Triumphant Cowen Wields Excalibur at Terror Stricken Cabinet, Dáil

Dublin – Under a blazing full moon, the fantasy world of Fianna Fáil collided with reality this week, hurling its inhabitants into a horrifying new dimension that has left many in tears.

Delusional Fianna Fáil dimwits exulted in Cowen seizing Excalibur Tuesday night, little realising what that meant.

Delusional Fianna Fáil dimwits exulted in Cowen seizing Excalibur Tuesday night, little realising what that meant.

On Tuesday night, to the awe of his huddled Fianna Fáil squires, Brian Cowen wondrously pulled Excalibur from its stone bed, thereby asserting his right to be the High King of Fianna Fáil, and with it the minor post of Taoiseach of Ireland.

In the two days since, he has wielded Excalibur mercilessly to smite his enemies, and the enemies of the Irish people – primarily himself.

“This is a vindication of my leadership!” said Cowen triumphantly as he held the sword aloft on Tuesday night. As those who live in reality slowly backed away from the power-crazed maniac wielding the blade, the denizens of Fianna Fáil-world foolishly crowded around their leader, mistakenly believing that he was their knight in polyester armour.

They were soon disabused of the notion as Cowen began lopping heads off. “Take that, Martin!” he said, sending his chief opponent’s head rolling before seizing the Ministry for Foreign Affairs duchy.

“This one I think I’ll keep for myself,” he said magnanimously, pocketing the third-most important post in the kingdom.

As the people of Ireland continued slowly backing away towards the boats for Canada and Australia, the poor delusional souls of Fianna Fáil-world reasoned to themselves that any king has to lop off a head or two to establish his authority.

The Little Green Midgets, a pesky bunch of royal courtiers from a tiny neighbouring fiefdom, agreed that a couple of heads would be fine, even helpfully pointing out the frantically shaking head of Dermot Ahern, Minister for Justice.

Sadly, Ireland's little green midgets don't have the courage and wisdom of Yoda.

Sadly, Ireland's little green midgets don't have the courage and wisdom of Yoda.

“Did I fucking ask you what you fucking thought?” asked King Biffo, advancing threateningly on the Little Green Midgets, to the cackling joy of his unsuspecting Fianna Fáil courtiers. “What business is it of yours whose fucking head I lop off? It’s the Taoiseach’s prerogative!” he thundered, suddenly hacking at the sullen stone head off Mary Harney, Minister for Health.

Curiously, he could only inflict a flesh wound on her teak-tough skin, but the health services are in such a bad state that Harney died of gangrene anyway, ironically vindicating King Biffo’s rash, power-mad decision.

Here’s a list of the fucking heads I’m taking,” Biffo said. “Killeen, go and tell them.”

Minister for Defence Tony Killeen ran forward with a scroll, opened it, and announced: “Minister for Transport Noel Dempsey, Minister for Justice Dermot Ahern, and… um, ah, M-M-Minister for D-D-Defence Tony Killeen,” said Killeen uncertainly, turning to his beloved leader. “But, surely, your Majesty, there must be some mistake…” he stammered as the sword came down on his neck.

Killeen’s hapless attempt to save himself ironically proved that King Biffo might have had a point and Killeen wasn’t the right man to be Minister for Defence.

Terrified, his Fianna Fáil minions suddenly realised that with no Justice, Defence, or Health Service, there was no way to survive Biffo’s insane wrath. On top of that, with no Transport or Foreign Ministry, there was no way to escape, either.

The priceless look on O'Keeffe's decapitated head, just after King Biffo attacked.

The priceless look on O'Keeffe's decapitated head, just after King Biffo attacked.

“And I’ve never liked your fucking head,” Biffo said, as an afterthought lopping the head off Minister for Enterprise and Trade Batt O’Keeffe.

Actually, this turned out to be another relatively good idea, as O’Keeffe has been instrumental in destroying Irish enterprise and trade, so his sudden demise gave Irish interest rates and market shares a timely boost.

Soaked in blood and gore, laughing crazily at all those around him, Cowen howled at the full moon and declared himself the Last of the High Kings.

The surviving Fianna Fáil minions ran gibbering to the people of Ireland, begging for mercy. “We’re sorry, we’re sorry!” they yelped. “We know that we voted him in in 2008, and God help us we even did it again on Tuesday night, but save us, please save us!” they cried tearfully, collapsing in a wailing heap on the plinth outside Leinster House.

For now, Cowen will still have power at least until the next full moon, while the people wait fearfully to see how much more damage he can do with the sword Excalibur so foolishly left in his hands by the delusional half-wits of Fianna Fáil-world.

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