This is for Adam The American, who wanted a story.... bless.





Prince Adam's Journal, 9th August

My search ended last night. Everything happened as the prophecies predicted. It took a full moon to give the thing its power, and only with all my strength could I take that power away again. The thing had, as I expected, possessed the spirit of a young male, a British backpacker called Vonny. He had been unaware of this until I confronted him with cold, hard evidence. The evidence of the dead, the bodies of backpackers littered in his wake as macabre testament to his madness. Still then he didn't want to believe but his counterpart, a strange character called Mak, helped me to convince him.

Time was against us so we had to act quickly. Night was falling by the time we had sharpened the cut-throat razor and found some Gillette Sensor Excel Gel (Vonny preferring this to ordinary foam). With Mak's help I removed the sleeping beast as I would an infant from the womb (not that this is the sort of thing I often do) and took it far from them.

For hours into the night I rode, until I found consecrated ground. These Chinese are a godless people, but even they have an American Embassy and it was into this rich, free, democratic soil that I buried the evil handlebar moustache.

I buried it deep and then sang my fair nation's national anthem.

I buried it deep.

But... it... came..... back.


Vonny's Journal, 10th August

As I woke that morning it was as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes, a dark veil of black velvet. I felt refreshed, alive like I hadn't felt for weeks. When Prince Adam explained to me what had happened, that I had been possessed by my own handlebar moustache I felt sickened to my very core. That this evil would touch my life, and take the lives of those around me is a cross I fear I shall be bearing until the end of my days.

I was trying to think about how to rebuild my life when Prince Adam burst into my room, his face ashen, aghast.

"It's gone", said he. "It has risen again to continue its theatre of destruction".

I rose from my bed. "Then we will follow", said I. "And we will end this once and for all".


Mak's Journal, 12th August

Journal? Isn't that just a fancy name for Diary? Sod that................

Oh, alright then... This Prince Adam is a strange character. I asked him yesterday about a hypothetical situation. I asked him to imagine meeting a woman who was beautiful in almost every way possible - great body, hair, face, personality, all that jazz, but had one minor flaw, and that flaw was that instead of one of her eyes she had a spider's egg sac, and every five minutes a little baby spider ran down her face leaving a silver thread like a tear... would he still sleep with her?

He answered no. Clearly, he has many hidden prejudices. I must be watchful.


Prince Adam's Journal, 14th August

We are on the trail of the beast. Following it has been simply a case of following the path of destruction. As we work our way through northern China it becomes one scene of horror after another. In one village, two hundred people were killed by what survivors called "A Big, Ginger Tasche". In another town, barely three escaped with their lives when "Ginger Death Visited".

My surmise seems accurate - the beast is making its way back to Europe.... Dear God! Think of the destruction a rogue handlebar moustache could do in that fair continent. As one, the Vikings would reappear, this time on motorbikes, whilst Germans would smother the continent with towels. And, as the people were reeling from this, ABBA would reform and the fate of the world would be sealed, the whole time people who lived with their parents at thirty and liked trains would start to be considered 'cool'.

We must succeed. Not for ourselves but for our children and theirs.

Vonny's Journal, 15th August

This destruction is almost too much to bear. That my simple wish for a fine piece of facial accessory should lead to so much horror is.... I must put it out of my mind. I must find inner resolve.

I must finish what I have begun.


Mak's Journal, 16th August

So then I asked him about this girl, beautiful in every possible way apart from one - and that was that she'd had her face bitten off by a great white shark, and she wore a mask like Jason's one out of Friday the 13th (not the first one, obviously - don't write in). And in the crevice of her mask where her face used to be she keeps a small Bonsai Tree in a pot. And she keeps lifting the mask to show people the tree, only it's dead as it doesn't get any light but she doesn't know that so you have to humour her and say "That's a nice Bonsai Tree" all the time... would he sleep with her then?

He still answered in the negative. In an effort to understand what drives this man who would be moustache killer, I asked him what if he got drunk and slept with her anyway, and then five years later she tracked him down to introduce him to his son - who due to a rare genetic radioactive problem had a Bonsai Tree for a head and a stillborn baby great white shark for a foot - could he love this child as his own? He said no.

Truly Nietzsche was right, those who go to fight monsters should take care that they do not become monsters themselves.

For when you gaze into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.


Prince Adam's Journal, 20th August

We tracked the beast and cornered it in a hotel room in Beijing. This was when I produced my special weapon - An Arnold Schwarzenegger Doll, complete with one-liners from his great films. For it is written that the handlebar moustache shall only be worn by the most hammy of cinema villains, and it is only with wooden one-liners by one who's heart is true and mind is blank that can best it.

The handlebar moustache was sitting on the bed, seeming to be in a doze after having just eaten three Belgian travelers. I stepped forward, Vonny flanking me to the left and Mak to the right. I must confess that if the moustache should eat Mak it wouldn't be the worst thing - his conversation vexes and scares me in equal measures.

I pulled back the draw string at the back of my doll, whispered a silent prayer, and released it.

"It's time to take out the trash!" My doll declared in dull tones.

The handlebar moustache reeled as if hit a physical blow. Leaping forward I pulled the string again. "I eat Green Berets for breakfast!" it declared.

The moustache reeled again, flitting left and right, looking for a place to run.

"Let off some steam!" The doll mumbled, and then again and again I pulled back the string, the moustache reeling with every quip: "You're not sending me to the cooler", "I guess this must be what they call poetic justice", "You're fired", "Consider this a divorce", "If it bleeds, we can kill it".

And then disaster - the string broke away in my hand. I damned the day I bought a product from a Chinese market stall and stepped away.

The moustache, clearly wounded, regained it's composure and regarded me coolly.

"I've got an idea", Mak said, reaching into his bag and producing a small, green glass phial which he threw at the moustache.

"Holy water?" I asked, daring to hope that this lunatic had brought something useful to the party.

"No", Mak said as the phial burst apart showering the moustache with clear, bubbling liquid. The moustache writhed with pain, and for a few moments we could hear the beast scream before it started to break apart into it's component ginger hairs, which in turn burnt up before our eyes.

In a moment there was nothing but a singed bedspread and the smell of burnt hair.

"What in God's earth was that stuff?" I asked, dumfounded. "If not holy water then what beastly demonic mixture can have such an effect?"

"Perrier Water", Mak replied.

"What? You mean mineral water?"

"That's right", Mak said. "The height of middle class chic in the eighties... it embodied progress, pretension and carbonation in equal measures - the antithesis of a handlebar moustache if you will".

"Truly fortune was with us this day", Vonny said. "And the evil is vanquished".

"Don't forget my doll though!" I said. "My Schwarzenegger doll helped a lot!"

"Yes", Mak agreed. "We can only hope that every time Europe is in trouble, there's a right-wing Austrian immigrant nearby to help us out of it".

We all laughed heartily, rubbing our stomachs in an exaggerated manner.

The End