A script from the Edinburgh Fringe

Among the thousands of shows at this year's Edinburgh Fringe quite a few are examining terrorism:

... from high drama to stand-up. An opera looks at suicide bombers and has questioned the war on terror.

and:

Several shows have looked at unfolding events in Abu Ghraib jail, others have examined US foreign policy and a musical has been produced.

Questioning the war; Abu Ghraib; US foreign policy. Yada, yada, yada - just what we'd expect. As it happens, a script has come into my hands that was deemed "inappropriate" for public performance. I wonder how well it would have done:

"Good evening. This is the BBC News and I’m Dim Dhimmi.

Our special guest tonight is Osama bin Laden who is here to discuss yesterday’s nuclear destruction of, err, where was it again? Somewhere up north I think. Ah yes - Birmingham.”

“Good evening your Excellency.”

“Hi, Dim. Peace be upon you. And you may call me Ozzie.”

“OK Ozzie. Now what I want to know is why you nuked Birmingham. I mean, what were the root causes. Presumably you were protesting against our government’s support for President BushHitler’s war of aggression against Iraq?”

“Iraq? Where’s that?”

“Come off it Ozzie, you’re winding me up. It’s in the Middle East.”

“Oh yeah, I remember it now. A bit below stairs for my liking. I much prefer Marbella.”

“So why did you nuke Birmingham?”

“Because we hate you.”

“I don’t understand. And anyway, why Birmingham?”

“The name came out of the hat. It could have been anywhere really. But look on the bright side Dim – there were thousands of good Muslims in Birmingham and now they’re all in Paradise. Hey, they've probably got a few decent Balti restaurants up there now. Maybe even an Allah Villa Football Club!”

(Ozzie slaps his sides and laughs uncontrollably with shoulders heaving, Heath-style.)

“You mean you just nuked Birmingham at random?”

“Sure Dim. Oh shit, what time have you got?”

“Ten fifteen.”

“OK, time for the next one.”

“You don’t mean …”

“Sure. A nuke a day keeps the Crusader away. Or nook as Bushie calls it.”

(Ozzie extracts a pair of dice from deep within his robe. He rolls the dice on Dim’s desk.)

“A six and a two. That’s eight. Let’s look up my list. Damn, this really is confusing – so difficult reading from right to left, don’t you think? Ah yes, number 8. It’s Paris!”

“But you can’t nuke Paris! The French are on your side. They supported you at the United Nations.”

“But you don’t get it yet Dim. We hate you all. And anyway, that Dominique de Villepin – who needs a Frog hairdresser? I wouldn’t even trust him to trim my beard.”

(Ozzie extracts his mobile from his robe and punches in a code.)

“My God, I’m getting a message from the producer that Paris has disappeared. Was that you? And on the BBC!”

“Sure, Dim baby. Now do you get it?”