Jezzam and Tezzeract save America

(Someone has to)

by
The Daily Rot

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James Wilkinson

Editor's note: Some events in this story relate to articles in The Daily Rot
and are hyperlinked in case you missed them.

All material copyright © The Daily Rot 2019

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 Jezzam and Tezzeract save America
(Someone has to)

Publically bitter rivals. Privately they are

Jezzam and Tezzeract. Using their superpowers
they fight crime, injustice and saturated
fats.

37 minutes after Prime Minister's Questions while political pundits were

micro-analysing exchanges everyone had lost interest in, two figures who
are never seen together in public walked along a deserted corridor in the
Houses of Parliament.

"So how do you think that went?" said the man.

"I think I won points on Trump, housing and Brexit," said the woman.

"I'm far more critical of Trump. You're never convincing and you never win points on
Brexit," he replied.

The woman sighed. "Two-one to you them." She smiled condescendingly.

"Right. That's another box of shortbread you owe me."

"Fine. I'll put it on expenses when we get back."

"So what's the emergency, do you know?" said the man.

"No more than you. I assume you got the alert on the TezzPhone."

"JezzPhone."

"Sorry?"

"We agreed. It's the JezzPhone and the TezzMobile," he said.

"I thought it was the JezzMobile and the TezzPhone,"

"It's the TezzMobile, along with the TezzCopter, TezzPlane and TezzBoat. You do
transport and I do communications."

"Oh. All right," said the woman.

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They walked into a cordoned-off area of the Houses of Parliament which was
permanently under repair. It had no heating, no restaurant and no bar so no MP
went anywhere near.

They turned a corner, walked down a corridor and stopped by a door shedding pale
vomit-green paint. On the door the initials SDP had been inefficiently crossed out.
Below the scribble, a badly-tarnished and crookedly fitted brass plate bore the legend
Liberal Democrat HQ.

"We should get maintenance to tidy this up," said the man.

"Is that wise?"

"Well I'm not a handy man."

"No you're not."

The man gave her his best withering stare which wasn't very withering.

The woman ignored it. From a pocket inside her handbag she removed a triangular
key on a cheap fob featuring a scratched and faded photo of Nick Clegg.

"Friend of yours?" said the man nodding at the fob.

"No friend of anyone at the moment."

She opened the door and they stepped into an empty space six foot square.

"I guess they didn't need anywhere bigger," said the man.

"And it was never used which is why we converted it into a lift."

"Is this the JezzElevator or the TezzElevator?" asked the man. "As it's transport it'll
be the JezzElevator."

"No," said the woman. "We're not American. It's just a lift."

A single button on the wall showed the upside down face of David Cameron. The man
pressed it screwing his thumb into it. The woman pretended not to notice.

The lift descended. An anaesthetised muzak version of Everybody's Changing started

to play.

"I thought it was my turn to pick the music," said the man.

"Your turn next week. But you always pick marching songs. Can't we have something
a little less, well, aggressive?"

The man started to hum The Red Flag.

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After an excruciating 30 seconds the lift stopped. Excruciating because they had only
30 seconds to change costume and one had forgotten they were wearing pink frilly
panties.

They jumped out of the lift now as dynamic superheroes Jezzam and Tezzeract,
fighters of the good fight, upholders of truth and justice, denizens of evil-doers, the
bane of corrupt regimes, dictators, bullies and saturated fats.

Lights sprang to life automatically. They had a concession with British Gas. Although
it was the most expensive of all energy companies no one had bothered to visit Go
Compare. Anyway, the taxpayer footed the bill. Indirectly.

The lights revealed a vast underground chamber stretching out before them.

"This always fills me with a sense of purpose," said Jezzam,

"Yes. I appreciate you feel a little powerless up there."

"Hardly. You already owe me six boxes of shortbread, Tezza,"

"Tezzeract or Tezz, please. Tezza is so... council estate."

"I don't mind being called Jezza."

"You are council estate."

"I'm a man of the people. Anyway, it's associated housing, not council. No wonder
your housing policy's bollocks. Tezz."

"Do you really want to do this now when the world might be at stake?"

"Oh, all right. Can you remind me where the loo is? I always forget," said Jezzam.
"It's the cold down here. Plays havoc with the water works and these tights are really
tight."

Tezzeract pointed to the left and Jezzam walked off with an unnatural bow-legged
gait.

Tezzeract walked to the central area which was circular and filled with screens, dials,
levers and other complicated-looking equipment. Only A, their faithful tech man,
knew exactly what everything did.

After A's expulsion from the embassy with its secret connecting tunnel, Tezzeract
wrangled an extended stay at Her Majesty's Pleasure where he had access to another
connecting tunnel. Unfortunately, today was his day off.

Tezzeract walked to a central podium, paused for a moment then looked into the
lights and began: "My fellow Britons..."

Jezzam walked into the circle. "You said you weren't going to do that."
"It was the lights, sorry."

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"If you were standing in the middle of the road and car headlights were speeding
towards you, you'd probably make a speech"

"No, I'd get out of the way. Is that what you'd do?"

"It was a joke."

"Oh good. I love your sense of humour. Now can we get on?"

"Okay. What's the emergency?"

Tezzeract looked at a monitor. "Our agents in North Korea report that Kim Jong-un
is about to launch a nuclear attack on America."

Jezz snorted. "Serve them right."

"I don't entirely disagree. I dislike Trump almost as much as you, but we can't let
billions of people die. Even if they are American."

Jezzam mulled it over. "You're right! To the JezzPlane. Er, TezzPlane."

T
he TezzPlane was a custom-built four-seater jet. It was 100% automatic so
anyone could fly it, even members of the DUP, although as jets aren't in the
bible they'd probably need to sacrifice a goat or a lamb before getting in.

Tezzeract took the controls which consisted of a large button labelled Let's Go. She
pressed it.

The jet trundled down a wide tunnel deep beneath the corridors of power.

"I always enjoy flying," said Jezzam.

"We're not off the ground yet."

"But when we are I enjoy it."

"That's because I do the driving."

"Piloting."

"Piloting then. You just sit back and enjoy the ride."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing."

"There you are then. I'm sure I could do the piloting, press the Let's Go button."

"As usual you over-simplify things."

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"Would you like a Mojito?" said Jezzam changing the subject.

"Is that your party's official drink?"

"Only on trains."

The TezzPlane rumbled through the tunnel for 30 minutes and emerged into a field
near Heathrow airport. It took off vertically and followed its automatic course to
North Korea.

"I don't know why we can't take off through Parliament's retractable roof," said
Jezzam.

"Probably because Parliament doesn't have a retractable roof," said Tezzeract.

"Yes, but they could make one."

"I'll see if I can get that added to the current four billion pound refurbishment bill."

"It'll be five billion before they're finished. They never get estimates right."

"It's the labour charges," said Tezzeract.

Jezzam gave her a dirty look which she ignored.

"Do we have a plan of action?" said Tezzeract.

"Get in, stop him, get out," said Jezzam.

"I love your detail."

"I won't tell Philip."

T
en hours later the jet switched to stealth mode and landed in a deserted field
close to Pyongyang. It was near Kim Jong-un's secret underground bunker
which was not very secret, thanks to satellites, spies, moles and Facebook
photos.

They climbed out the jet. Tezzeract activated cloaking mode and the jet vanished
from sight.

"How will we find it again?" said Jezzam.

Tezzeract waved the cloaking control at him.

"Oh," he said. "That won't work on Boris, will it?"

Tezzeract sighed. "If it worked on people there'd be no bloody politicians left."

"Point taken."

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Tezzeract pulled out her JezzPhone and launched the JezzMap app. They followed
the map for 15 minutes and stopped at a low grey concrete building.

"Is this it?" asked Jezzam. "There aren't any guards."

"That's because it's secret. If there were guards people would know it's a building of
importance."

"I didn't think Kim was that clever."

"He's not. It's an old Soviet ruse."

"Is that why we have masses of guards around Parliament and Number 10? So people
think they're important?"

"Something like that. Now can we work on getting in?"

Jezzam looked at the JezzMap on his JezzPhone. "There's a dumb waiter serving
hatch running down the east side of the building which goes to the lowest level. He's
probably there."

"How do we get in?"

"There's an air vent in the shaft which we should be able to access from the outside."

"How convenient," said Tezzeract.

"Dictators always have a fatal flaw. His seems to be bunker design."

"You can't be good at everything."

"What's he good at, then?"

"Winding up Trump."

"Point taken."

They skirted the building to the east and found the air vent.

"You got the JezzDriver?" said Jezzam.

"The what?"

"The JezzDriver."

"What's a JezzDriver?"

"It's a special screwdriver."

"What's special about it?"

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"It's got the Jezzam logo on it."

"I have a screwdriver with a Screw Fix logo on it. Do you think that will do?"

"Who knows? Try it."

Tezzeract unscrewed the air vent cover plate and they lowered themselves into the
shaft. There was a small ladder on one side to facilitate servicing and they climbed
down.

"This is filthy," said Tezzeract. "How often does he get this thing cleaned?"

"Do you sometimes wonder if you're not a little OCD?" said Jezzam.

"There's nothing wrong with cleanliness."

"Of course not. But this is a service shaft. How many people get to crawl around
inside it? Apart from spies?"

"That's not the point. A clean shaft is a healthy shaft."

"That's certainly my motto."

They reached the bottom and Tezzeract looked out from the serving hatch.

She whispered. "We're at the end of a long room. We can get out and hide behind
some packing cases.

"Thank goodness for packing cases," said Jezzam. "See, if he'd been really tidy he'd
have unpacked them and we'd have nowhere to hide."

"It's an ill wind."

"I hope that's not a reference to last night's Common's curry."

They got out the hatch and crouched behind a pile of packing cases.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the loo is, do you?" said Jezzam.

"You should have gone on the Plane."

"Oh, I didn't know it had one. Come to think of it, I haven't seen you go since we set
off."

"I don't seem to suffer from your particular ailment."

"It's not an ailment, it's a condition."

"Whatevs."

"Okay, I'll hold it."

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K
im Jong-un had built his Doomsday Room especially to house the nuclear
button, eight legal-age girls from good families and a barber.

He didn't pay the barber. Being of service to the great Kim Jong-un should be
payment enough which is why he had a shit dictator hair style. Fortunately Kim
didn't understand irony although the barber regarded the cut as payback rather than
ironic.

Kim Jong-un was sitting at a control panel in the middle of the room. The girls and
the hairdresser were lounging on cushions in a corner.

The girls were dressed in decadent western lingerie Kim had smuggled into the
country in a diplomatic bag.

The girls were giggling and drinking vodka. For though the barber was a of a lowly
station he was hot and the girls had not seen any man other than Kim Jong-un for
many months and so were desperate.

Kim Jong-un was talking to himself. Tezzeract activated the JezzTranslator app on
her JezzPhone. Kim was saying: "Push the bottom, kill the imperialist pigs. Don't
push the button, have more fun with Trump. Push the button. Not push. Oh,
decisions." And on and on.

"Do you have a plan?" whispered Jezzam.

"Why not use your Indecision Zap on him?" said Tezzeract.

"Indecision?"

"You know, when you can't make up your mind about something."

"I know what indecision is, thank you," said Jezzam. "I was thinking your Groundhog
Day Zap might be better."

"Groundhog Day?"

"After the movie."

"I'm familiar with the movie, thank you," said Tezzeract.

"It's what I call your Time Loop Zap. When you do the same thing over and over and
expect a different result."

"That's Einstein's definition of insanity."

"Exactly."

"I don't follow," said Tezzeract.

"Your Brexit— Oh, nevermind. It would put him into a repeating loop of indecision."

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"And how is that better than your Indecision?"

"My Indecision Zap would make him indecisive but he might still reach a decision at
random. Your Groundhog— Sorry, Time Loop would freeze him in-between
decisions."

"How many times has someone zapped with your Indecision actually made a
decision?" said Tezzeract slightly louder than intended.

"Well, none that I know of but it's theoretically possible," said Jezzam matching her
volume.

The girls and the barber heard their raised voices and looked across to the packing
cases. One of the girls giggled, stood up and walked towards them. She was almost
wearing something flimsy in white.

Kim Jong-un was still looking at the button. "Eeny meeny miny moe..."

"That's done it," said Tezzeract. "Why don't we both zap him at the same time?"

"Have you any idea what that will do?" said Jezzam

"No. Have you?"

The girl had almost reached their hiding place. They stood up simultaneously and
simultaneously zapped Kim Jong-un.

The girl screamed and jiggled back to her friends and the barber. Jezzam watched
her retreating form. Tezzeract nudged him hard. He shrugged.

Kim Jong-un looked left then right then brought his hand down on the button. He
looked left then right again and brought his hand down on the button again.

"That's a shame," said Tezzeract.

"No shit Sherlock."

"We've locked him into a loop blowing up America over and over."

"Unfortunately," said Jezzam.

"Fortunately, he only has one nuclear missile."

"Unfortunately I don't think we can do anything to stop it."

"Fortunately the US early warning system should pick it up and destroy it."

"Unfortunately..."

"Unfortunately?" said Tezzeract.

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"Er, I was in the loop so to speak, in the flow... You know."

The girls and the barber were all standing up looking at Kim Jong-un repeatedly
nuking America.

"How long will he stay like that?" asked Tezzeract.

"Long enough for us to get out of here, I hope," said Jezzam.

They retraced their steps to the service hatch. Tezzeract started climbing. "Jezzam,"
she shouted in a stage whisper. "What are you doing?"

"I need one for Instagram."

"Is that of Kim or the girls?"

"Er, Kim, of course."

They climbed up the shaft, through the air vent and ran, crouching, back to the
TezzPlane.

Tezzeract pressed the decloaking control. Nothing happened.

"I knew cloaking was a bad idea," said Jezzam.

"You'd rather we brought armed guards to watch it?"

"Job creation. I was thinking we could, perhaps, do with a side-kick or two."

"Tezz and Jezz and Lezz and Dezz, I suppose."

"It was just a thought."

Tezzeract walked on, pressed the decloaker and the TezzPlane appeared.

"There you are. Efficient British workmanship," said Tezzeract.

"I thought the parts were made by Huawei?"

"None of a sensitive nature."

"So they have no idea where we are?"

"Absolutely not."

500 miles to the west in a room in a covert military base, a light on a console began
to blink.
Tezzeract and Jezzam climbed into the jet. Tezzeract pressed the Let's Go button. The
jet took off and headed for Britain.

"Shall we check developments?" said Jezzam.

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Tezzeract fiddled with the on/off radio button on the plane's dashboard. "...as North
Korea's latest missile test fell unceremoniously into the sea President Donald Trump
tweeted that Pyongyang should have used American technology instead of Russian or
Chinese."

"That was fortunate," said Tezzeract.

"Don't start," said Jezzam.

The end

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