awol... v

Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: Varia Yefremova, Ecopoeian* Speaker for International Relations
Subject: Your Request

The Federal Republic would be delighted to establish formal diplomatic relations with the Cloud-Water Community. Believe it or not we are not all that averse to hosting filthy commie emissaries in Paradise City; we still got some Ariddian gal gallivanting around town, raising hell, protesting with the bastard neocommunist agitators, and generally pissing off our corporate puppetmasters. Umm ... did I say "corporate puppetmasters"? Because I meant to say "lovely people who are only too happy to fund our operations in exchange for some not-so-obvious tax loopholes"! We were going to pull a page from the book of Yelda and exhume and reanimate the corpse of another devilish Soviet leader to make our ambassador to your fair nation, but the thought of a zombie Lenin waddling through the streets with outstretched arms and moaning "Must ... crush ... capitalism!" didn't really fly when we considered what effects it would have on your civilian population. I mean, the abject poverty is bad enough without subjecting them to daily horror-film terrors ... *ahem!* ... Excuse me. I mean, "freedom fights." Besides, it would be better form to designate a more experienced envoy to a friendly fellow democratic regime such as yours.

We look forward to news of your delegation in Paradise City; at such time we will announce their accomodations as well as our counterpart assignment to Underhill.Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

P.S. I'm doing great; thanks for asking. Hope you and all your husbands are faring likewise. As for Riley, you will be pleased to know he is recovering beautifully during his stay in The Eternal Kawaii (and an unscheduled stop-over in Ardrigh, Ardchoille).

* yes, we did recently acquire a spell-checker. Feel the power in our perfectly scripted missives! RAWR!!!!

FAO: Alex Tehrani, Secretary of State, Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny
From: Varia Yefremova, Speaker for International Relations, Cloud-Water Community of Ecopoeia

Alex,

Many thanks for your reply and apologies for my tardiness in reciprocating.

It is Ecopoeian diplomatic tradition to send ambassadors in pairs. With your permisson, we wish to post the following to the Federal Republic: Vesal Somayyeh and Kenneth Donleavy. The ambassadors have little in the way of special requirements:

Ms Somayyeh is a practicing Sufi and would be most grateful if the usual accommodations would be made in order that she may be able to perform her religious devotions*.

Mr Donleavy is a member of the Excessive Self-Endangerment Society (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Excessive_Self-Endangerment_Society); you may wish to research the organisation as he is likely to inquire after the availability of life-endangering pursuits in the Federal Republic.

Varia Yefremova
etc.

PS: glad you're well and also that riley's got some time off to relax. family life is as turbulent as usual; adileh (my commune-wife) is broody and wants another kid... help! - v

PPS: congrats on the spell-checker!

[OOC:

*er... whatever they may be. Prayer mats and such, plus she's a whirling dervish.

apologies for taking so long to respond - put it down to problems caused by Ecopoeia's swingeing cuts in administration spending.]

http://h1.ripway.com/reclaim/kenny-try2.gif
Department of State
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: Varia Yefremova, Ecopoeian Speaker for International Relations
Subject: Embassy detail

Give a pair get a pair. We are delighted to welcome Ms. Somayyeh and Mr. Donleavy into the OMGTKK Diplomatic Corps. Funny you should mention ESES, as we have a little "self-endangerment society" of our own in the Federal Republic, except the first rule is that we're not supposed to talk about it. But we are allowed to make their members ambassadors. In that vein, we are pleased to announce that our co-ambassadors to Ecopoeia will be Jack Edward and Tyler Bradley. They won't be around Saturday nights, owing to a set weekly commitment, but we do hope your former deputy remembers Miss Candy Jakobowicz (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10183037&postcount=6), a former intern in our UN office who has signed on to assist Mssrs. Edward and Bradley and will fill in for them from time to time. She is fluent in Celdonian, proficient at landing hot Ecopoeian guys, and looks good in a skirt. We hope you will enoy her as much as we have. Cheers.Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

P.S. Talk to Rono (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11617960&postcount=4111). He's surprisingly resourceful when it comes to these sorts of things.

Underhill, Chryse Island, Ecopoeia

Borna Mahdavikhia yawned expansively and surreptitiously glanced at his watch. Underhill Council's community service initiative had dealt him an unfavourable hand, landing him with a jarringly dull spell in customs and immigration. This was his fourth day of checking the passports of the few non-Alçaerans who found reason to visit Ecopoeia and he found himself spending most of his hours cursing the city's lottery system.

His reverie was interrupted by the arrival of a pair of brash men claiming to be from a nation called Omigo- actually, Borna hadn't the faintest idea where they were from. A prickling of sweat on his forehead made him rue the last smoke. Bad timing... One of the new arrivals was loudly declaiming his irritation at something, possibly the lack of a welcome party. Borna, desperate for quiet pointed shakily at the bar. The complaining abruptly ceased and the men left. The young Ecopoeian slumped back in his chair, relieved, when...

An angel!

A dazzling smile from ruby red lips. A heaving bosom that hinted at blissful suffocation. A microscopic skirt that seemed to Borna to be a beacon, welcoming him to the promised land.

Play it cool, play it cool!

His own lips framing a smoooth, suave opening line, Borna leaned further back, bringing his hands behind his head... and inelegantly, gracelessly toppled back as his chair gave way to gravity, his head striking the floor with a crack. The angels' concerned face emerged above him, hand to mouth, and then everything went black...

[OOC: struggling for inspiration in terms of introducing my two to Paradise City - do you fancy a shot at it?]

"Man, that was a long flight!" Jack protested as the ambassadors-designate approached the customs desk. "I don't think my ass will ever recover!"

"How do you think it will respond when it learns we've both been reduced to a civil servant's salary?" prodded Tyler.

"Forty thousand a year, each. Not too bad."

"Not very good either."

"But we're still the richest men in all of Eaecopeauoiueaia ...."

"Speaking of which, what do you think a CPESL 'service provider' goes for over here? 'Cause I could really go for one."

"I don't know if they even have CPESL ..."

"Ah, man! We've landed in hell on Earth!" Tyler lamented.

His friend ignored him. "I am Jack's giant swollen ass," he protested again.

"Would you cut that out already?!"

"How long till they actually process us?"

Tyler gazed over the desk to find their own Candy straddled over some customs agent laid back on the floor, as she bent down to lock her luscious lips with his (to give him mouth-to-mouth). A toppled chair sat near them.

"Hmm. Little red hearts."

"Huh?"

Tyler pointed. "Little red hearts, all over her panties."

Jack leaned forward to investigate the scene for himself. "We're here ten minutes, and already she's all over some guy?"

"She must be Karmicarian," Tyler opined.

"Well, what do we do in the meantime?"

"Hit me as hard as you can."

"Not this again ..."

"Dude, c'mon! Hit me!"

* * * * *

"Dr. Greene, there's a problem."

The national security adviser looked up from the notes on her desk. "A problem?"

"Kenny Air Flight 73 en route to Paradise City had to make an emergency stopover in Kennsylvania."

"Why?"

"Airline officials claim one of the passengers caused an incident."

"Incident?"

"Yes, ma'am. Flight attendants and other passengers became nervous when she asked if they had a prayer mat, if they had a problem with her kneeling in the aisle for a few minutes, and which way Mecca was."

"Did she threaten anyone or act suspiciously?"

"Not really, ma'am. But you know what the policy is: anytime a Muslim sets foot on a plane, everyone is supposed to freak out."

"Yes," Greene sighed. "I forgot about Section 21. What is the woman's name?"

"Airline officials won't release the manifest just yet, but the federal investigators who questioned her on the ground say she is no threat and the flight can continue on to Paradise City as planned."

"And they're still on the ground?"

"Well ... yes, ma'am. The networks requested it so they could air more footage of the plane and blather on about it for the next few hours."

"Excellent. Thank you ... what was your name again?"

"Oh, sorry, ma'am. I really don't have a name. I don't think they even assigned me a gender."

"Why is that?"

"Because I'm not very important to the story, I suppose."

"Well, thank you all the same, Nameless Genderless Empty Suit No. -- can we get on with this post already?"

"Certainly, ma'am."

* * * * *

Inside the fuselage, flight attendants vainly attempted to soothe the passengers, all of whom were nervously buzzing over that dangerous Muslim woman who had just been dragged off the plane. All but one, a lone man, somewhat muscular, with an air of mystery about him (and a funny accent), seemingly thirsting for adventure as he gazed out the window.

"Sir, there's nothing to worry about; we'll be proceeding to Paradise City shortly," a young male attendant assured him. "Can I get you anything in the meantime, Mr. ... I'm sorry, what was your name?"

"Kenneth," the man told him. "You can tell me one thing: what is the name of that mountain?" he asked, pointing out the window at a majestic snow-covered summit towering over the distant Antarctic Peaks.

The boy leaned down to see what the passenger saw. "Oh, that's T-73, sir, 'The Widowmaker.' The tallest mountain in the Federal Republic."

"Anyone ever try climbing that behemoth?" asked "Kenneth."

"Many, but none that succeeded. ... Least, none that lived to tell about it."

The man lit a cigarette and gave the attendant a sly smile. "That sounds like a challenge to me," he said.

Paavo was just returning home from a tour of some of the Dominion's holdings when he was informed by the pilot that his flight was being diverted to the capital city.

Great. Nothing better to finish off a long and insane trip than unnecessary delays to keep me from my bed and much needed sleep just a little bit longer.

"Did they happen to give any reason for the detour?" he asked, not actually expecting them to have given one.

"No sir, Mr Haiti. They just informed us of the alteration in our flight plan. Sorry sir."

"Don't worry about it" Paavo sighed.

When the plane landed an hour later, shortly before dawn, there was already a large black SUV waiting on the edge of the tarmac which came driving up alongside the private jet as it taxied to a halt.

At least I won't be left waiting for my ride

As he stepped out of the plane, Paavo saw that they were not unloading his baggage. They were, in fact, beginning to refuel the jet and prepare it for another flight. He approached the figures standing by the nearby vehicle. As he drew nearer, he recognized them as Jeremy Blank, his direct superior within the Ministry of Foreign Relations, and his professional assistant, Melody Riinata.

"I assume there's a reason that my bags haven't been taken off that flying death tube?"

"You always were one of the smart ones." That was Jeremy's gravelly voice. It had never failed to grate on Paavo's nerves in a way that made him want to stab something sharp into his own ears just so he wouldn't have to hear it anymore. "We've got some time before they'll be ready to take off again. Why don't you give me the run-down on the status of the Dominion's latest protectorate?'"

"Nyghtmare."

"That bad, huh?"

"What?"

"You said it was a nightmare."

sigh"No. Nyghtmare. The Republic Of Nyghtmare. Nevermind. That place frightens me."

"What? How bad could it be?"

"Economically they're sound. They maintained enough of the infrastructure during the revolution that they can rebuild and repair with little outside assistance. Politically, the new government has enough popular support that they'll stand on their own, as long as they maintain some level of normalcy for a time."

"So what's the problem?"

"The new government. They're crazy. The fact that they have the support they do from the public is what frightens me. These people were quite literally begging to be oppressed."

"Come again?"

"Literally. We need a stronger hand. One that will keep us in line. We can't deal with all the freedom. Save us from ourselves. Put us in chains if you have to."

"...that's...just..."

"Chilling? Yeah, I know. I've never seen any people so happy to be miserable. I still don't really believe that it was real, but it's all there in my report. Photos, videos, documentations, all of it. Those people are nuts. Here, take it, I don't even want to think about it anymore." Paavo handed the attache case he was carrying to Ms Riinata.

"So, what hell-hole am I being sent to now? Is there some new form of psychological torture that I'm to enjoy on this trip? What kind of depraved sickos am I being sent to study this time?"

"Nothing so severe, I assure you. After your numerous ventures into the outer edges of the Dominion's umbrella, we thought you could use something a little more stable. There's a position that we've been neglecting for too long as an permanent envoy that you should be well equipped to deal with. It involves diplomatic suites, a bullet proof car, your own hand picked personal assistants, and the responsibility of attending a number of official parties and functions."

Paavo was stunned.

"uhhh....Good. Great. Where am I heading?"

Jeremy's face contorted into a smile that lightened his features about as much as a black hole blotting out the sun would lighten the earth.

"You'll see when you get there, my friend. It's a surprise. Your plane is ready. You should get going"

Before Paavo could ask anything else, Jeremy had already returned to his seat in the SUV and closed the door. Melody turned to Paavo.

"Have a safe flight, hun. And don't worry, you'll be fine. I promise." She gave him a wink and vanished inside, hiding behind the glare cast on the windows by the freshly minted dawn.

Paavo stood for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and reboarding the plane.

"Anything to drink for the flight, sir?"

"No, thanks. I think I'm gonna try and get some more shuteye before I have to deal with more people."

"Have a good rest then, sir. We'll be taking off in just a moment."

Paavo had rather unusual dreams of anorexic androgynes wailing incoherently while they convulsed in front of hordes of faceless sycophants.

"Sir? Si-ir? Wake up Mr Haiti. We've arrived."

"Good, good" Groggily wiping the sleep from his eyes, Paavo realizes that he hasn't been asleep for very long and wonders at the meaning of the dreams as they rapidly fade from memory.

He gathers himself together and ambles towards the door. He looks outside to see what destination he has finally arrived at. His sight scans across the landscape, taking in a small flock of penguins being scattered either by the nearby ratatat of machine gun fire or the explosion of one of their brethren, the remaining vestiges of what would appear to be either an overly exuberant festival or low-key revolution, the nigh toxic smoke spewing forth from the dozens of factories within sight, the chaotic uncertainty of anything reassuring that is only explained when his eyes finally settle upon one giant billboard.

WELCOME TO PARADISE CITY

"Fuck."

"What was that, sir?"

"What? Nothing"
sigh
"Well, at least they probably keep a decent stock of Frothinslosh or Fine Yeldan on hand. Failing that, I'd put money on there being some decent entertainment."

Paavo grabs his bags and heads off to try to hail a cab to get him to somewhere that will remind him why he got into the diplomacy business. A bar sounded like a real good idea. One with a champagne lounge and large evil looking biker bouncers who could be readily paid off.

"This better be good, Alex. Cas is really frisky today."

Tehrani flopped down in a chair facing the president's desk. "It's good enough. Rumor has it a new ambassador is abroad in the land representing the Dominion of Kivisto."

"Kivisto, huh?" the president scoffed. "So that's what the sudden collective shudder of the entire nation was about? Cool. We'll do what we can to make him feel at home. Send a few Karmicarian boys to give him a proper, nightmare-inducing welcome; I won't be needing them anytime soon."

"We can make arrangements for receiving his credentials later, Mr. President. In the meantime, we should consider sending an envoy in return."

"Who are the candidates?"

Tehrani produced a file and tossed it onto the desk. "We have a short list all ready for you."

Fernanda pulled on his reading glasses and started to peruse the folder's contents. "Hmm ... a Nobel laureate ... some guy with three Ph.D.s ... a four-star general ... a former vice president and secretary of state ... a five-term senator ... a prize-winning contortionist ... nah, we can't afford to lose her; why don't you just invite her up for a private ... ?"

"Remember, Mr. President: Kivisto is one of our closest allies and powerful regional partners, and our mission there is to be one of the most important in the Kennysphere, so the person we appoint ought to be of the highest ..."

"You're right, Alex. We should just send them a standard-issue nutcase. What's Riley doing these days?"

Tehrani sighed. "Believe it or not, Riley's in line for a promotion at State," he said disdainfully. "But if you insist on a candidate for ... *ahem* ... exile, we got one of those, too."

He produced another file.

Fernanda strained the read the text as he opened it, when he realized that the glasses didn't really do anything; he only occasionally wore them when he wanted to look intellectual. "Who's this?" he asked, pointing to a mugshot.

"It's Abe DeGuzman, sir. A junior at Kenn State, currently studying pre-medicine, in his eighth year at the university, wanted for masterminding a massive fake-ID fraud, a three-time judge of Kappa Omicron Kappa's annual Wet T-Shirt Contest, and date-raper extraordinaire, until one tragic day he accidentally drugged and deflowered the university president, mistaking her for a clueless grad student ..."

"Hey, she's kinda hot," the Destructor observed, holding up a Polaroid.

"Focus, Mr. President. Anyway, last semester he illegally parked in a parking garage to a federal building across the street, got fined $500 for the infraction, used the memo of his check to inform the parking police they could service him orally, and was held in contempt of court."

"Yeah, wasn't he on the last Christmas pardon list?"

"He might have been, but he doesn't know anyone who contributed to your last campaign, so who cares? University officials are clamoring for us to issue a student visa so can 'study abroad' once his jail-term expires; they can't kick him out, for fear of being sued by Jesse Jackson for expelling a minority, so ..."

"He's as good an ambassador as any," Fernanda concluded.

"Well, his listed references at Kenn State say he doesn't know shit about diplomacy, but he's one hell of a go-go dancer."

"Excellent. We can engage the Kivistans and keep Feldstein distracted at the same time, then. I like the way you think, Alex."

"Don't pin this on me, Mr. President."

" ... and as my final act as Co-President, I think we should send a Diplomatic Note to Omigodtheykilledkenny."

The decidedly frazzled Secretary for Situations Like This looked reproachfully at the speaker. The new President, Dicey Reilly, had been bombarding him all morning with demands that he Do Something about her elevation. Now here was the previously tractable Ben Chifley adding to his headache.

"Mr Chifley, sir, why should we send them a Note?" he asked carefully. "They haven't done anything to annoy us. They don't bother us, we don't bother them."

"I know, I know," Chifley said, grinning. "I just thought it would be fun for their President to have a visit from our Ambassador. You know, Granny Dhurig. The, ah, deadish person. Besides, it's only polite to keep them apprised of changes in our government."

"They've got a subscription to the Ardrigh Herald. It came free with the ambassador. Let them read it there. Slowly."

"Tch, tch, John. A little old-fashioned politeness can do wonders to oil the wheels of diplomacy. You surely wouldn't refuse a retiring Co-President his last official request?"

Sigh.

John McGonnagle took a deep breath. Thought of the effect the undead Ambassador seemed to have on the Kennyite President. Thought about resigning. Thought about getting to his migraine tablets, which were in the cabinet Chifley was standing immovably in front of.

"i comply," said John McGonnagle.

"Why are we doing this again?"

"Because they've opened an Embassy in Antarctic Paradise. Why don't we open one in the Federal Republic? What's the worse that can happen?"

"But we don't know anything about these people. I don't think we should."

"Too late, the letter requesting an Embassy has already been written and mailed out. All we have to do now is wait for a response. Should we establish an embassy or something with their region?"

Mira looked at the files sitting on her desk. Opening one of them, she smirked. "He's kind of cute. The Destructor. That's adorable. I think we'll start by opening relations with the Federal Republic, then move on to the region. Does that sound good to you Lyra?"

"Whatever, ma'am. You're the President."

*******************

To: Manuelo Fernanda, President, The Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny
From: Mira Conor, President, The Torture Chamber of Lady Deathstrike
Subject: Embassy Exchange

Dear President Fernanda,

We would like to further open diplomatic relations with your fine nation, seeing as you have already established relations with our region. We would like to make things a little more....personal. Once a response is received, we will appoint an ambassador from Lady Deathstrike.

Sincerely,

Mira Conor
President
The Torture Chamber of Lady Deathstrike

[OOC] Short and lame, but it will have to do for now.

A lack of oversight in the Frowning Street mailroom had resulted in a diplomatic letter addressed to Manuelo Fernanda actually being delivered to Manuelo Fernanda, even though any low-level punk in State or the Executive Office knew that meant nothing but trouble. The missive accompanied the president's morning paper that day -- well, the funnies and the sports page, at any rate; Fernanda had a standing order to shred the rest of the paper and feed to his pit bulls. Sure, his foreign policy caused misery and mayhem the world over, but he sure as heck didn't want to read about it.

Casandra awoke that morning to find her fuck-buddy sitting up in bed, the comics draped over his naked midsection, and holding up an official-looking document. Was Manuelo actually ... reading something?

Fernanda scoffed at the letter.

Cas stirred in her "embassy" to prop her head up to face him, modestly raising the sheet to her chin to cover her considerable assets. "Something wrong?" she asked.

"That fucknut Alex set up another embassy without telling me, and now some other nation wants a piece of the Destructor. ... Say Cas, you know anything about these 'Lady Deathstrike' peeps?"

Unfortunately Ms. Chase had been assigned to Paradise City for the entire time that Karmicaria had been located in that other region. "Not much," she sighed.

"This Mira Conor; she hot?" quizzed the Destructor.

"Hot enough," she scoffed.

"Well, if their ambassador is half as nice, they got themselves a deal!" said the president, as he reached for a Sharpie on the nightstand and placed the letter against his thigh to scrawl his reply on the reverse side:

http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a118/teddygrahams113/deathstrike.jpg

Dutifully the president folded the letter back up and returned it to its envelope, writing "RETURN TO SENDER" across its face and tossing it back on the nightstand. Eventually some aid, or servant, or maid, cleaning lady, somebody would see it and make sure to forward it to the proper mail bin.

"Er, considering where that letter's been, aren't you at least going to have it sanitized before sending it to another country?" Cas asked with disgust.

"Fuck it. What them Deathstrike bitches don't know won't hurt them!" Fernanda replied with the usual amount of cockiness. "You booked this morning?"

Cas glanced at the alarm clock. "I have an important phone call with President Bathory in about ten minutes," she said regrettably.

"Ten minutes is all I need, baby!" Fernanda growled as he pushed the newspaper out of the way and rolled over, playfully grabbing her.

Mira sat at her desk waiting rather impatiently for a response from the Federal Republic. She was constantly looking out her window, checking her email and checking for messages. She never really was that patient. Finally, there was a knock on the door. The president all but jumped out of her seat to answer.

"This has been returned from the Federal Republic, ma'am."

"Wait, what? The bastard returned it? He didn't even bother to respond? Or, did we get the address wrong?"

"I'm not sure, ma'am. Shall I send for Kahlan anyway?"

"Yeah, she's already in the building somewhere. Tell her to put down the bow and get her ass to my office." Mira returned to her desk and stared at the letter. "Why would they just send it back?" she then noticed that there seemed to be some dark writing. She opened the envelope. Sure enough, there was a something scrawled on the back of the letter she had written. She read it and smiled. "Quite a way with words, I see." There was a second knock at the door. "Come in!" she yelled. "Ah Kahlan dear. Please, come in and have a seat."

"What is it you want, Ms. Conor?"

"I have a job for you, dear. You have been assigned as the Ambassador to The Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny. You will pack your bags, take a team of three or four others and make your way there tonight. I will call Mr. Fernanda personally to let him know that you're on your way. Oh and Kahlan, please try to leave the bow and arrows here. Use a real weapon, please." Kahlan glared at the president. She stood and began to walk out of the room.

"Is there anything else, ma'am?"

"No, that will be all. Enjoy your time in OMGTTK!" as soon as Kahlan was gone, Mira picked up the phone and dialed directory assistance to get the number for president Fernanda. After an hour or so, she finally found it and called. "Heh. Answering machine." she sighed. "Good day, President Fernanda. This is Mira Conor for Lady Deathstrike. I am calling to tell you that our ambassador to your nation is on her way. I have faxed a picture (http://i54.photobucket.com/albums/g93/JamieNesci/elves22.jpg) of her over along with her profile. Have a good day." she hung up. "I wonder if he'll be satisfied with Kahlan."

"Mr. President! ... Mr. President!" Debbie could hardly hear anything on the line over the crackling of Fernanda's cell.

A faint voice answered: "Yeah, I'm here, Debbie. What's cracking?" Rap music and loud voices roared in the background.

"Where the hell did you go?"

"Clubbing, then a strip-joint. I'm at some dude's house right now, actually."

"Does the Secret Service know you're out partying?" she demanded.

"No, and don't you tell them either! Them uptight officers are a total buzzkill."

"Considering that your double was just shot in Karmicaria, maybe it would be prudent to inform the Secret Service of your whereabouts?"

"No!" Fernanda shouted. "You tell them where I'm at, and I'll tell your husband you're sleeping around!"

"I'm divorced, Mr. President--"

"Yeah, like that's some excuse ..."

"That's all very amusing, sir, but listen: the president of Lady Deathstrike called and left a message for you on the office line."

"She called the office? Why didn't she just hit my cell? We could go party!"

"I don't think she has your cell number, sir, and besides, unlike you, she probably has a shred of responsibility about her. Anyway, she says she's sending an ambassador ..."

"Really?" the Destructor suddenly sounded very interested. "How is she, scale of 1 to 10?"

"Uhhh, I don't think elf-women are your thing, Mr. President ..." Debbie replied, gazing at the photo that had come out of the FAX machine.

"Damn."

"All the same, you really need to come back and return her call. It's only polite. I didn't even know world leaders played phone-tag!"

"Nah, I can't leave now! This joint's barely stared jumpin'!"

"You should at least come back soon so you can name a return envoy," Debbie sighed. "I mean, you are the president."

"Nah, won't be doin' that ... hey! I know! Why don't you do it?"

"I'm not qualified to appoint an ambassador, sir. Maybe I should call Tehrani--?"

"No, not that retard! He'll just muck up the whole process with politics and corporate favors and all that bullshit. Look, there's a short list on my desk. Just pick the one who still hasn't paid off most of his debt to society. Then I'll sign off on it later."

"Might as well just let me sign it," Debbie said sardonically. "I sign your name better than you do."

"Awesome; thanks Deb."

"When can we expect to be graced with your presence, sir?"

"Er, what time is it now?"

"Close to midnight, Mr. President."

"Great! See you Tuesday!" <click>

Debbie sighed again and strolled into the president's office. Sure enough, a thick file awaited her. She pondered the female voice she'd heard on the voicemail as she picked up the folder and started leafing though the profiles. A young woman, kind of girly, still single, decidedly less of a **** than the late Karmcarian queen, liked to relax and have fun, probably. Maybe the Federal Republic could curry favor with this new nation by sending Her Excellency a party-mate ...

She smiled as she came across the perfect candidate.

... And maybe a little Island lovin' to go with it?

http://h1.ripway.com/reclaim/kenny-try2.gif
Executive Office of the President
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: Mira Conor, President of Lady Deathstrike
Subject: Embassy exchange

I am pleased to inform you that my office has approved your embassy and your designated ambassador, and will reciprocate by naming an envoy to serve in Lady Deathstrike: Fritz Conway, a young man who has spent most of his life moving back and forth from his native Tiki Taki to OMGTKK's Chocolate Salty Islands. His exposure from an early age to different cultures we feel deems him fit for the field of international diplomacy.

[This arrangement will also save both him and us a few headaches, as Mr. Conway's appointment is actually a "community service" assignment, to work off several arrests for vehicular theft, you know, for stealing a Lexus and an Accord. And a BMW. And a Mercedes. And an RV. And a yacht. And the Queen Mary. (Also, for constantly breaking into stranger's homes to crash for the night, oftentimes accompanied by a cute little thing in a cute little skirt who's just visiting the island with her dad, and always wonders where he gets all those flashy new cars. "Connections, baby! This is my island!") This way, Mr. Conway gets to redeem himself in the eyes of the law, and we get to ship him off to some other country, and out of our hair. That's sort of how this "embassy exchange" thing works.]

http://us.movies1.yimg.com/movies.yahoo.com/images/hv/photo/movie_pix/yari_film/haven/_group_photos/agnes_bruckner3.jpg
Mr. Conway, with some random blonde chick
(She doesn't come with our embassy, unless you're into that sort of thing.)

As a native Islander, we hope Mr. Conway will feel right at home in your little "Paradise (www.nationstates.net/region=antarctic_paradise)." He speaks English fluently, although his Islander accent is indecipherable. But he is, thankfully, quite fluent in the international language of "l'amour." Enjoy!Sincerely,
Manuelo Fernanda
"The Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico"
President of the Federal Republic

"Put an embassy in Kenny!" Commodore Daniel Heusen said with a start.

"Wha- Why?" Wazir Dr. Jules Hodz said, surprised.

"Just do it." Heusen replied

"But... who'll be the ambassador?"

"Your vice UN ambassador."

"Right. Whatever."

* * * * * * *

http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y87/fahooglewitz1077/AkimonadSeal_Flat.png
OFFICIAL AKIMONAD COMMUNIQUÉ

To: OMGTKK Diplomatic Corps
From: The Office of Wazir Dr. Jules Hodz

Sirs,
We wish to open diplomatic relations with your fanatical nation. We have appointed Stanislaw Blix (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/37/Hans_Blix_in_Vienna_2002.jpg) to serve as ambassdor. We will gladly accept an ambassador in exchange. We must warn you, however: Mr. Blix is somewhat conservative and may have difficulty adjusting to the liberal sophistication (that is, relaxed attitudes towards modesty and cursing). If he gets angry, be patient and don't give him beer.

Respectfully,
Dr. Jules Hodz
Wazir of Akimonad
"Still the original doctor in the UN!"

P.S.: We sincerely apologize for the shooting of Manuelo Fernanda's bodyguard. If it pleases you, the shooter has been sent to the Halls of the UN in order to become a gnome but was defenestrated by the other, less patient gnomes who could put up with his bickering.

[OOC: Seeing as my request has been accepted...]

Stanislaw Blix stepped off the plane.

"Where the hell am I?" he said to the attendant.

"Welcome to Paradise City, sir." the attendant replied.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Um, no..."

Blix looked at the huge sign outside the bounds of the airport.

WELCOME TO PARADISE CITY, K.M.D., OMGTKK

"Feck. They'd better have good beer." Blix said to himself. "Right. Put the plane in a hangar." He instructed the pilot.

"Which? We haven't one assigned."

"Any one. Just get it of the fecking tarmac."

Blix walked to his Aston Martin DBS that sat waiting for him. He got in and turned the key. As he was, a man broke the window of the car and demanded his wallet.

"I just got in from Akimonad. My wallet's with my luggage." he told the would-be mugger.

"Where am I supposed to get cash for beer, then?" the man replied.

"Look over in all that luggage over there. Yes, in that building."

The building had a nameplate: "Baggage Heaven. Where your luggage went after you got back from that 1998 trip to Tiki Taki."

While the man ran off to Baggage Heaven, Blix pulled out his mobile phone and called for an escort. He'd have no more incursions on his journey to wherever the hell he was going.

Someone's going to pay for this, he thought.

At least the silly staffers in the State Department thought it was funny as hell: having been instructed to "send an official notice to the President for Life," they had taken it to mean "taunt her with magical burning letters (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12304577&postcount=5456) appearing mid-air." The old girl may even get a kick out of it, they told themselves, and besides, God knows how the Ardchoilleans hated to waste paper (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11524050&postcount=165). They, the State Dept. staffers, had elected at the last moment to nix unnecessarily dramatic language to the effect of: "Know ye by these presents that Sammy Faisano, convicted for his role in propagating base UN fluffiness (www.nationstates.net/page=UN_past_resolutions/start=218), is hereby sentenced to serve as ambassador," for, even though it obviously translated better into Artichokevillian, it made it sound like the poor boy marching to his doom. He was, to be sure, but there was no point in damaging relations by suggesting the assignment was a punishment. They weren't even sure they had cast the charm correctly: the individual characters flashing before Ms. Reilly's eyes may have been in the wrong order, backward, rotating, twirling, whatever -- the point was, they weren't actually on site to verify that the message had transferred correctly. Yet, there the letters were, plain as day, flaming before Dicey's eyes as she sat behind the counter at the Strangers' Bar, innocently minding her own business:Attn: Dicey Reilly, President for Life of Ardchoille

The Federal Republic pleased to announce that Mr. Samuel Faisano (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Sammy_Faisano), (soon to be former) ambassador to the United Nations, will replace Mrs. June Radey as ambassador to Ardchoille, and intends to resign his current post as soon as the vote on the repeal of SPCC Regulation Act has been certified. Mr. Faisano will be assisted by "Special Assistants to the Ambassador" Ace and Rico, UN-mission "employees" whose purposefulness and resourcefulness have increased exponentially (and inextricably) of late. Mr. Faisano will be available to present his credentials to President Reilly in the Strangers' Bar at her leisure. Although the ambassador intends to spend a good amount of his time at UN Headquarters, and specifically the Strangers' Bar, he will be deputized by Paradoasm Banofshon (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11763676&postcount=179) (second item), an invaluable toady diplomat we were recently able to rescue from a more disagreeable assignment abroad. Mr. Banofshon will remain in Ardrigh most of the time, and will execute most matters involving the Department for Situations Like This as the occasion arises.

The Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico sends his kindest regards.

"Bast! Quick! Those bloody idiots have bloody gone and declared bloody war!"

"What, the Oldest Coven?" Bast inquired, casting a tolerant eye at the letters of fire above his president's head. "It must be a mistake, Dicey, Ardchoille never declares war. Somebody must have just pushed the wrong button."

"Not those bloody idiots, these bloody idiots!" Dicey said impatiently. "Where's that dodgy little bugger Faisano? Just wait, Sammy-boy, till I ...!"

The remainder of the threat was muffled, Bast having adopted his usual tactic in times of extreme Diceyness: very respectfully sitting on her. Calmly he read the message from the Kennyites, caused a recycled-paper copy to appear and shut off the annoying letter display.

"There's not a warlike word in the whole thing," he said reproachfully, waving the copy under Dicey's nose. "Whatever you're on, Dicey, give it up! This is just a diplomatic exchange. You already knew they'd picked Sammy to replace old Mrs Radey, and there wasn't a peep out of you. So what's got your knickers in a knot now?"

"It's not what they said, it's the way that they said it!" said Dicey, exasperated. "Can't you see? Since when did the Kennyites use magic? You know what they're doing, Bast? They're taunting us!"

"Yeah, well, they taunt everybody. If you're gonna rise to the bait every time, you're as dim as th-- ..." Realising that this line of argument might prove unproductive, Bast abandoned it for another. "I mean, magic's not our exclusive right, is it? If other nations want to make the move into more sophisticated technology, surely we should welcome them. Maybe we could trade. I mean, we're so many years ahead of them in practical applications, surely we could start sending out feelers ... Don't be a problem, Dicey, be a solution."

"I'll solution you!" snapped the irate President childishly. Then, gathering her shredded dignity, "You're supposed to be in charge of Intelligence, how could you let them get to this stage without us finding out? Next thing you know it'll be Weapons of Magical Destruction, and in the hands of a Rouge State like that lot anything could happen! We need protection ... alliances ... counterspells ..."

"We've already got the Godmoded Magical Everything-Resistant Dome," soothed Bast. "And if our diplomatic corps can't subvert their politics and frustrate their knavish tricks, we need a new diplomatic corps, that's all. Speaking of which, that new guy Bill Kelly ..."

"Let's stick to the subject!"

"I am sticking to the subject. That new guy Bill Kelly -- the ArdchoilleaNS guy -- says there are machines around now that can do stuff that's almost imperceptible from real magic. So there's every chance those letters of fire were machine-generated."

Pause. "Really?"

"Really!"

"So you don't think we should do anything?"

"I don't think we should do anything. Except send them a nice, polite letter of acknowledgement, officially welcome young Sammy, let McGonnagle in the Department know what he's in for, and do our best to keep young, impressionable diplomats of either sex away from this Paradoasm Banofshon guy until we know a bit more about him."

Dicey studied the photograph critically.

"You reckon he's hot? I dunno, Bast, I don't thi--"

"Trust me, Dicey, he's a Tomcat. Takes one to know one," boasted Bast.
He exited speedily, leaving Dicey to realise, several glasses later, that she hadn't asked whether he was going to follow up on the Kennyites having magic. But surely it wasn't likely, given their President's known aversion ...

Their President! "Kindest regards"! If that wasn't the most deliberately insulting thing she'd ever heard ... !

Nursing her outrage (and the next bottle), Dicey waited moltenly for the next appearance of the unsuspecting Sammy Faisano.

Reprinted from the Polar Picayune (http://z11.invisionfree.com/Antarctic_Oasis/index.php?showtopic=602):

PARADISE CITY --- Kennyites reacted Tuesday to the shocking news that the most positively brilliant UN team ever seen in the history of NS diplomacy -- which has worked tirelessly this past year to draft and bring multiple proposals to quorum, only to have them all slaughtered in the most brutal and spectacular fashion on the UN floor -- would be splitting up, with no prospects for a reunion tour, or even a "Greatest Hits" album.

Many upon hearing the news on TV shrugged and went back to reading the funnies, some got up to raid the fridge, others shifted in their comfy chairs to let out bursts of flatulence, and still others clicked the remote, wondering what else was on.

"Eh," sighed Thorograd resident Theodora Reisenblatt, 79, who was walking home after a busy day of birthday shopping, and kept complaining that she'd miss the "Wheel" if the reporter didn't wrap it up already. "That Faisano was a cute kid, but Jessie and that Chinese military-stripper bitch were pretty whorish. It was fun to read about their Strangers' Bar exploits in the tabloids, though. It must annoy the barkeep to no end having to sanitize the joint from top to bottom every time President Fernanda visits. Is he sacked too?"

The reporter assured her he was not.

"Damn," Reisenblatt growled as she pushed the walk button on a street corner.

Sammy Faisano, however, did resign as ambassador to the United Nations this week, announcing his decision to take up another diplomatic post abroad. State Department officials were quick to dispel reports that he had gone insane (which is par for the course, really, for Kennyite diplomats).

"I assure you Mr. Faisano is not crazy," laughed Secretary of State Alex Tehrani nervously at a Tuesday news conference.

"Uhh, we never said he was," a reporter replied strangely.

"Oh, good," Tehrani said. "Because he's definitely not nuts; he just a needs a little rest before he takes up his new assignment, then he'll be good as new. ... He's one of the few sane diplomats we have, actually, and we'd like to-- er, forget I said that last part. Just insert another lame joke about me and gay porn like nothing happened."

Tehrani may have spoken too soon, for while Faisano may not require psychiatric care now, he may need it in the near future: his new assignment is as ambassador to Ardchoille.

Also out: Shirley Jackson, the assistant associate deputy whatever ambassador, who has consented to fill the post of ambassador to The Eternal Kawaii; Ace and Rico, "special assistants to the ambassador," who will accompany Faisano to his consular office in the Strangers' Bar; and Jessie McArthur, who has been designated as "cultural attache" to some nation no one cares about.

The only staffers remaining behind are George Brown -- who though perennially useless, benefits from the fact that there isn't anywhere else for him to go -- and Cdr. Jenny Chiang, for whom Fernanda has taken advantage of the congressional summer recess to appoint her acting ambassador to the United Nations, sans Senate approval.

With Chiang at the helm, Kennyite dealings at the UN are expected to remain staunchly sovereigntist, tough on international security matters, resoundingly anti-fluffy, and profane as ever.

While little has been disclosed as to why such a dramatic shift has occurred, some analysts have surmised that the State Department is trying to distract the public from a rumor of the UN office's suspected involvement in Accessible Family Planning (http://www.nationstates.net/page=UN_past_resolutions/start=218), which recently passed the General Assembly. (But it couldn't really have been a Kennyite proposal when you think about it: it passed, so such rumors are dismissed as soon as they are floated.)

Besides, none of the departing staffers will actually be leaving UN Headquarters: Faisano, Ace and Rico, as previously mentioned, will be moving to the Strangers' Bar; Jackson's office, due to the fact that Kawaiians have no sovereign territory any more, will be located in the ladies room on the eighth floor, where the Kennyites' and Kawaiians' respective office suites are located; and McArthur has barely noticed a change at all, as she has been too busy holding teen heartthrob Zac Efron against his will in one of the UN sub-floors.

So what the "liberal media" have been describing as a "shake-up" "is really more a game of musical desks," claimed Ambassador at Large Antoin Venn, and "there really is no cause to devote an entire news article to it."

Meanwhile, the search for a new permanent ambassador continues, and as congressional elections are just around the corner, with both houses expected to fall under control of the opposition party, a Fernanda official claimed the final nominee will likely be "the dude who can piss off uptight Senate Liberals the most."

"Second Minister?"

"Ah, yes your excellency."

"The updates."

"Right, right. His Holiness Ambassador Shandreth has approved a delegation from Omigdotheykilledkenny, and has forwarded the relevant material to our offices. The Kennyites have approved an embassy, and as Shandreth is plenipotens, we now have official relations with the Federal Republic."

Minister Dirh hated these weekly status updates with the Holy Council. Fifty old men made him uneasy; he was glad they weren't always there. Too busy doing whatever the hell it is that old men do.

Councillor Herad cleared his throat.

"Very well then. We shall now select an ambassador."

"your excellencies, if you please. I have a recommendation."

Murmurs from the crowd. Herad raised an eyebrow.

"I'm rather surprised, Second Minister. That fuckup vohu-manar is never this prepared."

"Yes sir. Er, no sir... anyway, I recommend Archivist Mada-san-Thram, of the Sargedain Secondary Western Archive."

"Archivist Thram? The man's a drunk, a party-goer, and a general embarassment to the virtues of Aatem Nal!"

Dirh smiled. "Yes, your excellencies. But he's punctual and good with reports, and besides- He'll fit right in, and the Grand Librarian won't have to worry about him anymore! And if needs be, he can head up a Repository in Paradise City."

The old men murmured in assent.

"Very well. All in favor? All opposed? Very good, we have approved the assignment of Archivist Mada-san-Thram to the position of Ambassador to the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny. Formal induction will be done in absentia by the full Bel Monday morning. Before we move on, the Second Minister has something else to say?"

Dirh cleared his throat. "Not so much say, your excellencies, as report. You have now a copy of a communique sent out to the Kennyites from my own office. His Holiness the Minister drew it up himself. I wished only to bring it to your attention."

brief silence, as the men read, then angered murmuring.

Herad raised a hand for silence. "Thank you, Second Minister. I am sure that Minister vohu-manar will also appreciate your efforts."

Dirh bowed sheepishly. "I only serve Snefaldia, your excellency."

"Yes, I know. You are dismissed."

Naèräth, capital of the Eternal Republic of Xirnium
Quarterly General Meeting of the Public Diplomacy Financial Oversight Group, in the Palace of Faëdaryávë

Delicate spring flowers perfumed a room so bursting full of sophistication and high taste that it overwhelmed to the point of suffocation. In its centre stood a splendid large table, completely overlaid with silver hammered into gorgeous relief from the reverse side. Upon this table were placed gilt candelabra and around it were positioned elegant, high-backed seigneurial chairs veneered in foreign woods and inlaid with ivory and silver. In these chairs there sat politicians and bureaucrats all faced with a most singular problem, the reduction of government spending in their department.

‘Let’s move along to the next item on our agenda,’ announced the Countess of House Numêsalquó, Lady Eléanor Sabëlinà, as she shuffled through a few official-looking papers on which she had absentmindedly scribbled little fleurs-de-lis. ‘Now where were we? Ah yes, the strange case of the embassy to the Federal Republic,’ she read, squinting slightly. ‘Mayhap this time we might be able to eliminate some waste, seventh time’s the charm, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘Quite so, Minister,’ replied the Permanent Under-Secretary of State, Vórtimer Naúderthön, with a falsely enthusiastic grin.

The Countess frowned at her underlying. ‘So who are these Kennyites again?’

‘I am given to understand, Minister, that they are the proudly armed and uneducated plebeian masses of a presidential republic located somewhere in the Antarctic circle,’ Vórtimer explained.

‘I’m afraid I don’t recall the place,’ Eléanor apologised.

‘They’re currently holding congressional elections...?’

‘Still no good,’ complained the Countess with a shake of her head.

‘Their President is a professional boxer called Manuelo Fernanda…?’

‘Oh, right! The pig!’ exclaimed Eléanor.

‘Splendid, Minister,’ smiled Vórtimer. ‘I see that your memory has returned to you.’

‘Never mind that, tell me about this embassy,’ ordered the Countess.

‘Of course, Minister,’ simpered the permanent secretary. ‘Our permanent mission to the Federal Republic currently employs one hundred and thirty-three administrative staff across nine different sections, including but not limited to the political and defence sections, press and public affairs department, trade and investment office, management section, and ambassador’s private office. The other seventy-two employees are all support staff.’

‘I see,’ Eléanor replied. ‘Well that is a rather considerable number, don’t you think? And who is our ambassador?’

‘Pardon, Minister?’ asked the permanent secretary.

‘Our ambassador to the Federal Republic, Vórtimer,’ repeated Eléanor irritably. ‘Who is our ambassador?’

‘Oh, right. I’m afraid there isn’t one, Minister.’

‘Well then who is our chargé d’affaires?’ asked the Countess whilst trying to keep her impatience in check.

‘I’m sorry, Minister, you misunderstand me,’ Vórtimer explained delicately. ‘Xirnium does not currently have a diplomatic representative to the Federal Republic.’

‘What do you mean, we don’t have a diplomatic representative?’ demanded the Countess.

‘Well you see, Minister...’ began the permanent secretary with a dramatic sigh, ‘Paradise City is somewhat a, um... well a dangerous and rather alarming place, quite frankly. To be entirely honest with you, we’ve yet to find anyone actually willing to volunteer for the assignment.’

‘So all of the administrative and support staff... they’re just idling time away in Paradise City on their own?’ asked Eléanor, her eyes narrowing.

‘Oh... no, Minister!’

‘Ah, good,’ smiled the Countess. ‘I’m most relieved.’

‘Quite rightly so, Minister,’ agreed Vórtimer. ‘In fact they’re idling their time away right here.’

‘Pardon?’ managed Eléanor, choking on her mixture of absinthe and laudanum.

‘Well you see, Minister, it’s much the same problem that we’ve encountered with respect to the search for an appropriate ambassador,’ the permanent secretary explained. ‘We couldn’t convince the embassy staff to go to Paradise City either. Of course, since we haven’t yet found an ambassador to accompany them anyway, we’ve allowed them to stay here for the moment.’

‘Are you serious, Vórtimer?’

‘Quite serious, Minister,’ replied the permanent secretary, smiling happily. The Countess was reminded of a madman.

‘Do you mean to tell me,’ asked Eléanor with a murderous gleam in her eye, ‘that we are paying for over two hundred embassy staff who aren’t actually doing any work at all?’

‘Certainly not, Minister!’ replied Vórtimer. ‘They are doing lots and lots of work. In fact from all the internal assessment reports I’m given to understand that they are model employees, most industrious administrators indeed.’

‘But we don’t have an embassy in Paradise City!’ screamed the Countess, causing everyone but the still stupidly smiling permanent secretary to flinch.

‘Quite observant, Minister,’ Vórtimer agreed, ‘but the essential administrative work of the embassy continues nonetheless. Filing weekly stationary acquisition requests... reporting clerical staffing shortages... advising upper management of secretarial resource needs...’

‘Stop, Vórtimer. Stop at once,’ warned the Countess.

‘Minister?’

‘I’ve heard quite enough, Vórtimer,’ Eléanor huffed. ‘Find an ambassador. Immediately! This simply cannot continue, I’ve never seen such appalling bureaucratic waste. Good heavens, what if the press should hear of this? It’ll be a scandal. And send the bloody embassy to Paradise City! That’s what they’re being paid for.’

‘Yes, Minister,’ nodded the permanent secretary. ‘If I might make a tiny recommendation...’

‘Would it be too much to insist that it be rational?’ frowned the Countess.

‘Not at all, Minister,’ grinned Vórtimer. ‘I believe that a splendid candidate for the position of ambassador would be the Baroness of House Sauvâtron.’

‘You mean the lunatic?’ asked Eléanor.

‘I believe that “stark raving bonkers” is the correct medical term, Minister... anyway, I assure you that she’s perfectly sane.’

‘We are speaking of the individual who insists on being addressed as “My Fair Lady” by those around her, aren’t we?’ Eléanor clarified.

‘The very same, Minister,’ nodded the permanent secretary.

‘They say that she spent millions on a five-year botanical expedition to the New World in search of natural flowers that could be mistaken for fake plastic ones,’ frowned the Countess.

‘My Fair Lady has always been a great patron of the sciences...’ Vórtimer observed.

‘They also say that she keeps elaborate mechanical fishes as pets and feeds them every afternoon at five o’clock,’ Eléanor continued. ‘She calls the red one blinky.’

‘Everyone needs a pastime…’

‘And didn’t she glaze the shell of a tortoise in gold and encrust it with rubies and sapphires? And then threw the creature into a lake? Despite the fact that, even if it had been a turtle and not a tortoise, surely it would not have been able to swim with all those jewels?’

‘Very creative, is My Fair Lady... such artistic flair...’

‘Anyway, I heard the poor thing cast herself off the edge of a cliff. Last summer, after her third husband died of arsenic poisoning,’ the Countess mused. ‘So very tragic and untimely, nobody expects arsenic the third time...’ she added as an afterthought.

‘Nothing more than vicious rumours, I can assure you, Minister,’ Vórtimer smiled. ‘In fact, she decided against it in the end. The cliff just wasn’t Romantically picturesque enough, she was actually after great crashing waves and dreary grey rocks. As I understand it, the headland where her ancestral seat is located is actually rather pleasant in the summer.’

‘But you agree that she is totally demented and entirely unsuited for the task? She puts perfume in her tea!’

‘I never denied it, Minister, but who else would go?’ asked Vórtimer.

‘On second thoughts, My Fair Lady will do just perfectly.’

There was an air of foreboding in the reception area of the Kennyites' UN office suite that day, as Secretary of State Alex Tehrani and Acting Ambassador to the United Nations Cdr. Jenny Chiang stood side by side, arms crossed, glaring ominously at the main door in preparation for their quarry's arrival; they'd even ordered the frat-boy receptionist Ryan to stop downloading Internet porn and play an illegally acquired torrent of "Mars, Bringer of War" to set the tone. However, the one whom Chiang and Tehrani hoped would get the message had a terrible way of destroying the mood, no matter how carefully plotted.

"Whooo! Time to get freaky!" Jessie shouted as she entered the office to see Cdr. Chiang and Sec. Tehrani expectantly watching for her.

"Who's ready to party?" the the bouncing blonde continued, ignoring her superiors' withering gazes. "Cdr. Chiang, I know you're a party girl! C'mon! Put some whipped cream on my tits! Alex can lick it off!"

Tehrani and Chiang rolled their eyes, even as Ryan hooted excitedly and volunteered to do the licking himself. "Deputy Ambassador McArthur," Cdr. Chiang intoned dangerously, hoping a sudden revert to formality might give her a hint. "I thought I made myself quite clear in the Strangers' Bar last night? This is not a party; this is a sacking. You are supposed to be clearing out your desk." And with that she thrust a cardboard box into Jessie's hands.

"Desk?!" Jessie laughed ridiculously. "Sammy never gave me no desk! He just let me use your stripper pole at the bar! ... By the way, commander, you might want to sanitize that pole before you use it next ... Saul and I ran into each other a little earlier, and things got a little ... well ..."

"Miss McArthur," Chiang said sternly. "Please gather your personal effects and return to Paradise City at once! You will be receiving your next assignment shortly."

"Hope it's gonna be a party nation I'm going to!" Jessie said hopefully as she disappeared into the hallway in search of her scattered unmentionables.

"Did someone say party?!" demanded a male voice, and Chiang and Tehrani turned to find a young Latino gentleman in a muscle shirt and gym shorts, covered in sweat and holding a basketball to his waist. He wiped his mouth on a towel draped over his shoulder. "Well, let's get it started already; I'm ready for a little after-workout ... workout!"

"Mr. President," Chiang said nervously, "we weren't expecting you till later!"

"And Cdr. Chiang!" the president growled approvingly, his eyes drifting well below the invisible fail-safe line on the commander's chin. "You're lookin' finer every fuckin' day!"

"And I tell you 'every fuckin' day,' sexual harassment is against the law," lectured Chiang.

The president's face darkened. "And I tell you every fuckin' day, it's pretty damn stupid for you to give lectures on sexual harassment ... you're a stripper for God's sake!"

He turned away with a scoff. "Who's the blondie who just left as I came in?" he asked Tehrani. "She looks familiar."

"Jessie McArthur, sir," Tehrani answered. "Our former deputy ambassador. She's being ... uhh ... reassigned today."

"Deputy ambassador?! I could have sworn I saw her elsewhere ..."

"Dude, Playboy!" Ryan shouted, pulling out a years-old issue from a drawer and slapping it on the desktop:

http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a118/teddygrahams113/clip_image008-1.jpg

"She's a legend!"

"Oh, yeah," Fernanda said, picking up the magazine, "and she was on MTV too!"

"The host of 'Who Wants to Get Laid?'" Chiang said scathingly. "And soon she'll be featured on the all-new hit show, 'Who Wants to Be Exiled?'"

"She was our deputy ambassador?" Fernanda said through a fair amount of drool, having found the issue's centerfold.

The deputy ambassador reappeared in the reception area, a number of brightly colored undergarments (and other things) draped over the sides of her box. "Is it gonna be warm where I'm going?" she wondered. "'Cause I've been dying to wear ... well, nothing ..."

Fernanda's eyes lighted as he snapped his fingers in recognition. "I remember you!" he said. "We co-hosted that benefit together a couple years back! The one for some depressing illness? You were the one ..."

"... performing oral sex on the microphone," McArthur answered, adding suggestively: "I was hoping to track you down afterward so I could give you a repeat performance in your hotel room, if you know what I mean." She giggled at the Commander in Chief as she suddenly stood up straighter, as though the president had failed to notice that she had a pair of perfectly rounded, if delightfully fake-looking, breasts.

The president stood back, not taking his eyes off her. "Alex, this is a fine, upstanding citizen you got working for you!" he declared. "Ambassador material, if I'm not mistaken!"

"But Mr. President!" Chiang protested. "The Department of State has already reassigned her to the attache corps. A 'cultural attache' to some nation out of the way ..."

"Well, I think she'd make a great ambassador!" Fernanda stated.

"Mr. President," Chiang said, "I'm afraid the Department of State will never ..."

"Department of State nothing!" Fernanda answered her furiously. "The Constitution says I get to name ambassadors!--"

Chiang elbowed Tehrani suddenly. "I told you not to let him read that stupid thing!" she snapped.

"Bite me, Commander," Tehrani replied quietly.

"--And I'm gonna be naming this lovely young woman to be our ambassador to ... what's a good nation to be ambassador to, Alex?"

"Xirnium just sued for an embassy exchange, sir," Tehrani said.

"Xirnium! Perfect. A warm, tropical nation, I take it? Perfect place to take all those ... bikinis and whatnot in that box?"

"No, sir, actually, it's a more northerly country, decidedly colder."

"Hmph. Well, at least her nipples will get cold too."

I'd like to have an embassy and you can too! (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=531485) Embassies for everyone! ;)

Office of the Ambassador to the United Nations
Confederated Hells of Rubina



To: Deputy Ambassador Chiang
From: Ambassador Talone

Esteemed Ambassador Chiang:

I have been instructed by my government to provide you with the enclosed documents requesting formal diplomatic relations with the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny. It is with pleasure that I do so and hope that a long-lasting relationship can be forged between our nations, different though they may be.

With respect,

Leetha Talone
Ambassador to the UN

Office of External Affairs
Confederated Hells of Rubina



Alex Tehrani,
Secretary of State
The Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny

Secretary Tehrani:

It is the desire of the Central Governing Committee to establish full diplomatic relations with the Federal Republic. As has been discussed in lower echelon meetings, the Department of External Affairs is prepared to recognize the Federal Republic and its designated ambassador to Rubina.

Should this meet with final approval of your government, our ambassador to Omigodtheykilledkenny, Deepak Schönnig will arrive shortly thereafter in Paradise City. No special conditions are required for Mr. Schönnig. Arrangements have already been made privately for accommodations for an embassy in Paradise City's diplomatic district. Schönnig will be accompanied by a staff of one, the Half & Half known as Angel Eyes.

Sincerely,

Jim Jones,
First Secretary of External Affairs
Rubina

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No-o-o-o!" wailed Deepak Schönnig. "Why me?" The thin, pimply-faced youth ran his fingers through his already thinning pink hair.

First holding his hand eye-level and then down at his knees, First Secretary of External Affairs Jim Jones answered, "Here's the totem pole .. and here's you. Besides, if you're ever going to have a chance to dislodge Leetha from her UN post, you're going to have to get some experience with the sons-of-...erm... the esteemed Kennyites.

You'll be officially negotiating trade agreements and cultural exchanges. Unofficially, you'll be growing up, getting some experience outside of the world of the collectives, and generally learning how to be a human being. We're sending Angel Eyes with you.

"But I don't ne-e-e-ed a chaperone."

Jones snorted. "Angel Eyes is hardly a chaperone, you pussy. You may find Kennyite company lacking in, shall we say, certain ways. Or you may not. Either way, Angel Eyes is going. And before you go, get rid of that pink hair. You look like a freakin' Twinkie with strawberry creme gushing out one end."

Resignation written all over his face, Deepak left Jones' office to sulk, smoke a really large bong full, and pack. "It's going to be freakin' cold I bet."

To the seemingly empty office, Jim Jones sighed, "That'll at least get the kid out from under my feet."

A rather bemused George Brown stormed into Sammy's office, brandishing a manila envelope.

"What's this?" he demanded of Cdr. Chiang, seated behind Sammy's desk. "Letters of Credence? You guys are sending me off?! I thought it was pretty much agreed I'd remain here at the mission's offices?"

"It was," Chiang said calmly. "But the State Department has since then decided to scale back mission personnel to just three main officials, and assorted aids and security detail. Unfortunately, under the new plan, we will not need a communications director. Though we do appreciate the work you've done telespamming delegates to approve our proposals, the State Department has recommended that you be reassigned to Rubina."

"Rubina?! You've gotta be joking! Those fluffy bastards? Surely Congress would never approve formal diplomatic relations--"

Chiang held up a single document. "I have the president's signature right here, George. You may not have realized this during one of your drunken stupors at the bar, but the makeup of Congress will be dramatically different (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=13030598#post13030598) come winter, and the lame-duck Conservatives don't want to rock the boat too much. The majority was veto-proof, in both houses."

"'Don't want to rock the boat'?! What the hell are you talking about? What about that 3 a.m. vote to railroad Susa through as ambassador?"

Chiang smiled devilishly. "Well, we are allowed one or two duplicitous acts. At any rate, it would be most advantageous to establish diplomatic relations in Rubina, especially since I'll be needing an extra pair of eyes on the ground while I conduct my investigation (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12927232&postcount=6405)."

"This is that thing about--?"

"Whoever it was on Rubina's Central Committee who slept with somebody in our Corporate Conglomerate to buy our abstention on the UN Labor Relations Act. I need you to report any information you can find on this directly to me, and I'll follow up with secret interviews."

"Secret interviews?" Brown repeated skeptically. "How do you expect to get any Rubinan official to talk, especially to a foreigner?"

"I have my ways," Chiang said wryly as she cracked her knuckles.

"This deal is probably all kinds of illegal," Brown chided.

Chiang raised an eyebrow. "Yes, but recent intel I was able to acquire suggests that this illicit affair was most likely a case of ... girl-on-girl action ..."

"Oh man, that is so hot!!"

http://h1.ripway.com/reclaim/kenny-try2.gif
Mission to the United Nations
The Federal Republic of OmigodtheykilledkennyAttn: Leetha Talone, Rubinan ambassador to the United Nations
Subject: Embassy exchange

Go fuck yourselves, you ridiculous twats! ... Er, sorry -- reverted to the Old Kennyite dialect there. What I mean to say is, I am authorized to inform you that the Department of State and the Federal Congress would be delighted to initiate formal diplomatic relations with the great nation of Rubina. It is with pleasure that the president of the Federal Republic approved your embassy and designated ambassador. Enclosed (ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/George_Brown) for your foreign ministry is some vital information on our proposed return envoy.Kindest regards,
Cdr. Jenny Chiang
Deputy Ambassador to the United Nations

After (more or less successfully) fiddling with the OMGTKK Congressional elections, Altanar's leadership decided that if they were going to take an interest in another nation's politics, it made at least some sense to establish diplomatic relations with said nation. Accordingly, the following missive was drafted and sent to OMGTKK:

http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r56/smurfie_bucket/ltrheadstate.jpg

To: OMGTKK Secretary of State Alex Tehrani
From: UCMA Secretary of State Nelron Khiskithy

Dear Mr. Tehrani,

The United Constitutional Monarchy of Altanar would like to establish formal diplomatic relations and exchange ambassadors with your fine nation. If this overture proves acceptable to your government, we would like to send Anandral Kasanex, a junior minister in our department, as our ambassador. You are welcome to establish an embassy in our capital, Ael Khalas, as well. We look forward to your reply.

Sincerely,
Nelron Khiskithy

Attn: His Majesty King Aelkyn of Altanar, and His Excellency Secretary Khiskithy
Subject: Embassy exchange

At the direction of President Fernanda, I am to inform you that, bearing Senate approval, the Federal Republic accepts your kind offer of a formal diplomatic relationship. Your embassy and ambassador (by the way, Anandral: is it a he? she?) are likewise approved, and the president will make a time available to Mr. Kasanex to accept his credentials at 10 Frowning Street in Paradise City. Your embassy, unless alternate facilities are sought, will be located at 34 Van Diesel Road on Paradise City's Embassy Row, between the embassies of Gruenberg and Ausserland.*

We will of course be seeking similar arrangements very soon, through the proper channels (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=513425).

Thanks for doing business with the best!Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

* See, that way, you'll be assaulted on two fronts: from the militant feminist agitators who never shave protesting the misogynistic Amb. Bausch on the Gruenberger side, and all the "insurgents" who to take particular joy in ceaselessly attacking the Ausserlander embassy on the other. Good luck with that! Heh, heh, heh...

[EDIT: our proposed embassy (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13047236&postcount=40).]

Central Government Complex
Sumanulla, Rubina

Jones knew the call would come at any time now. In preparation, he'd pulled out the ubiquitous Scotch bottle from his bottom drawer, poured three fingers, of which he had two left, and sent his aide on a wild goose chase in the archived files division. The apparatchiks of the central committee were generally malleable (and when not, he had his connections), but the process of doing so was one that the first secretary was quickly losing patience for.

The burp of the phone was soft, unobstrusive and refused to be ignored.

"Yes?" Jones modulated his voice into the comforting range, one used for dogs and small children.

"Have you seen the file on the new Kennyite ambassador?! How the hell are we going to keep this guy under control?!"

"We're not, Mr. Chairman. Going to keep him under control that is."

"What do you mean, Jones? And by the way, if this goes badly, it's your name on the recommendation for opening up relations."

"Is that a threat, Mr. Chairman?" Perhaps a bit of head principal attitude was warranted here, Jones thought to himself.

"I'm just saying, First Secretary, that the shit will land on your plate and there won't be anything I can do."

"Of course not, Mr. Chairman," leaving the insult hidden in plain sight. "We have solid information that as long as he is well fed, well liquored and well fucked, Ambassador Brown will be of little trouble."

"And you'll be seeing to that personally?"

"Of course, Mr. Chairman."

Hanging up, Jones sent a note to his harried aide to personally meet the new ambassador at the airport and to arrange for a welcoming "gift" to be sent to the new Kennyite embassy.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Paradise City, OMGTKK

The six foot tall, hour-glass figured blond walked through the airport turning heads as she went. Angel Eyes may have been a Half & Half, but she was all frankie. Dressed in a stunning red summer sheath and 4" red 'fuck-me' pumps, she was drawing double-takes from the other travelers.

Of course, having Deepak slung over her shoulder had a bit to do with that. To any that stared too long or looked as if they might be concerned, Angel Eyes demurely allowed that her boss "didn't fly well". Not expecting anyone to meet them (after all OMGTKK had a large diplomatic population and the Rubinans were just another small embassy among many) Angel Eyes made her way to baggage pickup and car rental.

Deepak, still looking a tad green, moaned a bit. A whimpered, "but I don't want to go" caused Angel Eyes to indiscretely roll her luscious brown eyes. She was also beginning to notice the chill. Even the goose-bumps of her plastiskin were standing at attention.

"Oh finally," she exhaled, as the baggage trundle began moving. "Thank heavens for diplomatic immunity," hoping as she said it that everything had been tagged correctly and that customs would be a breeze. A quick look at the discombobulated ambassador convinced Angel Eyes they wouldn't be presenting their diplomatic credentials to President Fernanda today at the very least....

Royal Ministries Building
Ael Khalas

"So I'm being sent where?" Anandral Kasanex (http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r56/smurfie_bucket/anandral.jpg) asked her boss incredulously. Nelron Khiskithy gave her a smile that was warm....entirely too warm, Kasanex noted unamusedly.

"You're officially our new ambassador to the wonderful Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny! Isn't that wonderful? And at such a young age, too...I think you're one of the youngest ambassadors we've ever sent abroad. You should be really proud..." Khiskithy trailed off, noticing the not-entirely-amused look on Kasanex's face.

"Nelron, let's cut the crap. Who did I piss off to get sent to that hellhole?" Kasanex snapped.

Khiskithy spread his hands wide, almost defensively. "Their whole country isn't a hellhole...just their capital...."

"Which, in their infinite wisdom," Kasanex snorted derisively, "is where they decide to send all their foreign embassies to. By the Pantheon, it's like if we told all the ambassadors that came here to set up shop in some galdak Family-controlled ghetto in Nalioka....only Paradise City makes Nalioka look like paradise, from what I've been told...at least here in Altanar, we have enough sense to try to put our best foot forward to other nations..."

"But that's exactly why we're sending you," Khiskithy interrupted smoothly. "Because you are a very sensible and capable diplomat, despite your age. And because, in their wisdom, the King and the High Council have decided that OMGTKK is a perfect place for sensible nations like Altanar, and their representatives, to bring about positive change through their good example. This is a bit of a test, you see....one that could determine the entire direction of Altanari foreign policy. As you know, we've never quite been able to decide between isolation and leadership on the international stage. We're getting past being isolationist...and now it's time to start showing the world what we stand for, and trying to shape the world. This is just the beginning...and you're the best person to kick it off. Being chosen for this job really is a great honor, though you may not see it now."

"Great," Kasanex snorted again. "Be sure to thank the King and High Council for me, and ask them what 'honor' they'd choose to visit upon me if I did piss them off," she added, striding out of the office.

After she left, Khiskithy laughed to himself. Indeed, she will do just fine, he thought.

---

Paradise City

Arriving at the local airport, Kasanex strode briskly through the terminal, flanked by several Royal Guards in their service dress (http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r56/smurfie_bucket/rgsemi.jpg) uniforms. Kasanex had been sorely tempted to order her escort to wear their full dress uniforms, complete with their horribly archaic but impressive and pretty swords...but she assumed that a bunch of soldiers carrying swords wouldn't go over well with whatever passed for airport security in OMGTKK. But a uniform was a uniform, and Kasanex hoped that her escort set the right tone. We may be in a hellhole, but by the Pantheon, we're still Altanari and we will represent the Crown and the country properly, she thought as she waited for the baggage and vehicles to be unloaded by the Royal Air Fleet personnel from the C-141 Starlifter (http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r56/smurfie_bucket/RAAF.jpg) that had delivered them.

Waiting in baggage claim area of Paradise City International Airport were State Department undersecretaries Terry Puni and Jack Riley. Due to budget cuts the department could only afford to send one welcoming party to greet the arriving delegations. And so the two men idled in a sea of passengers scurrying about to find their luggage, which sadly, in some cases, didn't all neatly arrive on the same conveyor belt -- they were tossed carelessly into the center of the floor, while travelers excitedly threw themselves upon the piles to seize their belongings.

As they continued to scan the frantic crowds for their targets, Riley turned on Puni. "What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked. "You're Regional Affairs. Neither of these nations is anywhere near us, geographically."

"Because I keep telling you, Jack, due to budget cuts--"

"The Start Department can't afford to hire me a staff. Yes, I know."

Luckily, amidst the chaos, Puni and Riley were able to spot the expected Rubinan entourage, though it would have been hard to miss, led as it was by a tall, breathtaking young woman who looked almost too good to be real, with a rather sick-looking boy slung over her shoulder.

Moments later, the Altanari party appeared, a curiously androgynous individual at its head. The undersecretaries separated to meet the delegations, Riley to the Rubinans and Puni to the Altanaris. After exchanging pleasantries, and allowing the delegations to gather their baggage, Puni led them all out the terminal to the curb outside, and a single limo awaiting them in the white zone. Due to budget cuts, of course, the undersecretaries and both entourages would all be forced to cram into the same vehicle.

"If you'll kindly join us, we'll take you to your assigned diplomatic offices," Puni announced cordially, opening the rear door for the foreign envoys.

"'Offices,' plural. Cute, Terry," Riley whispered, as Deepak, Angel Eyes and Kasanex crowded into the back seat with their respective companies. "When are you going to tell them that due to budget cuts they have to share the same embassy?"

"I'm sure they'll figure it out sooner or later," Puni replied. "Heh. A 'gender-challenged male' (?) and an android-like prostitute (along with that unwilling boytoy she seems to have brought with her), forced to work together in the same consular headquarters! It'll be like 'The Odd Couple'!"

"Oh, man! I loved that show!"

Deepak reluctantly woke as the group were being herded toward the limo. He thought that he should at least greet secretaries Puni and Riley while standing on his own two feet. Although he'd rehearsed something quite diplomatic, when Deepak opened his mouth, what came out was, "Hey, so this is Paradise City. For having such a lousy reputation, it doesn't seem that bad."

His foot, where Angel Eyes tromped down hard, was going to hurt like hell for a few days.

The limo sped through the city and Angel Eyes took the opportunity to unobtrusively observe the Kennyites. It helped when others assumed her primary duties were of an ... ah... "entertainment" nature. She wondered what the protocol was for offering her hosts a joint. Most frankies didn't care one way or another for the herb, but her human half found it calming. Riley looked as if he wouldn't mind, but Secretary Puni was an unknown to her. Not to mention the Altanari all buttoned up in their uniforms looking stiff upper lipish. Ah well, homework time when we get to the embassy, she promised herself.

Angel Eyes noticed Deepak's color going south and suggested that he lie down on the floor of the limo. It wasn't particularly dignified for an ambassador, but it had the advantage of shielding him from the "wonders" of Paradise City that were sliding past the window. Besides it made more room for the Altanari and her (his?) accompanying guards. Angel Eyes found herself hoping there would be an opportunity to get to know the new ambassador in the future.

As the limo pulled to the curb in front of a more than slightly run-down building, Deepak's retching broke through Angel Eye's wool-gathering.

"Oh dear, Mr. Riley, your shoes!"

During the ordeal of finding their luggage, cramming into a single vehicle, and making the "scenic" drive to the embassy, Anandral and her guards managed to avoid saying anything undiplomatic, or even allowing a hint of their dismay to escape onto their faces. Fixed, polite smiles were the order of the day, and even the retching of the Rubinian ambassador didn't cause an untoward reaction, although Anandral and her guards did discreetly move their feet out of the way.

Underneath her polite veneer, however, the Altanari ambassador was quite busy pondering events since her arrival in this rather strange land.

Her thoughts turned briefly to the other people in the limo, as she pondered what events could have led to such a poor showing by the Kennyite State Department. No one could fumble a diplomatic effort this badly, except by design, or due to disruption...I wonder which cause is behind this display of 'economy', she pondered.

Anandral then considered the Rubinians. That ambassador doesn't look like he could lead a hot dog stand, much less a diplomatic mission...I wonder who's really in charge... she thought, concluding that the woman who was "escorting" him was probably the real power behind things. Isn't it always the woman who's really in charge of things, though? she thought amusedly. At any rate, there will be time enough to figure all of this out...somehow I doubt I'm leaving this place any time soon, Anandral concluded as their vehicle pulled up to the curb. With a polite gesture, she waited for everyone else to exit the vehicle before her group.

UN Room, Ministry of Foreign Affairs
Saint Garzan, Kingsville, Brutland and Norden

Deputy Foreign Minister for the United Nations Dr. Cestre l'E. Montòccegliano ("Cheg") has just finished wiring the telegram for the establishment of an OMGTKK embassy in Brutland and Norden (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13093455&postcount=26). He was especially happy that a renowned nation such as OMGTKK has expressed interest in little-known Brutland and Norden.

He wanted to exchange embassies with OMGTKK, and had spent three hours organizing for one. He hadn't realized that it was going to be a tough job. It has been three hours and he still hadn't found a willing ambassador - Nord-Brutlandese diplomats are scarce...

His attention was then caught on Deputy UN Ambassador Pedrana's telegram. His neurons began on firing.

He rapidly placed a call to the Nord-Brutlandese UN Office. "Si... this is Deputy Foreign Minister Montòccegliano... Ambassador Spicolli's at the Bar? Oh. How about Deputy Ambassador Pedrana?"

Cheg shifted slightly in his seat. When Deputy Ambasador Pedrana went on the line, he explained his intention.

"Me Dax! Thank you, Mr. Montòccegliano. Finally we can get rid of that kid! What will you do now? Can you hang him on the gallows for all the trouble he's caused?"

"No." Cheg paused. "We would be sending him as an ambassador to Omigodtheykilledkenny." He felt the rush of indignation and shock from the other end of the line. Pedrana was absolutely aghast... to think that that pesky little cretin would be promoted first before her!!

"Surely you've got to be kidding, Mr. Montòccegliano! You don't want that kid - "

'You know damn well I'm serious," Cheg said. "Get him on the line."

After he talks to the boy, the only thing he has to do is to push Kyle di Fontana's nomination in the House of Lords.

The government limo pulled up on the site of Altanari embassy on Van Diesel Road; from the tinted windows, through the dark of the eternal Antarctic midnight, the building looked reasonable enough: clean, well-kept, accommodating; only two stories, but included a wide outdoor balcony. It was a bit small, however, and horribly situated. To the immediate north, a gaggle of feminist protesters permanently encamped outside Amb. Bausch's embassy hissed evilly at the government vehicle. To the south, the shadowed faces of militants peered out from behind trees and bushes on the Ausserlander grounds, vanishing at the sound of gunfire from Amb. Yossarian's window, and reappearing moments later.

Puni crowded out of the back along with the rest of the limo's passengers -- save Riley, who stayed sullenly behind, vainly trying to salvage what were now clearly unsalvageable black suede leather shoes.

Outside on the sidewalk, the other undersecretary in their duo tried to conceal the apprehension in his face; he still hadn't broken the news about the embassy arrangements (or lack thereof) to the Rubinans, who had climbed out as well, presumably to stretch their legs. The shortage of diplomatic facilities was bad enough, even without the approaching arrival of the Nord-Brutlandese entourage.

Riley had sorted out that matter, he told Puni and Tehrani earlier that day in Tehrani's office. He'd simply arranged for the teenage emissary to take a suite in President Fernanda's quarters at 10 Frowning Street. That way, if the kid got ornery or out of line, he could be told to "go to his room."

"And what will Kyle's parents think when they find out about all the ... debauchery going on the executive residence?!" Tehrani had demanded.

Riley waved off those concerns lightly, calmly reminding the secretary that the Karmicarians hadn't been heard from in weeks -- including the "ambassador" with whom the president was currently shacking up -- and that the CPESL (http://z11.invisionfree.com/Antarctic_Oasis/index.php?showtopic=21) had simply vanished (ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Cluichstan) from the face of the Earth.

"I was referring to Fernanda's porno stash!" Tehrani snapped.

"Oh ... that," Riley said uncomfortably. "Well ... I suppose if Kyle finds it, he'll be the luckiest boy in the world!"

Puni sighed. None of what had transpired before had solved the predicament he faced with the Rubinans. He turned to Angel Eyes, now holding up the ill-looking ambassador so he could take in some fresh air. "Would you care to tour the embassy?" the undersecretary asked pleasantly.

He laughed nervously at what he could have sworn was a polite inquiry from the woman as to where her nation's headquarters were to be located.

"Oh," he said as he backed into the limo, "I guess you'll just have to duke that out with Altanar!

"Drive! Drive!" he barked at the driver as he pulled the door shut, and the vehicle sped dramatically into the night.

I'd like to have an embassy and you can too! (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=531485) Embassies for everyone! ;)

Did you respond to this?

OOC: This is a roleplay thread; if you have an RP post to contribute, I'll be happy to respond. Details in OP.

OOC: This is a roleplay thread; if you have an RP post to contribute, I'll be happy to respond. Details in OP.

OK then.

The security detail that had accompanied Anandral took one look at the embassy location, and immediately came to an unspoken consensus. They began moving to secure the location, as the rest of the Altanari security force and embassy staff began arriving in the vehicles that had unloaded from the Starlifter that had delivered them. Why, in the seven hells, didn't I just ride with them? Anandral thought.

As the limo sped off into the night, Anandral looked over at the Rubinians. "Would you like to begin flipping coins to see who gets what rooms?" she asked them, a ghost of a smile appearing on her face.

Be aware that in the interests of cutting costs, the following inactive embassies will be closed. All Kennyite personnel assigned to these nations will be either recalled, retired or reassigned. These embassies may be approved for reestablishment by request of the previous owner.

Furthermore, the plots on which these embassies are currently located will be up for auction at a date to be set later.

The embassies to be closed are: The Black New World
Ceorana
Cluichstan
Dancing Bananland
Habardia
Khailfah al Muslimeen
Knootoss
Metaddan
Myroria
Pantycellen
Roach-Busters
UzibookabeckistanWe apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.

Sincerely,
Michael Kennedy
Undersecretary for Administration and Management

As the limo sped off into the night, Anandral looked over at the Rubinians. "Would you like to begin flipping coins to see who gets what rooms?" she asked them, a ghost of a smile appearing on her face.Angel Eyes stared in disbelief for a very long 30 seconds as Undersecretary Puni ran to the limo yelling “Drive, drive, dammit, drive”. The realization that there was to be no separate embassy accommodations dawned on her like a nuclear sun.

Flashing a by-your-leave smile toward Ambassador Kasanex, and kicking of her stilettos, the frankie ran like a rabbit pursued by a hungry hawk toward the building. Pushing the Altanari stragglers out of the way with her perfect lab-created elbows, she burst through the door. Angel Eyes raced up the stairs to the right of the reception area three risers at a time, her red skirt hiked as far up her thighs as she could get it without causing a true international incident.

Shooting out into the sunlight dappled hallway, she noted the positions of the rooms and their relative sizes. Heading straight toward the first room on the left, Angel Eyes positioned all six feet of herself in the doorway, and called, “Dibs! This is my room.”

Deepak merely rolled his eyes and looked sick. “Frankies,” shaking his head. "Let's just go in and see what's what."

Anandral simply shrugged and began walking towards the building, waving down some Royal Guards who looked like they were about to take exception to being elbowed, by a diplomat or not. "It's just your pride wounded, boys, don't make an issue of it," she said under her breath as she passed her escort.

In the hallway, she looked around, and upon finding a suitable room, she waved some of the guards forward. They began examining the room, making sure it was reasonably safe to occupy. "I wonder if we'll be able to expand this building at all," she murmured under her breath.

UN Room, Ministry of Foreign Affairs
Saint Garzan, Kingsville, Brutland and Norden

"I've arranged for Mr. di Fontana's staff," Ernestina told Deputy Foreign Minister for the United Nations Dr. Cestre l'E. Montòccegliano. "I think - " she glanced at her watch - "they should be there by now."
- - - - -
Paradise City, Omigodtheykilledkenny

Kyle di Fontana stepped down of the ramp and onto the runway, dragging his luggage with him. He headed for the taxi line, excited for this new adventure.

"Kyle!"
He turned around and looked back at the plane. He saw a boy and a girl running down the ramp towards him, with the boy burdened by lots of luggage. He stood still near the entrance of the terminal, perplexed, waiting for them to approach him.

"Who are you? Are you two with me?"
The girl nodded, catching her breath.
"Seriously?"
"Yes," the girl answered. "We're your embassy staff!!"
Kyle was perplexed. First of all, Dr. Montòccegliano did not say anything about any companions. Second, there are only two of them... and lastly, the two were teenagers.

"I don't believe you," he said to them. "Go back to the plane when you can still - " Kyle glanced over at the plane and it was starting to leave! Damn!
The girl extended her hand for a handshake. "Gabriella Rotanelli. I'm your embassy staff/secretary/deputy/whatever."

Kyle realized that this was no turning back and they would be with him... so he figured that it would be better to know them. The girl looked younger than him, with long braided blonde hair, and dressed in rather conservative clothes - not revealing much skin. He took her extended hand, bent down a bit, and kissed her hand. "It's nice to meet you," he said, looking up at her, who has started to blush. "I'm Kyle - "

"Kyle di Fontana," Gabriella completed for him.
Kyle chuckled. "If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?"
"I'm sixteen," she replied with a big grin.
Kyle's jaw nearly dropped. "Wha- wait, YOU ARE SIXTEEN!? Are you kidding me? Oh my goodness - "
"You seem to be very surprised at my age, do I look old?"
"Ah, no," he said dismissively. "I thought my companions, if ever I should have, would be way older than me."
She gave him a sneaky smile, and gave a friendly backslap at the boy who carried her luggage. "He is fourteen."
"Damn!" Kyle exclaimed. "So we're all adolescents here?! What your name?"
"Cadet First Class Carlo Franco Moretti, sir!" The boy then gave Kyle a salute.
"Okay..." Kyle looked at him. The boy was clad with the Nord-Brutlandese Army battledress, standing and acting like a soldier. It was damn obvious to Kyle that he had a soldier with his company... but Brutland and Norden has child soldiers? He couldn't believe it. "You are fourteen and a soldier?"

"No, sir! I'm a cadet sir!"
Kyle nearly covered his ears with the soldier boy's loud booming voice. "Easy. you don't need to shout - "
"Sir, yes, sir!"
Kyle let out a deep sigh. "Alright, alright," he said, racking his brain for ways on how to deal with this situation. "Let's just go to this address (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/10_Frowning_Street) now."

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v42/allanea/Propaganda/deptstate.gif
Official Announcement of the United States of Allanea

For reasons of our own, we decided to create and mount in the city of Deriksburg a 30-meter-tall statue of ambassador Jack Riley, poured out of stainless steel and chromed, so it proves almost as hardcore as the UN Ambassador himself. We hope it is okay with Mr. Riley, who will be paid two million dollars in royalties from the statue.

"What is wrong with these Nord-Brutlandese?" Debbie marveled as she watched Ambassador di Fontana and what appeared to be two school friends breeze in and out of their assigned suite in the president's private residence to set up their diplomatic offices.

"They're just kids, Deb," said Andrew. "They should fit right in with the rest of the locals."

"Not that. I mean, what's with them sending a sixteen-year-old girl to live with the world's biggest pervert (ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Manuelo_Fernanda)? What would her parents think?"

"Hmm, that does present a problem," Andrew replied thoughtfully. "But I think we can cook up a plan to keep the president away from her. We'll just introduce him to some previously unknown facts about this girl, that may or may not be verifiable by independent sources."

"You mean lie?"

"Yes, lie. And let's hope that the president's behavior doesn't start to rub off on an impressionable youth like Kyle."

"Surely," Debbie agreed. "Ambassador Spicolli would wring both our necks otherwise."

"Anyways, you hear about Riley (ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Jack_Riley)?" Andrew asked as the two continued to watch the kids move into their rooms.

"Only that everyone's talking about how much he's redeemed himself in the negotiations in West Ariddia," Debbie said uninterestedly. "Why? What else is new about him?"

"It seems one nation was so impressed by his hardline stances against West Ariddian communism that they've seen fit to erect a 100-foot stainless-steel statue in his honor, and send him $2 million in royalties for using his likeness to boot."

"And Riley accepted?"

"Heh. Even if the statue was an effigy, Riley wouldn't say no to $2 million."

Debbie seemed satisfied at first, but suddenly turned on Andrew, concern in her face.

"You don't think they'd actually build a statue just to ... ?"

"Oh, no," Andrew said. "They said Riley was 'hardcore,' so we're assuming it was meant as a compliment."

Just then, Fernanda came striding up the hall in naught but a bathrobe and slippers, wielding a martini glass. He stared after Gabriella approvingly as she whisked by excitedly.

"Hey guys," he said to his assistants. "What's cracking? Who's the sexpot?"

"Nord-Brutlandese diplomatic staff," Debbie informed him. "She's--"

"I'm down with that!" Fernanda replied. "You think she'd like to hook up for some--?" He began to gesture obscenely, but Debbie quickly interrupted him.

"She's only 13, Mr. President!" she said.

"That sucks!" Fernanda said disappointedly. "I guess I'll have to wait a few years before I try to get at that, huh?"

"And she was born with a penis!" Andrew chimed in nervously. "Mutilated; they had to chop it off and reassign her as a girl."

Fernanda shuddered. "No thanks!"

"Besides, Mr. President," Debbie continued, gently leading the half-nude president away from the underage girl, "Cas is waiting for you in the bedroom. She seems to think you're overstressed, and that a session of yoga might be good for you."

"Nah, you know I don't really go for that kind of New Age crap--"

"Naked yoga!" Andrew said.

"Oh baby!" Fernanda growled as he sprinted toward his bedroom, the robe flying off along the way.

[OOC notes: Debbie is Fernanda's executive secretary; Andrew is his personal assistant. And 17 is considered "legal" in Paradise City; even Fernanda's not that perverted.]

"This place is nice," Gabriella remarked as she strode down the corridor, meeting a man who seemed to have just come out of the bathroom. The man looked at her lustily, but she didn't bother... (she doesn't know how a lusty look looks like anyway) "So we're living in here?"

"Yes," Kyle answered. "I think our offices are in here also."

Kyle led them around to a door at the end of the corridor. "I think this is it."

Gabriella held the doorknob and turned it as she pushed the door.

http://img530.imageshack.us/img530/1047/enterroomez0.png
"Cool!" Gabriella said as she entered the room. The big spacious room on the 27th floor was all theirs!

http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c139/Iron_1984/Pinguinum/offcorr-kop.png


Dear nation of Omigodtheykilledkenny,

Regardless of political positions, we would like to set up an embassy in your nation. If possible we would like to send Lord Galapagos. As you say 'even the Penguins have guns'. Did you that all penguins live in the southern hemisphere.

Faithfully,
Rt. Hon. Ray Fin MPP

The winds blew through the Omigodtheykilledkenny foreign office. Either they were terribly busy or on holiday.

OOC: Some patience, love -- we still haven't figured out how to designate the Pinguinum visitors from the locals; for as you know, one species of penguin is rather benign, the other quite dangerous. For RP purposes, you may assume that the embassy request has been rubber-stamped; a return envoy will be named shortly.

OOC: Aha, there you are... was wondering if this was indeed active.
By the way, I didn't actually say we would be sending any penguins.

The Empire of Zarquon Froods most humbly requests an embassy with the Kennyites. I have just the Frood to serve as ambassador, you should quite enjoy him as he as one of my top assistants. His name is Clyde Flimthrop.

Best Regards,
Zarquon

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/attachment.php?attachmentid=60070&d=1195385945

To: The Office of Manuelo Fernanda
From: Ambassador Beesks2 Hu Re9 _ Mra6 of the Holy Empire of Mon Kye En

I, Ambassador Beesks2 Hu Re9 _ Mra6 of the Holy Empire of Mon Kye En, who may be referred to as Ambassador BesksWho if it is easier, have been tasked with the goal of setting up international relations with your fine nation, The Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny.

As part of international relations we seek a number of different goals:

0) A meeting, preferably over a meal, to discuss the matters in person, with whoever you judge is best suited. The late president and general of the armies personal luxury jet is standing by, and so is a team of chefs, servants, and entertainers ready to cater the event in utmost luxury and culture. 2 7lb Monkyeenese White Lobsters, 2 3lb Monkyeenese King Clams, and a verity of other national delicacies await.

1) The Creation of Any Embassy with housing for up to 130 staff members including 40 honor guards (may share same room), 20 security guards (may share same room), 16 low level staff (4 to a room), 40 lower level bureaucrats and 2 skilled staff members (each requires own room but not large), 5 middle level bureaucrats (each requires twice the space of a lower level), 1 upper level bureaucrat (who would be the ambassador), and 4 luxury suits to service important guests. It also must have facilities for cultural shows, dinners, teaching, a small restaurant...

2) Should the Embassy be satisfactory, the creation of a school for up to 3000 students from the Holy Empire of Mon Kye En to study in your fine nation. The school should also have facilities to help improve international relations and understanding such as a museum, a theater,

http://h1.ripway.com/reclaim/kenny-try2.gif
Department of State
The Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny

Regardless of political positions, we would like to set up an embassy in your nation. If possible we would like to send Lord Galapagos.FAO: His Majesty King Dwight of Pinguinum, and the Rt. Hon. Ray Finn
Re: Embassy request

We are honored to accept your request for an embassy exchange, and to approve your proposed envoy, Lord Galapagos. We assure you he will feel quite welcome in the embassy we have assigned for you in the Indomitable Fortress of Avilla the Hun. We wish also to reciprocate with a designee of our own to represent our interests in the kingdom. Our proposed ambassador is Mrs. Sandra Liebowitz (http://www.proof7.com/p7nyc/images/women_13-thumb.jpg), a former federal judge (1995-2002) and the outgoing Conservative governor of Thorland (2002-present). It is rumored that the highly moralistic Mrs. Liebowitz has been in discussion with certain morality groups (among them, Kennyite Orthodox Puritans For Ending Excessive Libertinism, or KOP-a-FEEL) about possibly challenging President Fernanda for the Conservative Party nomination for president in 2010. Apparently, Fernanda's grown a bit, er, "libertarian" for some party members' taste. [OOC: read this thread for details.] We fear that an ambassadorial appointment may not be enough to stave off Mrs. Liebowitz's presidential ambitions, however; we'll give her a seat on the Supreme Court if we have to. In the meantime, we're sure she'll enjoy her time in your fine nation.

The Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico sends his kindest regards.Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

[OOCedit: See also this post (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13230271&postcount=128).]

The Empire of Zarquon Froods most humbly requests an embassy with the Kennyites. I have just the Frood to serve as ambassador, you should quite enjoy him as he as one of my top assistants. His name is Clyde Flimthrop.FAO: The Mighty Zarquon of Zarquon Froods
Re: Embassy exchange

We are pleased to announced that your embassy request, and proposed ambassador, Clyde Flimthrop (about whom we are eager to learn more), have been approved. Our return envoy will be Miss Erica Dolittle (http://www.buddytv.com/articles/Smallville/Images/erica_durance_2.jpg), who holds a master's degree in international diplomacy from Metropolis University in Paradise City, and for the last three years has served as a State Department analyst on dangerous rogue regimes. Rest assured, Miss Dolittle is firmly in the "Nuke 'em All to Hell!" School of Diplomacy when it comes to that particular area of international engagement. She has also suggested that the Federal Republic and a coalition of UN partners make immediate plans for the liberation of Vista Buena from its current tyrannical Grammar Nazi regime. We feel, given her politics, experience and general no-nonsense demeanor, that she would be perfect to represent our interests in the great Zarquon Empire.

The Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico sends his kindest regards.Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

FAO: His Excellency Amb. Beesks2 Hu Re9 _ Mra6 of the Holy Empire of Mon Kye En
Re: Embassy request

First off, let me express my appreciation to you for your interest in our Embassy Exchange Program.

As part of international relations we seek a number of different goals:

0) A meeting, preferably over a meal, to discuss the matters in person, with whoever you judge is best suited. The late president and general of the armies personal luxury jet is standing by, and so is a team of chefs, servants, and entertainers ready to cater the event in utmost luxury and culture. 2 7lb Monkyeenese White Lobsters, 2 3lb Monkyeenese King Clams, and a verity of other national delicacies await.Assistant Secretary Jack Riley would be delighted to attend such a conference, presumably to be held in your nation?

1) The Creation of Any Embassy with housing for up to 130 staff members including 40 honor guards (may share same room), 20 security guards (may share same room), 16 low level staff (4 to a room), 40 lower level bureaucrats and 2 skilled staff members (each requires own room but not large), 5 middle level bureaucrats (each requires twice the space of a lower level), 1 upper level bureaucrat (who would be the ambassador), and 4 luxury suits to service important guests. It also must have facilities for cultural shows, dinners, teaching, a small restaurant...We deem such an extensive diplomatic presence in our nation's capital to be inappropriate at this time. Given our current budget difficulties, we simply cannot guarantee the security and maintenance of the facilities necessary to accommodate such a large contingent. We would urge you to cut your proposed staff by at least half before we can accept this request.

2) Should the Embassy be satisfactory, the creation of a school for up to 3000 students from the Holy Empire of Mon Kye En to study in your fine nation. The school should also have facilities to help improve international relations and understanding such as a museum, a theater,We will reluctantly pass on such an arrangement, but hopefully the establishment of full diplomatic relations between our two nations will expedite any student-visa requests for citizens of your great nation.

Thank you for immediately addressing these concerns of ours. We will hold off on naming a suitable envoy until we feel these issues have been resolved.

Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/zarquon_froods.jpg
Department of Foreign Affairs
The Empire of Zarquon Froods

From the Desk of The Honorable Clyde Flimthrop

TO:Alex Tehrani, Secretary of State, Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny

Dear Sir,

On behalf of my nation, I am most gracious that you have accepted our request for an embassy. Allow me to give you a little background on myself. I attended The Prophetic Institute for Transdimensional Solutions (PITTS). Where I recieved my Doctorate in Political Science and Masters in Aggressive Political Warfare. I have one rule regarding nations that fail to see the reasoning of my arguments and that is they must be obliterated. I look forward to moving my office to your nation, and send this picture (http://25frames.org/media/news/richard_dreyfuss.jpg) of myself should I be found lost in transit.

Sincerely,
Hon. Clyde Flimthrop
Secretary of Foreign Affairs

Foreign Legate Office
The Democratic States of Vista Buena

TO:Alex Tehrani, Secretary of State, Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny

Dear Sir,

The Democratic States of Vista Buena would like to open talks on increasing relations between our two nations. We are ready to commence negotiations as soon as possible.

Also, we would like to file a diplomatic protest against the Empire of Zarquon Froods over their conspiracy to compromise and destroy our nation's sovereignty, liberty, democracy, and our way of life. Our nation has a sovereign right to voice its opinions to the rest of the world, and as long as our citizens are not repressed (and there are no evidence to even hint at signs of oppression), no nation has the right to attempt to compromise our nation's sovereignty, and deny, to our citizens, the divine and inviolable rights to liberty and democracy.

Sincerely,
Christoffel Anderson
Chief Foreign Legate
The Democratic States of Vista Buena

To Assistant Secretary Jack Riley
From Be esks2 Hu Re9 _ Mra6 (佩休 里馬), Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary Primus inter pares.

Meeting
I think think it would be better for the meeting to take place in your capital as our capital is under restoration and lacks a well developed infrastructure. Just name a time, place and airport and I, or if I am unable to attend another qualified ambassador, will be there.

Revised request for Mon Kye Embassy
Facility must include offices for and living quarters for:
33 Mon Kye Min7 (people of the nation of Mon Kye En) staff members total (8 honor guards, 2 skilled workers (chiefs), 8 security guards, 12 lower level bureaucrats, 2 middle level bureaucrats, 1 upper level bureaucrat).

Living quarters need not be located in the same facility as office quarters. An entire building is not needed as a number of floors in a large building can probably meet requirements. If facility is housed in a mixed used building than it must be possible that all people are rooted through the same lobby [of Mon Kye En] for access to the Mon Kye En Embassy.

The embassy would require addition employees, which would need to be from your nation, for other jobs such as cooks (to assist the chiefs) and cleaning staff.

-Beesks2 Hu Re9 _ Mra6

The Democratic States of Vista Buena would like to open talks on increasing relations between our two nations. We are ready to commence negotiations as soon as possible.

Also, we would like to file a diplomatic protest against the Empire of Zarquon Froods over their conspiracy to compromise and destroy our nation's sovereignty, liberty, democracy, and our way of life. Our nation has a sovereign right to voice its opinions to the rest of the world, and as long as our citizens are not repressed (and there are no evidence to even hint at signs of oppression), no nation has the right to attempt to compromise our nation's sovereignty, and deny, to our citizens, the divine and inviolable rights to liberty and democracy.We fear you may have confused our ambassador to Zarquon Froods with Zarquon Froods itself. Rest assured, Miss Dolittle is only a diplomat and has no authority to "compromise and destroy" your nation's sovereignty. If you feel that establishing diplomatic relations with our nation is in your best interests, then by all means, name a suitable envoy. We're prepared to deal with any psychopath you can dream up. Bring it on.

Meeting
I think think it would be better for the meeting to take place in your capital as our capital is under restoration and lacks a well developed infrastructure. Just name a time, place and airport and I, or if I am unable to attend another qualified ambassador, will be there.We'll have to take a raincheck, since our government will be quite preoccupied with regional matters in the short term. However, we would be honored to host a delegation from your nation at a time to be determined later.

Revised request for Mon Kye Embassy
Facility must include offices for and living quarters for:
33 Mon Kye Min7 (people of the nation of Mon Kye En) staff members total (8 honor guards, 2 skilled workers (chiefs), 8 security guards, 12 lower level bureaucrats, 2 middle level bureaucrats, 1 upper level bureaucrat).

Living quarters need not be located in the same facility as office quarters. An entire building is not needed as a number of floors in a large building can probably meet requirements. If facility is housed in a mixed used building than it must be possible that all people are rooted through the same lobby [of Mon Kye En] for access to the Mon Kye En Embassy.

The embassy would require addition employees, which would need to be from your nation, for other jobs such as cooks (to assist the chiefs) and cleaning staff.These terms are acceptable. You and your staff may begin moving in to the eighth floor of Paradise City's Palestinian Hotel at your leisure.

Our return envoy will be Chris Leever, a mild-mannered metropolitan reporter by day, a crime-fighting superhero at night. At least that's what he thinks; he sort of has trouble designating fantasy from reality. Just play along with him when you meet him. He will require round-the-clock psychiatric attention, but those services will be proffered by our embassy. We are be willing to accept any facility you'd be able to furnish locally. Please contact Mr. Leever's secretary, Jane (http://www.nationalledger.com/artman/uploads/vanessa_minnillo_001.jpg), if you have any questions. Thank you.

Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State

We fear you may have confused our ambassador to Zarquon Froods with Zarquon Froods itself. Rest assured, Miss Dolittle is only a diplomat and has no authority to "compromise and destroy" your nation's sovereignty. If you feel that establishing diplomatic relations with our nation is in your best interests, then by all means, name a suitable envoy. We're prepared to deal with any psychopath you can dream up. Bring it on.

Our Legate to your nation will be Matthew Christiaan Abercrombie. A career legate, he also worked as the Foreign Correspondent for our nation's top newspaper, Focus. He graduated from the Free University of Vista Buena with a degree in International Affairs. His family is the owner of the Abercrombie Group, a very powerful retail company in our nation.


We would like to see our Embassy to have A standalone building for offices, and another for living quarters. We will be sending 80 staff to the embassy, 50 of which will be Embassy workers of various ranks. 30 Vista Buena Marines will be stationed at the Embassy to protect it.

Any other additional employees will be hired from the population of your nation.

We are delighted to have a chance to establish relations with your nation.

Our Legate to your nation will be Matthew Christiaan Abercrombie. A career legate, he also worked as the Foreign Correspondent for our nation's top newspaper, Focus. He graduated from the Free University of Vista Buena with a degree in International Affairs. His family is the owner of the Abercrombie Group, a very powerful retail company in our nation.

We would like to see our Embassy to have A standalone building for offices, and another for living quarters. We will be sending 80 staff to the embassy, 50 of which will be Embassy workers of various ranks. 30 Vista Buena Marines will be stationed at the Embassy to protect it.Mr. Abercrombie will be welcomed in Paradise City as the duly accredited representative of your nation, and is free to present his credentials to President Fernanda at his convenience. Your government will be leased a 12-acre plot at 41 Van Diesel Road to build your embassy compound.

Our ambassador-designate to Vista Buena is Jann Christensen (http://images.zap2it.com/20060122/bretharrison_theloop_240.jpg), a successful Internet businessman who can attribute much of his good fortune to family connections. His cousin is semi-supermodel Janis Fritzsdottir, who is married to Treasury Secretary Jimmy Baca. Christensen gets on well with his beloved cousin, and sometimes at night, when he thinks no one's watching, he likes to slip into her outfits to see how he looks in them. But don't let his quirks put you off; he's still one hell of a diplomat. He'll be assisted by a staff of about 20 flunkies, and a contingent of 10 ceremonial C4 Penguin guards.

We look forward to improved relations between our two great nations. Feel free to correct this missive for any grammatical errors found therein.

Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State