A Very Maggie Christmas: Johnny Two Kebabs, #6

By Johnny Two Kebabs

The strangest episode of Johnny's adventures so far sees him confronted by the ghost of Margaret Thatcher and the mysterious death of one of his acquaintances. His investigations of an esoteric and well-being convention lead him to attend some therapy sessions where he is surprised at the expertise of some of the therapists. But he becomes convinced that one of them is, in fact, a brutal murderer. Will Maggie help or hinder the investigation? Will Johnny be persuaded to embrace Neo-liberal politics? How much does Johnny cost His Majesty's treasury each year? These questions are explored in these latest nail-biting memoirs of Johnny Two Kebabs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Johnny Two Kebabs
• Release date: Feb 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224644872

Johnny Two Kebabs

Who is Johnny Two Kebabs? There has been much speculation in recent years as to whether Johnny Two Kebabs really exists. Is it true that on 15th June 2011 after drinking 13 pints of lager, he polished off two doner kebabs in 1 minute 59 seconds? Is Johnny Two Kebabs just an urban legend? Is the song that was written about him and for which the video appears on the internet merely in the tradition of Irish blarney and storytelling? Now, for the first time Johnny has decided to recount his adventures and the events leading up to the historic achievement to which he owes his fame. The importance of Johnny's memoirs is beyond doubt as they establish him as one of the great ‘thinkers’ of modern times and they grant him the recognition he so justly deserves.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

FAKIRS AND SNAKE CHARMERS TAKING OVER THE STREETS

As Johnny entered ‘The Auld Sod,' his favourite local Irish drinking hole, his acute sense of smell took in the odour. It was the none-too-subtle scent of lager, urine and cheap women’s hairspray tinged with just a hint of vomit. The familiar aroma reassured and cheered him. He could hear vigorous discussion nearby. I’ll tell you who owns and finances the Reader’s Digest, the fucking C.I.A., that’s who. Charlie, the elder of the 'Bolshevik brothers' (two of Johnny’s acquaintances) was in mid-rant. "The average brain-dead Yank thinks that the U.S. is the land of milk and honey, even though he is mercilessly ripped off daily by his own government. The C.I.A. helps to maintain this illusion while justifying American support for right-wing coups in South America and Asia. At least Marxist-Leninist doctrine has some moral standing. Look at what the C.I.A. did to Salvador Allende in Chile, look at what they’ve done in the rest of South and Central America, in the name of 'defending democracy.'

It’s just wrong. It’s only under a dictatorship of the proletariat that justice can be hoped for, yes, justice and equality based on pragmatism." It had all sounded quite impressive until the last part, when he had to stop to belch before he got the word 'pragmatism' out.

It was December 18th, the start of Christmas week. A charity worker for a children’s hospital arrived with a collection box. She approached the group and started shaking the box under their noses. A few of the group gave some coins and one or two even put a note into the box. Charlie just snorted and loudly proclaimed, Surely it’s not our job to finance hospitals, that’s the business of the government, why do we pay taxes? It’s wrong to give to charity; to give money to that type of cause just serves to prolong suffering under a capitalist regime. If we start to finance the health system the government will never do it. I’m against charity for ideological reasons. At this, one of the girls present said, But think of the poor little suffering children in hospital and at Christmas too. Have you no heart?

Christmas, Charlie shouted, and why the hell do we celebrate Christmas? That’s also wrong - it’s another capitalist lie and just an excuse to get people to spend more money to feed greedy corporations.

But what about the little baby Jesus? She said. Charlie snorted again. What about the little baby Jesus? Religion is just the super-strength lager of the masses. We need a socialist state that gives real support to the citizens, not just hope. As Nietzsche said, ‘Hope, in reality, is the worst of all evils as it just prolongs the torments of man’.

But sick little children in hospital need love and hope, she said, with tears in her eyes. Charlie just sneered at her. If the government invested more in the health system and truly cared for the people there would be fewer sick children. He then took a large swig of his northern brown ale as if that settled the issue.

But you told us you will soon be promoting an 'esoteric health and well-being convention' - that’s business, that’s capitalism, she said.

Charlie became even more aggressive as he said in a loud voice. That’s not fuckin' (he was from the north of England and often used terrible language) capitalism, that’s fuckin' survivin'. It's not my fault if I’ve been forced to compromise my morals 'cause of the capitalist system we live in. If I had my way we wouldn’t have a fuckin' prime minister, we’d have a politburo runnin' the country.

So, Johnny thought, there was going to be an 'esoteric health and well-being convention' and it would be organised by Charlie, the elder of the Bolshevik brothers. That was ironic given the amount that he smoked and drank. His brother was still in prison but Charlie was hoping that at a parole hearing in a few months, he might get released. Fat chance of that, Johnny liked to think. Some people might have been surprised at the idea of Charlie organising an esoteric convention, but Johnny wasn’t. He knew the Bolshevik brothers were always involved in some new business venture or 'über-scam' as Johnny called it. Also, they were both devout agnostics. To many people, for a communist to organise this type of convention would seem unusual or unethical, but Johnny knew that the brothers never let 'values' get in the way of personal enrichment.

To hear Charlie talking about the 'convention' one could almost imagine half-naked shamans running through Brixton with Indian fakirs and snake charmers taking over the streets. According to him, famous Indian gurus would be there along with astrologists and other assorted colourful characters.

A brunette suddenly said to Charlie. But I thought you didn’t believe in the occult. If you don’t believe in it, why are you having an esoteric convention - that’s all woo woo joo joo stuff, isn’t it?

People can believe what they want. I'm just providing a service, Charlie replied.

But what would the Soviet Politburo say about this? someone sneered. Charlie started to splutter and then he said, "This type of thing for me is really just entertainment, people can believe what they fuckin' like.''

As it happened, that night Slapper, an old friend of Johnny's, was in the Auld Sod with a friend, a guy she had gone to university with. While Charlie was once again pontificating about socialism, he butted in, You say that the class system in the UK discriminates against the 'worker' but the rules of capitalism also state that anyone can become rich if they work hard and use their personal talents to enrich themselves. Look at this country for all its faults, even the poorest generally get an education.

"An education? They’re brainwashed into becoming what the capitalist society wants them to become. Look at our elitist system, look at our politicians, they’re the products of our public schools, they’re trained above all in rhetoric and intimidation, nothing else. There’s no concept of working in a spirit of cooperation or consensus. It’s just all me, me, me, turbo-capitalism and winner-takes-all