Wednesday, 22 July 2009

Guest Columnist: The Mekon


We can’t all be super-celebrities, you know. For every Galactus or Ming The Merciless, there are a hundred jobbing threats to humanity like me. We’re not in it for the glory, or because it’s part of some gigantic master plan. Sure, those things can be satisfying when you get them, but generally we’re like the average man on the street. We consider it a good month if we don’t die, and the pay-check gets into the bank on time.

Anyway, I’ve been leader of the Treens for over fifty years now. Back in the glory days, it was all fine. We had all of Venus, and let me tell you, we actually had a budget back then. These days all the money’s dried up. They actually tried to take my Little Floating Saucer™ away, claiming that the power costs were extortionate. I had to get out my proof of disability paperwork and everything. They couldn’t see why having a giant deformed head prevented me from walking. I told them that I couldn’t see why they thought that being dicks prevented me from throwing them into the cold, unforgiving vacuum of space. Score one for me.

You know Dare and Digby are a gay couple, right? Come on, read between the lines.

Anyway, a typical day for me is to get into the office around about 9:00, although if the Venusian Monorail is a late, it doesn’t really matter. Things tend to run to my schedule around here. I’ll get Lackey #46 to stick a pot of coffee on, and we’ll call an update meeting shortly afterwards. The meetings are relatively simple, and are usually just brainstorming sessions about what sort of Dan-Dare-Proof super-weapon we can use this time.

Once I suggested that maybe we should just gather all our forces into one massive army and storm Earth in one huge tank strike. This lead to much shaking of heads around the table, and mutterings of phrases like “Leave Mekonta undefended?” and “Has he never played Risk?”. I tried to brush it off, but the batteries in my Little Floating Saucer™ chose that moment to die, and I crashed to the floor, severely bruising my coccyx.

Anyway, after the agenda for the day is sorted we’ll get on with whatever needs doing. If we’re really busy there can be some late night, but we’re on Flexi-Time, so it’s not all bad. And if it’s really quiet, then I usually entertain myself by practicing my evil glower atop my Little Floating Saucer™.

For lunch we have a canteen, but I can’t lie, the quality of the food isn’t great. That’s because due to the Credit Crunch we seriously had to restrict the budget, and now all the catering staff are Theron slaves. They don’t like us much, so I strongly suspect that there’s a lot of bodily fluids in the lasagne. That’s why I always buy the pre-packaged sandwiches.

We’ll plan a major invasion or attack plan for roughly every six weeks or so, but we’re fairly flexible. You have to be with so many different factors that can be called into play. One time we were planning on opening a black hole right next to Your Feeble Planet Earth, and everything was just about ready to start and...guess what? Sodding power-cut. All of Venus was totally blacked out. That was what led to “Blaming Everything on Dan Dare and Digby” being added to the swear-box list.

The Christmas Party is always a big hit. Last year, I went dressed as Digby, that insufferable fool Dare’s sidekick. I had a big white pompadour hairdo, and said things with a stupid Lancashire accent, like “oooh....Dare...happen we’re in t’trouble wit’ t’Mekon”. Just so that everyone got the message, I also wore a big sparkly dress and high heels, with a sash that read “I am gay for Dan Dare”. I got a few funny looks on the monorail on the way to the office, but I knew it was going to be worth it. When I got there I found out that it wasn’t a fancy dress party after all, but everyone had a good laugh about it.

When I get back home from the office, I just like to kick back and hang out like a regular guy. I like movies, and I’m quite the World of Warcraft fan. I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment, as being Ruler of the Treens of Northern Venus tends to be the main thing in your life, and girls don’t really understand that. I do have a ferret though. His name’s Gil-Galad.

Like I say, I’m just one of a thousand threats to your homes and welfare. We’re the hard working ones that you don’t hear about so often, but that doesn’t mean that we’re not out there.

I can’t lie, though. Every now and again, just a little bit of recognition would be nice. I mean, I am relatively well-know, right? I mean, I’m no Skeletor but I’m more famous than Cy-Kill or Master Control Program. Just once it’d be nice if someone in the street stopped me and asked me for an autograph. I work hard at this stuff, you know. One time I was in the queue at the Post Office, and I heard an old-lady say, “Excuse me, but aren’t you...”, so I turned, ready to give her the full “Foolish Human!” jazz...and it turns out that she’s talking to Patsy Palmer. I know she’s a more successful TV actor than me, but let’s be fair – she’s a ginger actress in her thirties, I’m a gigantic headed green guy sitting on a Little Floating Saucer™. Who would you notice?

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