So who won the jungle bungalow?
Well, after lots of deliberation on the entries, I have decided to expand the compound to invite all of the applicants, and give them a bungalow each. We’ll need plenty of room, as someone wants to bring Michael Jackson, a Giant Peach, and a deconstructivist anvil of veracity. There will be a big party after one week of aclimatisation, in which the locals will be shocked and amused to see people:
- wiggling ears, putting fists in their mouths, doing backflips
- blowing bubbles through their tear ducts
- cracking bull whips and levitating
- drinking heavily and performing Jedi mind-tricks
- burping national anthems and doing handstands
After the party, we’ll repair to the river with one of my favourite new gifts (not to mention clean pants and saved souls), the PISCO-BE-GONE…
The NEW!! PISCO-BE-GONE speargun. Fully equipped with Titanium flukes & tines on the arrow heads, these fletched and ready to go scourges of the sea are fully powered and ready to go after only ten minutes out of the box (once a suitable radioactive power source has been located of course). With one of these PISCO-BE-GONE beauties in your hand and switched to fully automatic, you can render a season of turtle mating completely obsolete. Alternatively, go shark fishing. With an almost inexhaustible supply of spears, you can painfully wound animals in the fins. Laugh with your buddies as they swim helplessly in circles, around your boat! Pathetically bleeding their lives, as they maintain their concentricity to their very tormentors! Pop! There goes an eyeball! Bang! Yeah! I got the Bud can stuck on its head! By getting one of these brand new models, you are also entered FREE into the grand prize draw – A week on the Galapagos Islands. Biodiversity through a big tortoise?
fuck ’em all, that’s what we say. Just remember the PISCO-BE-GONE, the byword for reliability and defence, corporate mission – When global warming finally brings the shores lapping to your doorstep, do you think marine life will pause for one instant before cruelly, senselessly, eating your children? No sir. Strike now, and strike hard. Give the finned, webbed and be-gilled bastards a taste of their own medicine, before they have a chance to become doctors.
DON’T LET SOMEONE ELSE’S APOCALYPTIC VISION CONTROL
YOUR DESTINY!! FOR GOD’S SAKE – START THE KILLING NOW!!!
Although someone from Trekforce tells me that the jungle is colder and wetter than you imagine, so it might not be all its cracked up to be. Unless I build a big sun deck and chop down some of those pesky hardwood trees….