King of Zombie Heath

Day 34 - Army gone AWOL. World gone crazy.

I've missed you, dear diary. My absence was due to forces beyond my control. Oberst Sanders (who's both a Nazi and a fake - I'll explain later) confiscated all the pens and pencils in case we did ourselves (or anybody else) harm. So, how come I'm writing this, you ask? Well, it's a long story and, if I'm honest, I must admit I don't know the half of it. Suffice to say, the army skedaddled two days ago and hasn't come back.

Action Man's still around. So is the kid with the monkey face. Let's call him Chimp. Plus one other guy I haven't seen yet and a ginger-haired mini Xena-type with freckles and a nasty attitude. They're all scared shitless. Action Man's putting on a brave face (his only face), but Chimp's hysterical, gibbering like a toddler that lost its mum in the supermarket. My Bad's given him a couple of Ativan to calm him down. He's sitting on the sofa now being cuddled by Tubbs.

This is what I've managed to piece together so far.

Firstly, Colonel Sanders' sorry band of frightened kids was all that was left of the mighty 1st, 2nd (full-time) and 4th (weekend warriors) battalions of the Duke of Lancaster's regiment. As far as I can make out, the actual soldiers, i.e. the other two thousand eight hundred or so, are all AWOL. Now, if I was even mildly patriotic, or gave a monkey's burp for the state of our armed forces, that might worry me. However, since joining up these days seems to entail drinking, fighting, getting knuckle tattoos, bombing civilians and leaving large parts of one's body in countries no one in their right mind would ever want to go to, it doesn't.

Why anyone would want to sign up in the first place is beyond me. Digging holes in the sand is only fun until you're about five, then it just gets in your undies and chaffs your groin. I just don't get how kids can get teary eyed at the sound of the National Anthem and actually want to donate an arm or a leg to Queen and country. Eddie though, he's a different kettle of fish. He doesn't get teary eyed when someone starts howling "God save...", and I know for a fact he doesn't particularly want to lose any chunks of himself, but he did try to sign up twice under different names, lured by the idea of being paid to maim people he didn't know. He's a romantic at heart, and from the moment he saw: "Join the army! Travel the world. Meet lots of exotic people... and kill them" on a T-shirt, he was sold. Sadly, the army wasn't buying. Although the toffee-nosed officer that interviewed him had singled him out for officer training, the psychiatric tests proved to be something of a stumbling block... I think he's still bitter. He doesn't talk about it much. He doesn't cope well with rejection.

I on the other hand have no military aspirations whatsoever. Fine, the abusing Arab prisoners bit sounds enticing, especially since I have a pathological dislike for sweaty men with bushy black mustaches and bad breath, and sniping at women and children could be fun in the evenings when you've watched all the MOD's porn videos and there's nothing better to do, but I doubt it's fun enough to compensate waking up at 5 a.m. in the morning to scrub toilet bowls with toothbrushes and stomp around in the rain carrying a rifle over your head whilst being slapped in the face and told you're a pussy. No thank you. I hate being told what other people think I am.

I digress. Second, Oberst Sanders, the old faker, isn't a colonel. I confess the white goatee threw me. He's only a major. Clearly missed the fast-track. He's also a Nazi that thinks he can push people around lock them up in their own home just because he carries a gun and works for the Queen.

Third, he and his motley crew didn't come to look after us. I'm beginning to think we've been abandonned. Major Sanders and Co. are here because we've got fifteen foot high walls and state of the art security. Bunch of cowards. What are they scared of? Coughs and runny noses? A little looting? A few bored yobs scrapping in the snow? God help us when the Chinese decide China's too small if this bunch is our Thin Red Line.

Fourth, Major Sanders galloped off into the sunset with nearly all his remaining troops in answer to a call from the Household Cavalry. He left three squaddies and the feisty freckled fighter to keep an eye on us. Or to open the gates for him when he gets back, cos none of us will do it. That's if he gets back. Needless to say, as in all the best movies, the fool hasn't been heard of since. I'm surprised a man like him even made it to corporal.

Fifth, according to My Bad the squaddies are right to be terrified because the country's being taken over by the Angel Dusters Action Man mentioned. I laughed when she told me that, and said I didn't know why she was so worried, Angel Dusters didn't sound too bad at all. Much better than TV Evangelists or the Taliban which, as they years pass, seems more more and likely. She said that was because I'd never met an Angel Duster and explained what they were.

Apparently, the flu has adverse side effects on those it doesn't kill, namely altering their brain chemistry and inducing increased metabolism and body temperature (hence all the fnaked rolicking on the telly), extreme agitation, intoxication, impaired balance, numbness, slurred speech, bloodshot eyes, insomnia and reduced need for sleep, confusion, paranoia, aggressive behaviour, homicidal ideas, delusions, hallucinations and a host of other unpleasant and anti-social behaviours. Summarising, it's like snorting a bucket of PCP (Angel Dust) and Bath Salts: You become highly irrational and immune to pain and make unprovoked and uncontrolled attacks on others including, but not limited to, trying to bite their faces off. All while Daddy-dancing in the noddy to music only you can hear.

I didn't believe that until she took out her smartphone and showed me a video of a naked Angel Duster chewing some poor dude's nose off in Miami. The guy's manic, goggle-eyed stare, his drunken stumbling gait and aggressive, flailing arms did look a little disconcerting, but I've seen worse and I told her.

Yes, she said. I'm aware of your history, so I'm sure you have. Thing is - she jabbed the phone with a finger - this was back when things were normal. One guy. Not even hungry. Right now - she jabbed the finger at the window - the Angel Dusters out there make this guy look sane, and they haven't eaten since the supermarkets ran out of food.

I wasn't sure what to say, except that it was a good job were in here and not out there.