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Sunday, 4 December 2011


My name is Pretzel Chimney. You've never heard of me because I don't exist yet. No, I'm not a talking foetus or anything ridiculous. I'm a pottery-powered super-hero. As long as I'm holding pottery, I'm gifted with remarkable, and yes, incredible powers, the likes of which you might find in any comic book or even some form of instruction manual. I exist in the future but I'm sending this message back in time in the hope it'll help avert the diabolical tragedy that we haven't been able to avert in the future, which is right now for me, but in the future for you. I think it'd be best if I start at the beginning.

Millions of years in the future, counting the creation of the universe as the starting point, things are looking bad for our planet. Yes, that's right: EARTH. And things aren't looking too bright for it. Our planet, that is! Wars and famines and murders and taxes are rife, long-running chain stores are biting the big one, and politicians have given up kissing babies in public because the instant they do, the rival parties brand them paedophiles and get them lynched. This is not as easy as it sounds, getting politicians to stop kissing babies, because since 2018 babies have been genetically-modified to taste like candy, partly in an effort to maintain a 'new baby' smell, and also in a confused attempt to kill the phrase 'like taking candy from a baby'. Well, you can't do that now, fellas, because the baby IS the candy, and that's called kidnapping.

I work for an international justice cartel called The Unstoppable Inexorable Justice Anti-Crime Squad Group Club Team, which is comprised of various heroes from around the globe, and like all reputable law-enforcement organizations we're funded by the Mafia. We work cases and solve crimes and generally fuck bad guys right up, but unfailingly, our biggest and most dangerous problem is The Terror Gang of Terror Gang, led by the mysterious bastard named Guff Bandwagon. Seriously, he's a real bastard. Once, he entered the Sport's Day at a children's hospice, then won all the races. The UIJACSGCT cross swords with him and the TGOTG on a regular basis, so much so that we've had a public holiday named after us.

There was a brilliant but absolutely bananas scientist called George Armitage who, in 2019, invented a bomb that could give people super-powers. He called it the SUPER-BOMB! (the capitalisation and exclamation point are both his) and his plan was to detonate it over a random city, see what happens. So, he drops it out a plane and it goes off over New York, which by this time had slid a bit further down America due to extreme coastal erosion in Florida. The only trouble is, also by this point, everyone in New York already had super-powers, so he couldn't tell if his experiment had been a success or not. Plus, he'd had to use the prototype SUPER-BOMB! because he didn't have enough money to build more than one. So low were his funds, in fact, that he reportedly had to move back in with his parents. Suffice to say, shame followed George Armitage around like a particularly lusty tramp.

That last fact is only important if you think it is. I'll let you make your own mind up.

Oh yeah. Apparently it's unwise to reveal too much of the future to anyone in the past because it could have dire consequences upon the future. I'm sure you're also probably thinking 'Obviously we don't stop the diabolical tragedy already hinted at because otherwise Pretzel Chimney wouldn't have sent this note'.

To you I say: the tragedy hadn't been averted at the time I wrote this note because I hadn't sent the letter back for you to read yet. However, now you are and soon you'll put a plan into action that means, from the moment after I sent the letter back, my present – your future – everything is a-okay. So thanks for that.

Okay, now I've painted a picture of what is to come you need to pay even more attention to my words. Guff Bandwagon is aided and abetted by a vast consortium of diabolical evildoers, all possessed of insane powers and terrible manners. Chief among them is Panda Nazi, Guff's right-hand man and weapons expert. Some say he is the real brains behind the TGOTG, but others say the real brains is Mental Conundrum, perhaps the only member of the TGOTG who actually has an appearance and powers relevant to his name. Whoever's the real brains, they came up with a scheme to collide the moon into Earth. Yes, I know I took my time getting to the really important information, the bit that has an actual impact on my present, your future, but I like the sound of my own voice, especially when I'm writing it down for others to read.

So there you have it. I don't know how or why exactly the TGOTG want to do this, although TV pundits have stipulated it's because they're supervillains and that's the sort of ridiculous thing supervillains do. All I know is, if the moon hits Earth, it'll cause a level of destruction and horror not seen since Oprah Winfrey married Robert Downey Jr and had a baby with five heads and each head farted sandwiches. I'm telling you, the future is a crazy place. Oh crap, maybe I shouldn't have told you that, because you might decide it's not worth saving. Maybe you're really working for the TGOTG! Maybe, you don't give a shit. Well, you should! Give a shit, that is! Billions of people will die if you don't put a plan into action that'll inexplicably save the future. I actually came up with a plan, but in the interests of protecting the space/time continuum, I can't tell you it. Okay, so I can hint: you have to stop the moon hitting Earth.

Go now, and put something into action! If I can offer any other suggestions, I'll send another note through time and the internet, but mostly through time. And the internet. I understand that this may all sound a) implausible b) insane c) anti-climatic but that's the kind of world you're destined to live in ever since the Great Remake Eruption of 2021, in which movie studios failed spectacularly to create anything new, thereby instilling an inescapable malaise into the general population of Earth once they realised that they already knew how all films ended because they'd already seen all films.

Save us! Save the future! Make like an egg and get cracking! If it looks like you're taking too long to do anything, maybe because a new tweet has appeared on Twitter that you just have to read, or maybe because someone's posted a picture of a cat on Facebook (all things that are extinct in the future) I'll end this note with a SHOUTY BIT LIKE THIS!

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