Banner Graphic

Battle of the Titans

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome, once again, to world class, heavyweight drinking - the sport of men. And a good morning to you, too, James."

"Aye. And ye as well. Tell us, Pe'er, wha' ha' we in store today for our guid listeners?"

"Today's match promises to be one for the history books, James. The contender,

United States Senator Ted Kennedy and Russian ex-Premier - and World Champion - Boris

Yeltsin are duking it out for the gold.

"There's li'l or no surprise in' tha', Pe'er. Kennedy and Yeltsin ha' stood at the top o' th' heap these many long years. 'Tis a battle of brute strength we've all been waitin' for."

"True, James. These two champions have become the very definition of a world class heavyweight in international drinking bouts. Why, the ease with which they demolished their Australian and Bavarian opponents in the semi-finals surely puts these men in a class completely by themselves."

"Speakin' o' which, Pe'er, those selfsame Hun and Digger will be facin'off for the Bronze la'er this afternoon...that is, they will if the Bavarian gets out o' th' 'hospital in time."

"Indeed, yes, and our prayers go with Herr Schickelgrueber as he battles through his fourth liver replacement in as many years. the contest."


"Yeltsin and Kennedy, accompanied by their supporters, are marching onto the field with the steady, confident stagger of true champions. Behind Yeltsin the Russian Army Chorus and Band is playing a solemn dirge while Kennedy's Irish group seems to be pl aying a medly of Irish, folk music."

"Dig th' knockers on th' one holding up Kennedy from th' left, Pe'er!"

"She's impressive, no doubt, James, but just take a glimpse at that line of jiggling Ochee Chyornya's following Yeltsin."

" 'Impressive?' Oh, aye."

"Yeltsin and Kennedy have seated themselves at the contest table, their support groups marching counter-clockwise around to take up positions within sight of their champions. The contestants are choosing their poisons now. Yeltsin has chosen a mix of v arious flavoured vodkas, while Kennedy has picked several bottles each of Bushmill's Irish whiskey and Glenlivet single malt scotch."

"I canna faul' Kennedy's tas'e there, Pe'er."

"No more can I, James. And Yeltsin is showing that same mastery of the sport which has always characterized him by sticking to the old and familiar."

"Oh, aye...bu' pepper flavoured vodka? Th' man must ha' a stomach of pure cast iron."

"Indeed. The judge is laying out the glasses and pouring the first rounds. The traditional toast and....they're off! Just look at Kennedy's gullet work as he drains a full three ounce tumbler and reaches for another!"

"Yeltson's no far be'ind."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this promises to be a long, brutal, wearing battle of will."

"Aye, Pe'er. Two great men, bonny drinkers the twa of 'em, in the same weigh' class...wait 'alf a mo'....Pe'er, I've just received word that Herr Schikelgrueber, the Bavarian champion, has been discharged from th' hospital. This afternoon's contest goe s on as planned."

"Well that will certainly bring a tear of joy to our listeners, James. But now, a word from our sponsor."

(Cut to a commercial for Dr. Nigel Greeley's liver and nose repair shop: Blood vessel fixers to the Crown.)

"Welcome back, folks. And what's this? Yeltsin is banging his shoe on the table. What seems to be the problem, James?"

" 'Tis that bloody Irishman, Kennedy, Pe'er. He's two drinks up on Yeltsin and laughin' at the poor ol' 'ero."

"Yeltsin is striving manfully to catch up, folks. He is slowly closing Kennedy's early lead."

"But what's this? One of Kennedy's supporters has just unveiled a photograph of a young girl with an obituary next to it. Something about "Chapaquidick", I think. Another one is showing an advertisement of a Volkswagen Beetle floating on a pond. And t hey're all sporting "Kennedy in 76" campaign buttons...unused ones, it appears. Kennedy's drinking has just picked up noticeably. His lead is growing by leaps andbounds."

"Le's turn now, Pe'er, to an interview taped earlier today with Paddy O'Rourke, Kennedy's trainer."

(cut to a brief shot of an unshaven man sleeping it off on a bar, somewhere in Boston. A reporter type is nudging the man without success. He gives up.)

"Back again folks. And to bring you up to the minute, Kennedy has re-established a clear dominance in this race. Boris Yeltsin is flat on his back, the doctors in attendance."

"'Tis a sad thing to see, Pe'er."

"And look, James. In a show of absolute contempt for his opponent, Kennedy has poured himself 4 triple Bushmills and is tossing them off, one after another. The Kennedy fans are wildly waving their "Kennedy for President" signs!"

"Dinna count Yeltsin out yet, Pe'er. He's seen Kennedy's bravado and is brushin' the medicos aside. The Yeltsin group ha' unveiled a number of "Freedom for Chechnya" signs as well as a banner showing the collapse of the Russian economy since the end of Communism. Yeltsin's risin', staggerin', to his fee...wai'..e's back on his arse again!"

"But he has a bottle of Stoly in his hand! The Russian Army Chorus and Band is goose-stepping around the stadium in a smashing show of support for their hero."

(Cut to a shot of the Tamil Guards shouting "Urrah!" at a May Day parade.)

"Yeltsin's twistin' th' top off his bo''le. He's raisin' it to 'is lips."

"The suspense is building...the crowd's hushed. Will Boris Yeltsin make it and retain his crown as number one heavyweight champion drinker of the world?"

"The Russian Army Chorus and Band is going absolutely wild! Yeltsin has drained a full liter of 121 proof pepper flavoured Stolichnaya! He's waving the bottle in victory. But wait...No...Yeltsin's flat on his back again, vomiting and shitting himself like there's no tomorrow!"

"Yon Kennedy has a fat and drunken look, Pe'er."

"Yes, James. Kennedy's looking on expectantly...if somewhat blearily. The doctor's shaking his head. They're covering Boris Yeltsin with a sheet! What's this? The doctor has reported that Yeltsin's liver has exploded. I repeat, Yeltsin's liver has blown up. That's right, Ladies and Gentlemen, the former leader of Russia is dead."

"And Kennedy's doing a victory jig around Yeltsin's corpse! 'at's in pretty bad taste, wouldn't you say, Pe'er?"

"Well, Kennedy is Irish, after all, James."

"Oh, aye, and American, which is th' worse."

"Speaking of which, Ladies and Gentlemen, coming up is the event you've all been waiting for; the final showdown between the former President of the United States and our very own Crown Prince in the game of Unattractive Bimbo Boffing."

"And that promises to be a grand, bonny match, too, Pe'er."

"Yes, but not one for the faint hearted, eh, James?"