This is the start of an interactive serial that will be published weekly, on Thursdays. At the end there are three options, please choose the one that you think will get you closer to your aim of bringing down the government!
You can’t remember how you ended up in the World Chess Final and you’re not sure why your opponent is a Golden Retriever – a Golden Retriever who is wearing a bow tie and aviator shades – but you might as well try to make the best of it. With sweaty fingers you move a pawn forward a couple of spaces, the dog hums quietly and muses, “The Glaswegian opening. Interesting.”
The audience surrounding you in the huge auditorium begin to murmur amongst themselves as the dog produces a step-ladder from somewhere and climbs up it. The crowd murmurs get louder and turn into a buzzing sound, it grows louder and louder as the dog unfurls a party banner that reads ’You’re not very good at this, are you?’.
The buzzing is becoming unbearable now, it feels like your head is actually rattling from the noise. The crowd are on their feet now pointing and laughing as you begin to vibrate wildly, knocking all the chess pieces over…
Your eyes snap open, slowly recognising the dim gloom of your bedroom, your other senses grudgingly cooperate to work out that you’ve fallen asleep with your phone wedged under your forehead. You would move it, but surely the ringing will stop in a second and you already know that whatever you did last night has rendered you almost completely incapable of even the simplest tasks.
The phone doesn’t stop though, it keeps vibrating. You’ve got a bastard behind the eyes and with each passing moment it feels like he’s invited a few more mates round to help him trash the place.
After another thirty seconds of denial, you are finally unable to ignore the mad, constant buzzing, you reach up from under the covers and peel your frenzied phone away from your clammy head. A crazed stream of notifications is falling rapidly down the screen, too fast for you to comprehend.
You tap away at the angry device to see what you did to cause all this fuss. At 1.41 AM this morning you posted a tragic selfie: Your half-cut face caught in the middle of a slow blink, drooling slightly as you exhale a lungful of cigarette smoke. Above the tragic image is the text:
No joke… STarting Tomorrow, I ams GoingG to BRING DOWN THIS GIEVRNMENT!!!!!! #lifegoals #revolution
The numbers underneath the initial tweet, despite already being huge, are shooting up at what seems like an exponential rate, your phone vibrating even more urgently as it struggles to keep up with your newfound fame.
Your stomach gurgles unhappily as your brain tries to comprehend exactly what is happening and whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. You think it is probably best if you ignore the whole situation and go back to sleep. That’s when you see that you’ve just been followed by none other than the actual, blue-ticked, Pierce Brosnan.
You rub your bleary eyes in preparation to see how many other famous new friends you have accrued while asleep. Big mistake – a couple of your fingers are still sticky with last night’s sambuca – you now have matted eyelashes and sharply stinging eyes.
Groaning and rolling over to wipe your face on the least offensive looking bit of bed, you inadvertently waft the air from under the duvet up and over your head. It smells like a sweaty kebab lost a fight with a bottle of vodka, in a donkey sauna – you hiccup, but it doesn’t turn into a full retch. Bit of a result there.
Your head is banging. Your eyes are streaming. Your stomach is growling. Your phone is red hot in your hand and seems like it might be about to explode. Something needs to be done, but what?
(So far you have brought down 0% of The Government)