Our intrepid correspondent, Prof. A. Chaos, once again ventures into the War Zone to bring you the latest news from the battle which threatens the peace of the entire household!

Well, after the initial Kitchen Wars was brokered and peace came at long last, it came to pass (no idea what 'it' was, and no clue as to what 'it' wanted to pass) that this was only a fragile peace settlement, for ARMAGEDDON came. That is: Armageddon modernised!

Things were quiet at the start of the week. The snow kept the battle front silent. Then on Thursday (Thing to most of us) the eruption and chaos began!

First the sink unit was up to its neck in dirt. Mortar was flying around indiscriminately, the bricks on the inner kitchen wall couldn't hold it together and were getting smashed up – pulverised by a new weapon named Jack Hammer – most strange, as the two brickies were called Simon and Carl. They had hammers, but were of little use against the fortifications the bricks had put up over the years. The dust was so bad, that any radar was made useless, so precision attacks could not be made and collateral damage was considerable.

The polystyrene ceiling tiles offered no air cover and were shot down within minutes! Most of the kitchen units had got prior notice of the impending melee and had upped and got away into a storage unit miles away.

The crockery though had left a brave rearguard unit:

• 1 dinner plate
• 1 side plate
• 1 coffee mug

The cutlery had also opted out as they had no metal, leaving a rearguard of just:

• 1 knife
• 1 fork
• 1 spoon
• 1 butter knife

The battalions of cleaners that had held ground in the last war under the sink against all odds, cleared off. This was the war of all wars! The cooker, along with the washing machine, got carried away and hid under thin plastic sheeting in the back room, cowering.

By the end of the first day, the kitchen wall had taken a severe pounding. Though irreversibly injured it was holding its own, hoping that the three needed RSJ's (rigid steel joists) would arrive in support. This was in vain, as they knew that on the morrow the siege engines would begin salvo after salvo, advancing the kitchen front line to new boundaries, to meet up with the rear room wall. All the time the dust hung in the air, you could taste the heat of the battle. The very smell of the carnage entering your nostrils. No respite in sight. But, remember! This was Armageddon and not contained to just the kitchen, it had now spread and fighting broke out in every room of the house!

Battles erupted with limited notification. Air vents sounded the alarm but to no avail, before being ripped to pieces. The wall units in the bathroom, not fully trained for conflict, fell with no resistance; brave to the last, but they didn't stand a chance.

This had the makings of a long drawn–out war of attrition and, by all accounts, skirmishes would be the norm for every room. Chaos was going to reign supreme. Any divisions caught up will be in disarray. Who is the enemy? Where do the battle lines lay? As they are spread out throughout the house, they have little chance of being able to rally for a counter attack. This has the feeling of a complete route of the home guard!

Day Two: The relentless artillery pounding the kitchen wall carried on unabated – as the support dropped, so could the ceiling. The RSJ's had not arrived as the dust settled over the battlefield.

A weekend ceasefire came into force.

The attack resumed on the Monday morning, but at least two RSJ's turned up and offered support to the weakened ceiling, with the third RSJ expected Tuesday to assist in shoring up the defences.

This correspondent is bunkered in the front room, in a makeshift camp of cardboard boxes. I am relying on food parcels, and only able to make swift a sortie to the watering hole(the cold water tap), to fill the kettle, when there is a lull in the kitchen area.

Tuesday came early (it usually does), especially if it's before Wednesday. The battle zone – or what some would call a house – was preparing for a long war. Trenches were being dug in the various walls of every room, more searchlight switches also being installed. This reporter evacuated the area for the day, as he was unable to report any accounts due to the whole house being enveloped in a smokescreen (a dust storm of very fine brick & plaster particles). Another casualty in this war was the food units that held on so magnificently last time. They had to retreat from the pantry into the front room near my camp and hidden in cardboard boxes. Even the once mighty fridge fell back from pantry to the relative safety – but dust strewn – backroom, as a decisive battle was raging in the pantry, where shelving was ripped asunder due to the bombardment!

The pantry is now out of action until further notice and, after seven weeks, there still no sign of any return to pre–war status, such was the intensity of the day's battle.

There will be further updates from this correspondent as and when, information comes in. Stay tuned to this war footing channel... WFM 270...

Poetry and Fiction Archive of Professor Animal Chaos

Prof Animal Chaos

16.04.09 Front Page

Back Issue Page