Slow Fish’N’Chips and a fast Fry

A cabal meets at a secret, deeply wooded place in a hostile hostelry to plot the downfall of the West.

Their intent is lethal and they couldn’t care about the body count.

Banker blood and oligarch guts will be spilled.

The slobs have tumbled to the age old scam.

Far away a remote submersed facility comes slowly up to launch depth.

The evil schemers order another round of drinks to celebrate their coming victory over the money suckers.

Food to follow.

It takes the slow bar staff just about 35 mins to deliver the fish and chips. The chef is smoking an illegal open air fag when out of the sky falls a star.

Do not plot in Milton Keynes.

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