z

z

is what they called me. Sole member of the laziest sleeper cell in the Terrorsphere. In fact, I never carried out a single op, but simply tweeted crude revenges against those who

I thought deserved it. I looked down at my cell. 34 new texts. But all of them said "I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST NIGHT". Oh no. Oh shit. No no no. I rummaged around for my go-bag. Who

can tell until a crisis happens, what is needed in a go-bag. I ditched the back copies of Vogue, the condoms and the lemon vodka. I added quick noodles, gin and Viagra because I'm

getting on a bit, and need a bit of help to get going sometimes. Packed and ready, I reached for the door handle and found that I had completely forgotten where I was headed. Old a

nd none to swift. I plunked down on the easy recliner and grabbed to remote. Now where was I about to go. Maybe if I jog my memory with a bit of channel surfing... Then a voice

y. ALL ABOARD! Hahahahaha! Ai, Ai, Ai!!! Crazy, but that's how it goes. The voice sounded...surprised. "OZZY?" it asked.

"Mursh mothfa eggilittle, eh?" Ozzy Osborne replied. "I have no idea what you just said," the voice replied testily. "Singa leetle widme, go un!" "Me?You want ME to sing with you?"

I looked uncertainly between Ozzy Osbourne and Brad Roberts. I think they wanted me to sing in their trio, and the only song I could think of was "The Bonnie Earl o' Moray".