Frauds & Fluids: 大いなる不名誉
The following takes place following: The Gospel of Goblinhouse
Widdlington Post
Date: June 20, 2024
WIFFORM SURGES IN POLLS AMONG ‘YES’ VOTERS The newly formed Widdlington Reform Party — or WIFFORM — led by populist firebrand Harold Goblinhouse of Witherfield, is rapidly gaining traction ahead of the upcoming referendum.
WIFFORM has become the favourite among voters intending to vote YES, particularly appealing to the disenfranchised working class who feel resentful towards the unelected and unaccountable Masters Council. Goblinhouse’s fiery rhetoric and promises to challenge the Masters have struck a chord, positioning WIFFORM as the leading new political force in Widdlington.
However, the referendum polls remain tightly balanced, with YES and NO supporters currently neck and neck. The final outcome remains uncertain as the campaign enters its critical final days.
Whether WIFFORM’s momentum can tip the scales in favour of reform — and propel Goblinhouse and his party into power — is anyone’s guess.
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Master Devlin: “The latest referendum polls are in:
31% intend to vote 'YES' for elections
31% prefer to keep power with the Empress and will vote 'NO'.
11% undecided
27% asked, ‘What’s a referendum?’”
Travers: “Okay…”
Travers pours a whisky, downs it, pours another.
Master Devlin: “Have you decided which side the paper will endorse?”
Travers: “Yes.”
Master Devlin: “Yes as in you’ve decided, or yes as in you’re backing YES?”
Travers: “Both. We’ll support political reform — YES in the referendum — to reform the government in line with the Empress’s wishes."
Master Devlin: “Very good.”
Travers downs the whisky and refills his glass.
Master Devlin: “Are you alright, Travers?”
Travers: “I’ll be fine. Just… a little mentally scarred, is all... Delayed reaction, I guess.”
Master Devlin: “Scarred from what?”
Travers: “You know… that thing the Co-Editor made me do the other day.”
Master Devlin shudders.
Master Devlin: “I thought we agreed never to speak of that again?”
Travers: “You asked.”
Master Devlin: “Then I withdraw the question.”
Travers knocks back another drink as Ermintrude enters, placing his morning paper in front of him. Travers nods thanks, flips straight to page 3, and stares intently at the woman pictured.
Master Devlin: “Helen? The cleaner?”
Travers: “That’s right. Told you I’d get her.”
Master Devlin: “I must admit, I didn’t see it happening. I assumed it was just more of your bluster.”
Travers: “Took a bit of extra persuasion, but Travers doesn’t shy away from a challenge.”
Master Devlin: “But… why? She’s not exactly your usual type.”
Travers: “I’m reformed. And we’re not ageist here, Master Devlin. Besides—look at those milkers! You know I’ve always appreciated a good milf. She just needed a little help bringing it out from under that frumpy cleaner exterior. Our makeup girl did a hell of a job.”
Master Devlin: “…I suppose?”
Travers: “That reminds me… We should track down former Councilwoman Katherine Crampton. I wonder if she’d do a topless shoot… Never met her, but I do remember watching her undress when we had those spy cameras in every home—though maybe best leave that last bit out. Hell of a pair on her, though!”
Master Devlin: “Yes… 😒 I try to forget you were illegally spying on the whole town. Though if she’s a former councilwoman, she probably still has an image to uphold. Why assume everyone wants to do a topless shoot?”
Travers: “I’m an optimist, Master Devlin. I believe all these women will pose topless for us because I choose to. And Travers is pretty good at persuading them. Helen was a hard sell with her conservative values, motherly nature, and low self-image… But if Travers can get Helen, he can get anyone.
Besides, it’s an honour to be a Chronicle girl. I just want to give them the opportunity while I can. Life’s short and unpredictable — especially here in Widdlington. Look at Mrs. Cumberdale, Ed rest her soul. One minute you’re head of the accounts department with the world ahead of you… next minute, you’re dinosaur chow. Shame. She would’ve made a great Chronicle MILF.”
Master Devlin: “Uh huh… Well then, how about Shawna, formerly of HR? I’m sure she could use the work.”
Travers: “Shawna is definitely not Travers’ type. An obese liberal who’d at best be an embarrassing one-night slampig after ten pints. But thank you for reminding me — getting rid of the HR department was one of Travers’ finest moments on this job.”
Finished with Helen, Travers flips straight to page 7 to ogle the next girl.
A colourful shimmer of light appears by the door, and Dr. Fraser materialises out of thin air.
Travers: "Ah, Dr. Fraser. Welcome to The Chronicle."
Larry: "Hello, Mr. Travers. I hear you’ve been contracting exotic venereal diseases again?"
Travers: "All in the service of the editor, I assure you."
Larry: "Right... Oh, hey, Master Devlin."
Master Devlin: "Larry, how are you?"
Larry: "Fine, thank you. Busy… I meant to be here half an hour ago, but interdimensional traffic is a nightmare these days."
Larry (to Travers): "So, what kind of diseases do you have now?"
Master Devlin: "I think he might have another case of gypsy syphilis."
Larry: "Oh dear… Well, this should help. It’s a new drug from Japan—just licensed for use in the UK."
Travers: "You forgetting something? We’re not in the UK anymore, Doc. One of my proudest achievements."
Larry: "Well, I won’t say anything if you don’t..."
Larry floats over Travers’ head and shakes some magical dust on him, just like Mr. Sparkaru.
Travers sneezes and his moustache spins.
Travers: "I feel better already..."
Larry: "Yes, well, since you’ve had it before, you should clear it easier this time."
Travers's eyes grow larger and brighter. Suddenly, they all look anime-like.
Master Devlin: "Oh dear… is that supposed to happen?"
Larry: "Hmmm. It's pretty rare but a known side effect. About 1 in 10,000, I believe."
Master Devlin: "Will it wear off?"
Larry: "It should settle down in a few hours. A day tops. If it doesn’t, give me a call. But I wouldn’t worry about it."
Master Devlin: "Ahh. It’s a bit disturbing looking."
Travers starts speaking Japanese.
Larry: "No one can understand you right now, Jack. You’re speaking Japanese..."
Travers looks frustrated and mutters to himself.
Ignoring Travers, Master Devlin turns back to Larry.
Master Devlin: "So, how is Frakes doing? I heard he had a triple heart bypass."
Larry: "He’s doing well. I dropped in on him this morning. Had to send Kazuhira Miller away, though — he showed up with a dozen chemical burgers. Apparently, they agreed only a dozen on health grounds, but I insisted on none. Frakes gave me an earful — if I had ears..."
Larry gestures toward the TV.
Larry: "Isn't that..."
On the screen is a goblin speaking on stage, dressed like an early 20th-century chimney sweep, complete with a cap and stubble.
Travers grabs the remote and turns up the volume...
Goblintime1976: "My name’s Mr. Goblintime. Actually, it’s Goblintime1976 — not a lot of people know that... Anyway, I’m a proper Cockney geezer from Landon Town — or at least I used to be, before the Masters showed up an' ruined it...
They set up shop in our neighbourhood back in the day, yeah, and we locals were welcoming to them and all that. But before long, they started taking the piss... taking advantage of our generosity, pushing it too far, ya know what I mean?
Then they wormed their purple snouts into the highest echelons of Westminster, and suddenly all the taxes went up, but we didn’t get nuffink in return... started bleeding us dry. We got poorer, they got richer.
Then the Masters wanted cheap labour, but instead of paying us locals a proper living wage, yeah, they started importing all these facking foreigners — Australopithecus, Arabs, Africans and such. I got nuffink against them in their own countries, but their place isn’t here. We’re not culturally compatible, know what I mean?
Good mate of mine, yeah, young goblin fella like me, ‘ad ‘is ‘ead ripped off by some facking Kenyan savage as ‘e walked down Portobello Road. His carcass was used to make some sort of witch doctor soup or sumfink... Bang out of order, it was.
Of course, people like us — locals, yeah, we weren’t 'avin' it, but the Masters used their influence to get new laws so we couldn’t even criticise the government’s policy of mass migration.
Sooner or later, we all left. Went to Essex and that. You can see the state of Landon now on the telly, can’t you? It’s well out of order.
Anyway, I moved here to this fine borough of Widdecombe. It reminds me of home, but I can see it’s beginning to happen here now too... The good people of Witherfield are getting hit the hardest, but they’re just the canaries in the coal mine. Sooner or later, it’ll be the whole town. Mark my words.
That’s why I’m voting YES in the referendum. Then when we get that sorted, I'm voting for Mr. Goblinhouse and the Wifform party... I believe he can clean up this town before it’s too late — but he needs your support. Any fink you can give to help with the cost of campaigning would be much appreciated... Join the resistance. Thank you."
Master Devlin: “Well, like every other lousy politician, he never actually said what he’s going to do. Just a load of waffle. I should really go deal with him...”
Travers: “大いなる不名誉”
Master Devlin: “Larry, can’t you fix Travers? I feel like I’m developing epilepsy just by looking at him.”
Larry: “Well... You could try squeezing the toxins out of him. Twist him like a wet rag.”
Master Devlin: “Gladly.”
The Master grabs Travers and twists him tightly. Colorful fluids pour onto the floor. Travers vomits. 🤮
Larry sniffs the fluid and vomit.
Larry: “Uh-huh, as I suspected.”
Master Devlin: “What is it?”
Larry: “Pufferfish venom.”
Master Devlin: “Oh dear.”
Larry: “Lethal to humans, but not to goblins, thankfully.”
Master Devlin: “Where did that come from? Are the Japanese putting their excess fugu in this stuff?”
Larry: “Not sure. You should probably ask them. All I know is his body seemed to produce it after I administered the treatment. It’s magical in nature, so these things can be tricky. Maybe he has trace amounts that got multiplied by the medication. He used to be married to the Empress, right? Perhaps she eats a lot of fugu and passed it on... I dunno.”
Master Devlin: “I don’t think so, all she ever cooked was endless chicken tenders. Doubt she was able to prepare fugu.”
Larry: “Look, he’s starting to look a little less kawaii now, anyway. Should probably get someone to clean that floor though. That stuff could still be deadly to humans.”
Master Devlin: (shouting) "HELEN! We have a contaminated floor that needs cleaning! Anyway, as you know, Travers has no limits to how low he can stoop. The amount of drugs and toxins he likely consumes during his escapades — he’s probably been exposed to all sorts. Statistically, some fugu toxin might have slipped in there. We have no way of knowing."
Larry: "I suppose."
Helen walks in.
Helen: "Master Devlin, as I’ve told Mr. Travers before, I don’t do contaminated cleanups."
Master Devlin hands her some cash.
Master Devlin: "I know, but please — make this go away."
Helen: "Very well. What on earth is this anyway?"
Master Devlin: "Toxic pufferfish vomit."
Helen: "..."
Helen mutters to herself as she cleans it up and leaves.
Master Devlin: "Travers, are you alright?"
Travers: "Hrmm... very disrespectfuru... speaks out of turn... brings great dishonour..."
Master Devlin: "Oh dear."
Larry: "He seems to be improving. At least it’s English now, sort of."
Master Devlin: "I forget — what exactly was this whole exercise for? STDs?"
Larry: "Yes. Various."
Master Devlin: "Could it be some kind of Japanese syphilis?"
Larry: "I suppose. It’s hard to say. But I was under the impression he was indulging in pleasures of the flesh with various immigrant women from the third world as part of some sort of prank."
Master Devlin: "Travers has a guilty pleasure of engaging in snu snu with large Amazonian women."
Larry: "Oh? Well fortunately, he seems to only engage in receiving so-called oil changes, so the chances of contracting HIV are extremely low. But who knows what else he may have contracted."
Master Devlin: "Travers does get himself so intoxicated that he doesn’t know what he is doing."
Larry: "I thought he was on the wagon... 'reformed.' That’s what I’d heard."
Master Devlin: "Not really. That’s what he tells everyone to get himself out of trouble."
Larry: "Well, at least he isn’t killing people. One cannot say the same about Mr. Waldo."
Travers: "Mmhmm, that’s right... national treasure. Good name... Harris Travers... Good name..."
Master Devlin: "Travers, can you hear me?"
Travers: "Burt Lancaster says he’s got one but I don’t believe him. Stadiums and... quarries..."
Master Devlin: "For God’s sake, Doc. You got to help him. He’s now involuntarily quoting cherished TV shows!"
Larry: "There isn’t anything more I can do. We just have to wait it out. Should be better in a few hours, although I suspect the random quotes are remnants of Widdle Frunkuts’ fragmented neural net."
Master Devlin: "Oh yeah... I forgot about that. Well... um... care for a glass of Scotch? Travers keeps the good stuff around here somewhere."
Larry: "Thank you, but I can’t drink Scotch — or any fluids. I don’t have a stomach, what with being a floating wooden mask and all."
Master Devlin: "Ah yes, of course."
Larry: "Actually, I have other house calls to make, so I’ll have to take my leave. Goodbye!"
Master Devlin: "Goodbye, Doctor."
Ermintrude: "Mr. Travers, your 1pm is here... Oh dear, what’s the matter with him? He looks very sick."
Master Devlin: "Yes, he's a little under the weather but should be fine soon enough. Though I would cancel his 1pm. Unless I can take it?"
Ermintrude: "I mean... you could, but... umm."
The Master looks toward reception and sees a trashy woman standing there in a mini skirt and a fake fur coat.
Master Devlin: "Urrhh, God no. Never mind. Cancel the 1pm."
Ermintrude: "And his 2pm and 3pm?"
Master Devlin: "Cancel those too."
Ermintrude: "Yes, sir."
Travers grumbles.
Travers: "Out... of turn. Spoken..."
He drifts off, looking woozy.
Master Devlin: "Send them all away, Ermintrude. It’s those girls out there and his complete inability to resist temptation that’s caused this."
Dr. Shawn walks in.
Dr. Shawn: "Goodness, what’s happened to him?"
Master Devlin: "Fugu syphilis or something. I don’t know. Sexually transmitted anyway. Larry gave him some medicine which is taking a long time to wear off. Linda, would you mind looking after Travers for a while? I need to go into town."
Dr. Shawn: "Where are you going?"
Master Devlin: "I need to see a certain aspiring MP about his election campaign rally."
Dr. Shawn: "Widdle Frunkut’s Goblinhouse routine?"
Master Devlin: "Yes... he tries to pull some kind of scam every election — obscene donations, election fraud, stealing identities, whatever."
Travers urinates in his chair.
Master Devlin: "Oh dear... Helen!"
Helen walks in.
Helen: "Should I even ask?"
Master Devlin hands her some cash.
Master Devlin: "Helen, seeing that Mr. Travers is incapacitated, I will authorize you a wage increase. Yes, it will royally annoy him, but I think it’s fair considering the amount of fluids you are required to clean up daily. Anyway, I’ll be off. I have matters to attend to."
The Waldoverse continues in Goblinhouse: Unmasked