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The Adventures of
Fucko the Clown

[Stuff magazine, UK edition, 1998]

MEET FUCKO the Clown: statesman, strategist, captain of industry. Throughout history, when destiny comes knocking, Fucko will be there to make the difficult decisions that a lesser man would get right.

1980, and Fucko chairs the business meeting where PC manufacturers IBM cut a deal with Bill Gates. Result: IBM, the world's biggest corporation, loses most of its business, while Bill Gates's Microsoft company makes him the richest man on the planet.

FUCKO: “Bill, we at IBM would like you to take this opportunity to buy the copyright on a dodgy computer operating system dirt cheap from some guys who already work for us. Then we want you tart it up a bit, rename it MS-DOS, license it back to us so it becomes the industry standard, and make a fortune selling it to our competitors so they can undercut us. A tough but fair deal. Are you in?”
BILL: “Okey-doke.”
FUCKO: “Great! Have a balloon.”

STAND BACK Napoleon, it's Fucko The Clown - brilliant thinker and leader of men. When lives hang in the balance, Fucko will be there to knock over the scales.


1854, and John Bull has sailed to the Crimea to tell the Russian Bear: “Thus far and no further, Boris.” Fucko is commanding the British forces at the Battle of Balaclava, high above the action on a hilly vantage point.

FUCKO: “I say, Airey, those dashed Russkies are trying to pull our captured guns away. Send a message to old Lucan, will you? Something like, ‘Cavalry to advance rapidly to front - try to prevent Russians carrying away guns.’”
GENERAL AIREY: “Shouldn't we say which guns, General Fucko, sir? And which Russians? He hasn't got quite the view of proceedings that we've got up here, what?”
FUCKO: “Let him work it out, man. Great thumping blazes, he's not going to send the Light Brigade charging straight into the enemy guns. That would mean suicide for the poor devils.”
GENERAL AIREY: “Theirs not to reason why, sir.”
FUCKO: “Capital! Stout feller. Have a balloon.”

INTO THE air raid shelters, it's Fucko the Clown - world-beating strategist and prescient guru. When there comes a tide in the affairs of men, he'll be building a sandcastle on the beach

1938: The powers of Europe have gathered at Munich to sort out Adolf Hitler. Fucko is chief advisor to British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain.

HITLER: “Just giff me half of Czechoslovakia and I vill not invade anyvere else, for zer time being. I'm ein reasonable man. Goebbels! Vy are zese cupcakes not on on zer human skin doilies?”
FUCKO: “I believe we can trust Mr Hitler to keep his word. Nobody who so resembles that amusing rapscallion Charlie Chaplin could possibly be a liar and a lunatic. I say we let him have the Sudetenland. He'll go away happy and that'll be the last we hear of him.”
[Back in Blighty the next day]
CHAMBERLAIN: “I have in my hand a piece of paper. . . Herr Hitler has given me his word. . . peace in our time. . . and in my other hand, I have a balloon.”

FLOAT LIKE a butterball, sting like a bee, it's Fucko the Clown - the man who doesn't know the meaning of the word “incompetent”. Or “idiot”, for that matter.

1956, and deep in the jungle of Brazil, the British scientist Warwick Kerr is showing a government inspector around his experimental bee farm.

KERR: “. . . you see, Senhor Coitarporco, the African bee, although larger and more aggressive, gives more and better honey than the native bee. That is why I have bred the two to create my Super Bee. As long as these special wire meshes cover the hives, the queen cannot escape and found new colonies. That would be a disaster. Within forty years hordes of killer bees would sweep up the North American continent laying waste to all in their path. Ah, meet my foreman, Senhor Fucko Os Arlequim.”
FUCKO: “Hi, boss. I took away all those wire meshes you left on the hives. Mãe de Deus, what were you thinking? Only the worker bees could get in and out.”
[Long silence]
KERR: “Bollocks.”
FUCKO: “I love working here! Have a balloon.”

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