The year is 2021 AD. Bharat is almost entirely under the sway of Hirsutus Grandus and his seniormost legionary Animus Terriblus. Well not entirely ____ one small village of indomitable Bongs, under Chief Dominatrix, still holds out.

The Chief is in a foul mood these days. No gadding about in rubber thongs anymore since she bashed her toe on what appeared to be a menhir (but which, she suggests darkly, was Animus Terriblus himself in disguise), Hirsutus Grandus’ forces are closing in, her head throbs from all the Sanskrit verses that the blasted Braxtonhix made her memorise and to top it all, that abomination of a man keeps hanging around the village Clubhouse with all manner of riff-raff, posing and giving interviews. If she has told him once, she has told him a thousand times that the place is riddled with Animus Terriblus’ spies. But does he listen?  What a waste of perfectly good potion on the man.

Clearly, she herself will need to get things back under control. She must seek Etashetamix’s  counsel but first, some art to calm those nerves. Like the famous Andywarholix, Chief Dominatrix believes that art is something you can get away with. So she plants herself in the village square, at the foot of the Maha Menhir and immerses herself in art. The villagers keep their distance, they know better than to disturb their Chief when she’s feeling arty. Hours pass. And then suddenly, an eureka moment. By Toutatis! What a perfect idea to crush Hirsutus Grandus. Dominatrix leaps up, stubbed toe and all, scattering paint and creating a dozen masterpieces in the process. Borderlinepsychotix rushes in. Is all well with the Chief? Does she need fresh paint? An easel or two perhaps? Or should he call for Goromhorlix to revive her? Dominatrix gives him a withering look and he wilts and melts away. Dominatrix’s eyes gleam at the thought of the havoc she’s about to wreak. To think that the perfect weapon was there all along, right under their noses.

Perfect Weapon in the meantime was filing her nails in the sun and looking bored, oblivious to the fact that fate had other plans for her. Now if this were a Bengauli serial, Jachhetailikhish muses, there would be ominous music at this point, leaving the audience in no doubt that an important character was about to be introduced and that much drama was afoot. But alas, your poor scribe has only words (she permits herself the occasional exclamation mark and uppercase when feeling particularly self-indulgent). So dear reader, show some initiative, be atmanirbhar, and call up your own inner music. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you ____ Tumpashona, aka the Perfect Weapon.

Gather around dear reader, it is time for Perfect Weapon’s backstory. Tumpashona is no hick. She’s been around, she’s seen the world. The villagers find her a little peculiar. It is rumoured that she has a strange fascination for forwards and futures, hedges and swaps, whatever those may be. Did I say ‘a little peculiar’? ‘Most odd’ would describe her better. One of her famous oddities is that she can speak Ingliss, that strange patois of the barbarians, which she has picked up in the course of her travels. Tumpashona can let fly in Ingliss at great length and greater speed. She accompanies this with vigorous head-nodding and finger-wagging. The effect on the audience is devastating. As the hard consonants rain down on them, people have been known to faint away or get an attack of the heebie-jeebies. Once she starts, she’s unstoppable. Chief Dominatrix can’t quite get a hang of what Tumpashona says but she has it on good authority that Tumpa is very very good. The good authority in question is Terriblyprolix, the man who used to ask questions for a living and has now been tasked with finding a few answers. Terriblyprolix is also proficient in Ingliss but cannot find anyone in the village to practise it on, especially since Tumpa discourages conversation. 

Chief Dominatrix summons an emergency meeting of the village elders. Terriblyprolix, Borderlinepsychotix and Tumpashona are special invitees. The door closes behind them but not before Jachhetailikhish, disguised as a menhir, manages to sidle in.

Will Jachhetailikhish emerge alive and undetected from behind those closed doors? If she does, there will be part le trois and you dear reader, will be the first to know Chief Dominatrix’s battle plans and how Tumpa will be unleashed on Hirsutus’ hordes. If not, adieu. Signing off, this is your scribe Jachhetailikhish, from battlefront Bengaul.