K is for Komedy

'K is for Komǝdy' Abbreviation: K or ʞ Group Numbers: It's a Punch and Judy show gone very bad. Leadership: Manbagz[1] Goals: Murder. Demolition. The smoking of fine Havana cigars. Recruitment Policy: You need a clown mask. Black suit, white shirt, black leather shoes. Guns, knives, fuel cans, flares, lengths of metal piping and baseballs bats are the weapons of choice. After that tendencies towards anarchy (the bad kind, not mutualism or anything politically effective) and not being squeamish when it comes to killing clones, pigs and sheep are Komedian pre-requisites. Grudge matches are always fun, as are duels and competitive killfests with other PKers... You get the idea. There's no punchline. Contact: Manbagz[2] K is for ʞomǝdy February 3rd - ? 2011 Yeah, I appear to have been clunked hard on the noodle by some sheep or other and fallen into a very slow and deep and ponderous sleep. For months. I guess you could call it a coma. But whatever, I wake, the city's still damp and wet with clones, and Artaud is missing, presumed dead. I go on alone. No signal in this 'burb anyhow. Edgecombe. Strangely quiet. I nailed some cat called Txisko or roundabout: name reminded me of one of those 24/7 chain stores. I wish we had chainsaws in this city... le sigh. So I gave him a baptism with the petrol can, and then found myself out of flares! and NO knife either! Did someone lift it from me in my slumber? Did I accidentally throw it away? ...my old blade, with which I have carved smiles onto the mannequin facespaces of over 900 non-descripts? I must be getting soft. Shot him through the head twice or thrice anyway. He's out of business for a time. April 19th - ? 2010 Contracts all fulfilled in East Boundwood. Going on tour with Aesthetic Judgment: a psychedelic road trip into the depths of Malton, punishing non-descript suburbanites and (un)defacing the landscape. First stop: Millen Hills. Updates to follow. So, Millen Hills was as dull a suburb as they come. Weirdly filled with descripts who can't string a sentence together, but that's not our bag. Live and live, altho' we'll be back with Speak and Spells at Xmas. Shearbank, however, is a hive of facelessness. The South East corner of the Mall was the scene of the first big cull by Artaud (circa 25th April): meanwhile I have been out on the perimeters, stone cold killer immaculate. What's amazing is how many times you can just gun down non-descripts in broad daylight and nobody even blinks an eye. Seriously traumatised neighbourhood. This, ladies and gentlemen, is no country for old clones. April 1st-18th 2010 Pantomime! ...K is now playing 'kill the pig' around the Challenger Crescent PD with an influx of old friends and others in the 'business', coordinating grief attacks, and otherwise purging the suburb of vertebrates sans visage.