Category: #JagmeetSingh

The Rise & Fall of Gaston the Incredible: Part Seven

The Long March

Charlie had got his two Reptile Club shots when he was nine years old. Aged fourteen he collapsed during a PE class and had to have his lower right leg removed due to a blood clot.   

There were thousands of kids like Charlie across Peopleland who had had their lives and families destroyed by the Reptile Club injection & the regime mandates. His parents had both died of turbo cancer less than a year later.

Now aged sixteen Charlie lived with his grandfather in a small apartment on the 19th floor an oppressive concrete tower block owned by a CCP fentanyl kingpin. Charlie’s Grandfather had bought him his lottery ticket as an act of love more than anything else; neither of them really believed they had any chance of winning.

On Saturday evening Charlie sat with his grandfather huddled in front of the television watching the live draw unfold. As the numbers of the winning ticket were announced, Charlie followed each on the ticket he’d kept carefully folded in a pocket, expecting at any moment that they would stop matching the ones he saw laid out before him. As the fifth & sixth numbers were read out, he suddenly became disconnected from what was happening.

‘Grandad… Grandad… We’ve won… We’ve won!’

‘Let me see son’

Together they carefully confirmed the numbers as they were repeated and then stood staring at each other in disbelief.

‘You’ve won Charlie! You’ve won the Execution lottery!’ His grandfather cried. ‘You must call them immediately.’

The execution of Gaston was to be carried out in the capital in two week’s time. Charlie didn’t have the money to travel to the capital, but he did have his father’s old rifle – a bolt-action 22LR; one of only a handful that Gaston had not banned.

Charlie called the lottery company and informed them that he was the winner, but that he did not have the money to travel from the coast to the capital. However, he told them – if they were willing to wait, he was willing to walk all the way there. He pondered the practicalities of executing a man with a bolt action 22 with the appreciation that it might take Gaston a while to die with such a weapon, but after some consideration concluded that this might also be fitting.

King Donny heard about this young man who had been injured by the Reptile Club injections; whose parents had also lost their jobs during Gaston’s mandates, and who was willing to walk with a prosthetic leg all the way across the country carrying his father’s rifle in order to carry out the order of the court, and immediately offered to drive him all the way in a gold plated Cybertruck.

Charlie politely declined the offer, ‘No, it’s O.K. Sir, I’d rather walk; It’ll give me time to think.’

‘You take as long as you need Charlie.’ King Donny told him.

The new government free media picked up on this story and started reporting on what was promising to be an epic solo journey across the country by a disabled boy with a mission.

Walking on his prosthetic leg, and with his father’s bolt action 22LR rifle slug over his shoulder, Charlie set off for the capital and his date with destiny. In the capital awaited Gaston the Incredible – convicted of treason, mass murder and embezzlement, sat in prison awaiting Charlie’s arrival and the fulfillment of the sentence upon him.

Crowds of women young and old lined the highway throwing flowers at his feet as the boy limped along the national highway. Camera crews on motorbikes and hanging out off back of trucks crept along beside as if he was the Yellow Vest leader working his way purposefully up a step incline.

People emerged from the same villages that had run Gaston & Bollywood out town during his Grand Tour, to offer bottles of water and to cheer the nation’s new hero on. Old women reached out to try and touch or kiss the old battered rifle that would dispatch the tyrant Gaston, whilst throngs of people emerged along the way to join Charlie’s long march to the capital’s main square – the very same square in which Gaston’s Royal Police of Infinite Justice had crushed the people of Peopleland when they dared to stand up to him.  

As the growing convoy made its way across the country through sun, rain and storm, King Donny & Tony Tesla made preparations in the capital.

Along with the Gaston regime, King Donny had decided that the entire Royal state apparatus – Royal state media, Royal Police of Infinite Justice, and all the corrupt judges who allowed Gaston to stay in power should not escape punishment.

He announced that, seeing as they had facilitated all the societal ills the Gaston regime had been responsible for, they would all be exiled to an experimental island which was to be co-managed by the religion of perpetual violence and the people who did not know if they were a girl or a boy cult.

King Donny held a press conference and declared:

“These institutions failed to protect those they were entrusted to serve, and today we are going to set that right. Gaston told the people that the religion of perpetual violence and the people who don’t know if they are a girl or a boy would live harmoniously simple because they love him. Well, from today those that failed in their duty to protect the people from tyranny will be sent to a Trans-Islamic penal colony on a remote island for the rest of their lives.. We’re gonna check in with them in five years and see how it’s all going. Let this be a lesson to everyone: not all new ideas are good, some are just bad. ”

As Charlie and his convoy of supporters entered the capital, Gaston heard the cheers of the crowd and truck horns approaching through the bars of his window.

The guards informed him that the executioner was only sixteen, and was going to use one of the few firearms he had not ban for his execution; and that subsequently it might take him some time to die. Gaston suddenly regretted banning everything that would have killed him quickly, and longed for the days when a condemned man could pay the executioner the night before to ensure his blade was razor sharp, or in this case set the fire selector to fully auto.

That night both Charlie and Gaston prepared themselves for the big day in their own ways. Charlie watched YouTube videos of ‘how to kill a man with a single shot 22LR’, whilst Gaston and his government enjoyed their final meal courtesy of the taxpayer, the cost of which came in at just under $117,000. Later that evening Gaston requested a Trans-Islamic preacher, but one couldn’t be found, so he had to settle for a Trans person pretending to be a hate preacher. 

The next morning whilst it was still dark, Gaston rose put on his regimental blackface and laid out his costume for this final engagement. After going through the dressing up box many times, and deliberating over his options, he finally settled on his iconic Arabian Nights costume, the photos of which had started the blackface scandal in the first place.      

At dawn Gaston was led out into the main square in full regimental blackface and dressed in his white Arabian Night costume complete with a large bejewelled turban which caught the early morning sunlight giving it an iridescent sparkle. The bronze statue of Gaston on Gay Day, the stroller containing a child and the two drag queens still sat in the corner of the square piled up on top of each other like oversized fallen toy figurines.

Thousands of people had been camped out all night in the hope of securing a good spot. The mood of the crowd was one of well orderly anticipation, however, as soon as they caught glimpse of Gaston they erupted into chants of ‘Fuck Gaston! Fuck Gaston!’ They fell silent though when Judge Car Key emerged onto the square to address the crowds and ordered the regime to be brought out one by one as their names and charges were read out:

‘Y’all have been very bad, and now bad thing are going to befall y’all… Announced Car Key.

Gaston was to be the first to face Charlie and his battered old rifle.

‘Gaston the Incredible… you have been found guilty of treason, mass murder & embezzlement, and have been sentenced to death by firing squad. Bring his ass over here.’

Gaston was escorted to a post in the middle of the square and hands tied behind him to it. He was then asked if he had anything to say before the sentence was carried out and declared proudly ‘Happy Pride to Allah!’, which had been his cry to the crowds at the very first Gay Day in the capital. Immediately after which Judge Car Key dropped his arm as the signal for Charlie to fire.

Charlie was accompanied by his grandfather, who was acting as his spotter. He dropped down to one knee, adjusted his posture, and for what seemed like an awfully long time there was nothing- no sound. Then there was a sudden crack that reverberated around the square as Charlie fired his first shot into Gaston, who in turn did not appear to respond. Many in the crowd then turned to each other to confirm: ‘Yeah, they’re using 22’s.’

Sensing that this could be a drawn out affair, Charlie quickly worked the bolt action and chambered another round. ‘Crack!’ This time Gaston winced a little and then enquired if there was not a semi-automatic setting. ‘Sorry’ apologized Charlie… ‘You banned all them. This is all we have.’

‘Crack!’ Another shot rang out. This time Gaston whimpered and slumped somewhat; his sparkling turban tumbling from his head and black face taking on a grotesque almost sauced expression. ‘Crack!’ A fourth shot more quickly delivered this time caused Gaston to issue a gurgling sound as he finally slumped lifeless on the pole. The crowd erupted into cheers and gaggles of old women, who had been sat knitting, rushed forward to dip their hankerchiefs in Gaston’s blood. King Donny declared Gaston the Incredible dead, but had Tony Tesla run him over in a Cybertruck just to make sure.

One by one, each of the Gaston government were brought out to face the same fate: the minister who’s grandfather had accidentally been a Nazi; the ministers who had accidentally applauded a Nazi in the palace, and all the other ministers who had sent billion of dollars to the Nazis who operated the laundromat in Khazaria.    

It was a long day. Charlie’s got tired a few times and they had to send for more ammunition at least once, but by dust the task was complete and all the sentences had been carried out. Later that evening Tony Tesla’s rocket set off for Mars with Barry Bollywood and the entire Diet Soviet Party chained to the outside.

King Donny the Tremendous announced a new holiday to commemorate the end of the Gaston regime and Transportation of Barry Bollywood and his Diet Soviet Party to Mars, by declaring that going forward Nov 5th would be known as Rifle & Rocket Day – a day for families to get together and celebrate by building large community bonfires atopped with Turbaned figures tied to rockets, and shooting at black-faced effigies with BB guns to the the cry of ‘Happy Pride to Allah!’

Now Peopleland was a proper country, and the people of Peopleland finally had something to be proud of.

The End

The Rise & Fall of Gaston the Incredible: Part Two

Barry Bollywood

Few people knew it at the time, but Gaston was just one of many young leaders who had been recruited & trained to represent the Reptile Club – an elite group of powerful people who had big ideas about how the future should look for the little people of the world.

He was assigned a mentor – a wise old man who had accidentally worked for the Nazis in World War Two. George, or Emperor Palpatine to his friends, had a lot of money and was looking at spending it on creating the perfect society. Gaston was only too happy to help – he loved big ideas. He also liked the idea of ruling without other people getting in the way with boring stuff like representation.

Gaston’s policy miracles were getting bigger and more sophisticated, and as they did they became more expensive – $2 billion for this; several billion for that; $3 billion to design a new flag for Sudan; $5 billion in pregnancy kits for Afghanistan, and $30 billion in gender neutral artillery shells for Khazaria which was acting as a launderette for the Reptile Club.

In order to pay for all these feats of policy Gaston had to take more and more money from the people by raising taxes. He taxed the people of Peopleland when they earned money; he taxed them when they spent money, and then he taxed them for simply being alive. He called this The Carbon Tax – a tax on anything made out of carbon – people, plants, pets etc. If it moved or breathed, it paid tax to Gaston.

Soon Gaston was taking more from his people than the feudal lords of medieval Europe had taken from their subjects. He taxed them so heavily in order to fund his noble & virtuous projects that he had to instruct his royal state media to ban the use of the word ‘feudal’, and label anyone who continued to use the term a ‘Nazi’.

To keep the illusion of his policy miracles flowing, Gaston was forced to divide the people of Peopleland into those who were ‘good’ and those who were ‘bad’. I was quite simple: those who were good supported his policies, and those that did not were bad.

He told his state funded media and police – the Royal Police of Incredible Justice  – as he had declared them, to start looking for people who were not willing to repeat the lie of his magic and did not share his view of the perfect society. Royal state media then branded these people ‘White Supremacists’.

About this time rumours started circulating that Gaston’s real father was not Pierre the Bastard, but in fact the communist revolutionary, Marco Cubano – the leader of the cane sugar republic of Muy Povertino. Cubano was an even bigger bastard than Pierre the Bastard, and Gaston’s mother was well known for both her anarchic libido and penchant for pantomime villains.   

It also emerged that whilst Gaston had been at Clown school in Montreal teaching children how to light farts, that he’d also been unofficially instructing young women in the art of lovemaking. However, it turns out that Gaston had not checked all their I.D’s carefully enough, and at least one of them had been a child. Ooops! Gaston had paid the family $2 million not to mention it again.

Then just as the dust was settling on these scandals, and less than a year after he had banned black boot polish for being ‘racist’, videos emerged of Gaston as a child covered in boot polish singing the Al Jolson classic ‘Mammy’.

It transpires that even as a young child Gaston could not be left alone with boot polish. He had told his mother that he identified as Saladin – the destroyer of Christendom. To which she had replied ‘That’s nice dear’. Little did she know that as Imperial Emperor, Gaston would spread lies about dead native children that would result in the burning down of 95 churches.

Any one of these scandals would have ended the career of Brian the Boring I, II or even III, but Gaston was special. The old rules did not apply to him because in the new Trans-Islamic Republic of Peopleland, the Royal state media, the police and the judges all served the emperor rather than the people. The Royal state media did not mention these scandals, and if they were forced to, they made excuses for Gaston; the Royal Police of Incredible Justice pretended they were busy tackling transphobia, and all the judges said they were having lunch at the time – paid for by Gaston of course.   

However, despite all this institutional support, the people were now slowly starting to see through Gaston’s sophistry, and some even started booing him when he appeared on the palace balcony to wave at the people. For each one of those who dared to boo him, there were another ten who had grown tired of Gaston’s high tax reign. Gaston had the royal state media brand anyone who dared boo him as ‘Transphobic’.

In the next election Gaston narrowly secured power, and had to seek another party who enjoyed an equally loose relationship with reality in order to form a coalition.

Barry Bollywood – the leader of the Diet-Soviet Party and former Punjabi Ken Doll was the obvious choice. His party sang the same songs of inclusive diversity that Gaston’s party sang, and like Gaston, he also lived in a world where money wasn’t real and actions did not have consequences.

In many ways Barry Bollywood was worse that Gaston. Gaston was a petulant boy king who would throw tantrums at the people and have them thrown in prison when they didn’t love him enough, but Bollywood was a cynical grifter and a fraud. He employed political opportunism to increase his power and wealth whilst pretending to care about the poor people who supported him. He drove expensive sports cars, wore expensive watches, and his wife danced around in Tik-Tok videos wearing gold jewellery whilst the victims of Gaston’s policies lined up for food in the snow.

But as far as Gaston was concerned, Barry Bollywood and his Diet-Soviet Party would re-legitimize Gaston’s waning rule and allow him to continue being divine Imperial Emperor.

Gaston had a meeting with Bollywood in the gold room of the palace, and over a Rolex catalogue asked him what it would take to secure the support of his party. Bollywood told Gaston that all he was looking for was free toothbrushes for everyone in The Trans-Islamic Republic of Peopleland… and maybe a Rolex for his trouble.

‘Free toothbrushes?’ Gaston asked, his voice almost breaking in excitement and disbelief. ‘Free toothbrushes in return for supreme power you say?’ Gaston could not believe his luck. It was like doing business with a child – he felt like the first Conquistador to land in Peru; trading sacks of gold in return for cheap glass beads. Bollywood may have been a cynical political operative, but he clearly had no understanding of the power he had, nor how negotiations worked, and as Gaston noted, was easily distracted by shiny objects. 

Despite this imbalance, Gaston and Bollywood enjoyed a bromance of political opportunism – they were like a couple of Siamese twins conjoined by poor policies and economic illiteracy – neither could rule without the other. Gaston proposed even higher taxes and Barry Bollywood’s Diet Soviet Party rubber stamped it just as long as it made the people more dependent on the state.

Both knew that this model was unsustainable long term unless they could somehow enslave the people fully and convince them that it was in their best interests. Then, as if by magic, in the winter of the following year in a far off land came the opportunity the Reptile Club and their young leaders so desperately sought.