In lieu of recent events it doesn't seem like I'm the only one getting a bit worn down by Sparacus and it seems nice that things might end soon. But even so, I'm getting impatient. I want to know if this has an ending. And, if so, what it is. There have been a lot of false-stops along the way, remember. So is there any way of hitting a cosmic "fast-forward" button and just skipping to the fucking end already?
In a word: yes.
In a few more words: With the introduction of my new futuristic correspondent Damien P. Quitzlsnortl, yes this is posible and easy.
I asked my time-travelling friend to write a brief summary of how The Ben Chatham affair comes to a close, as if it were a simple school essay. Somewhat put out, he said he thought I'd be more interested in hearing about stuff he DID research, such as the grand Nauru Empire and Kevin Rudd's three-headed children that were given up for adoption to Angelina Joelie. I insisted that all my people of the 21st century wanted to know was the future of the Chathamverse, and then he told me, shockingly, that this isn't actually on any history curricula anywhere on the world. And that in fifteen years everything on Blogspot will be put into some Second Life landfill and be lost to all but the most toothbrush-wielding of amateur archaeologists.
I thought for a moment, and then gave him a new research project: could he find details on the ultimate fates of all Chatham thread contributors, myself concluded, that could possibly form a point of investigation and speculation of our immediate futures. He agreed to it, in return for a pair of The Veronica's panties which are curiously enough used as currency in the future after the collapse of the paperless society. Well, that's Damien's story and he's sticking to it. Luckily I happened to be wearing a pair and all was quickly settled, five seconds later he reappeared with the following information, all terribly jokes contained herein is his work or those of public archive-droids in the not-too-distant future:
The Eighth Shadow: Publically ridiculed and eventually stoned after foolsihly admitting that he was mortally afraid of The Seventh Shadow, due to the fact that Seven had very publically cannibalised the Ninth Shadow some years before. Whilst stoned he fell down a manhole. Apparently his corpse was eaten, but by Geri Ryan.
Cameron J Mason: A programming glitch when his mind was transferred from GrenRay to Even Higher Definition Disc leaves his holographic form poorly anti-aliased and in the incorrect aspect ratio. He was subsequently shot dead by Conrad Westmaas III, apparently as a 'mercy killing'.
Redcard: Found on a trip to England that it was impossible to survive the obligatory dozen fights that break out in any given pub on any given night, in spite of his bastic armour, night-vision goggles and Ninja Survival kit which, ironically, made him a more attractive target to the various Millwall-supporting skinheads.
Bernie T. Fishnotes Esq.: Doesn't die as such, merely achieves a life-long ambition of transforming into a gigantic breast. Subsequently has a long and lustrous pornographic film career, before moving into even more lucrative stand-in work for high profile celebritie's tits in major motion pictures. His ambition to move into Shakespearean theatre remains unfulfilled, however, and he is openly jealous of rival humourist Charles Daniels, who won the part of Bottom in A Midsummer Night's Dream thanks to a similar condition.
Miles Reid: Died peacefully in his sleep. I know, it's a boring one. There WAS a spider-monkey in it at the time...
Lee Ratbag: He ate something that didn't agree with him. Unfortunately, it turned out to be The Archbishop of Canterbury, whom he had often debated against. The indigestion caused his body to explode, but was hailed as an animal rights triumph by animal workers everywhere, due to the large number of live bats released as a direct result.
Fugitoid, Manmiles and Dr Spoon: Vanished mysteriously off the face of the Earth.
MLock: Tragic autofellation-related accident. It doesn't really explain the bullet-hole in his head, but who am I to argue with a West-Indian coroner? The cast of Mock the Week (listed as his 'next of kin') agree 'he would have wanted it that way'. Before adding 'we certainly did'.
Jared Hansen: Is hit in the balls by a defective cruise missile whilst playing for Australia at Lord's CC, debuting as an opening batsman at the record age of 66. He subsequently becomes a gigantic YouTube hit in death, and a dubious winner in the Darwin Awards, due to the arguably self-inflicted nature of the accident. Coach Timothy Zoehrer stated 'if he had been wearing regulation crotch protection, the hilarity of this tragic event could have been significantly reduced'
Johnstone: Leaps off a building Sam Tyler-style when he discovers that he is entirely impervious to all pain. Is quite disappointed when he doesn't wake up in an episode of Doctor Who, instead arriving in hard-hitting German police drama Inspektor Herring.
Chicken Man: He was delicious.
Ewen Campion-Clarke: Gigantic brain anuerysm directly after watching Torchwood's 50th Anniversary special, written by Nev Fountain, Mark Gatiss and Gary Russell and starring Conrad Westmaas IV. He did so against the advice of his Doctor, friends, family, TV critics, the Catholic Church, the President of Australia, and his step brother Keanu Reeves. The episode has subsequently been banned and is being used as weaponry in the Sixth Gulf War.
Lord Moon: Lost a duel for true ownership of the Moon to... TIM BISHOP! (Yeah, it's an obscure reference. Want to make something of it?)
Doc Filth: Resurrects the cast of The Goon Show using his patented Lurgy-phonic custard-fuelled Delta wave recursion drive and an open-ended, dual-control transmat beam that he kept in his back shed. Sadly, Neddy Seagoon decided to pull a Sutekh and rewarded Filth with the gift of death, because the only other thing he had on his person was a worthless bus ticket and he would hate to appear cheap.
Leonard Hatred: Passed away angrily in his sleep.
Delgado-Fan: Was finally deigned worthy of the honour of sacrifice to the great lord Delgado in the Ides of March in 2025. Ironically his was the final sacrifice necessary to bring about Roger Caesar Marius Bernard de Delgado Torres Castillo Roberto's resurrection so as DF ascended into the afterlife, Delgado was returned to the realm of the living. As such, they only met each other for a few seconds in passing and Delgado had been drinking very heavily the night before and didn't have much to say. Regardless he described the encounter as "OMFGWTFOMGOMG!"
Chris Hayle: Tragic innuendo overdose.
Wilf: After his unexpected success at working as a DW character in Partners in Crime made the ill-advised decision to accept a job as a character in a Bernard Cornwell novel, only to be unceremoniously killed off on page 17.
Michael Blumenthal: Attempts to delete the entire planet for its innumerable violations of the Code of Conduct and after coming to the conclusion that it will be quite impossible for it to get 'back on topic'. He succeeds only on wiping his house from existence, which means that fans of The Backstreet Boys face the loss of their fan club headquarters OH SNAP YOU JUST GOT SERVED!
Lemon Bloody Cola: Tragic Colchester-related fellatio accident.
nickB: Disappeared in a puff of logic. Then reappeared again seven years later. Then disappeared again. Then came back three days later. Then disappeared again. Then came back 150 years later. Then disappeared. Then came back 30 years before that. And then disappeared. I don't think he's coming back again.... for the moment...
David A. McIntee: One day, the argument over whether The Professionals or The Sweeney is cooler just goes too far...
Nick Barlow: Keeps getting confused for nickB, and disappearing in a puff of awkward social misunderstanding.
Lucy High Wolf: Brought a gun to a lightsabre fight.
Dalek Warhol: Having read this list in advance, makes a mental note to outdo everyone else with regards to the outlandish nature of his demise. And so, on September 3rd, 2084, imbides 350ccs of meth/ice/cocaine/Chris Hayle cocktail through his ears before attempting to jump the Dubai Fuckyouwesterners Entertainment and Torture Complex in a three hundred year old traction engine and a 'jump' made entirely of recycled shoeboxes. Well... actually I made that up - I'm hoping for some onthiological paradox action. As far as I can make out he got stabbed by a three-inch stiletto heel through the heart. Which is understandable given that he'd lent his heart to Charlie Sheen.
Marisa Mycroft: The Big C. Chuck Norris.
Sparacus Himself: Sadly that file hasn't yet been declassified by the CIA. Word is that it involves a snooker cue, three flamingos, HRH Conrad Westmaas Prince of Wales, two litres of sarspirilla, a piece of New Zealand cheese of dubious morality and fellatio. Roll on March 23rd 2168, I say!
Evans-T: Passed away happily in his sleep, some years after defeating Ice-T and TIM BISHOP in a duel to be bestowed with the greatest honourific title on Earth: that of Mr T.
Genesis_Rockz: Tried to hunt a certain misbeggoten Australian writer down for deliberately sabotaging his fanfic series all those decades ago. Dies in London with unmistakable defective cruise missile-related injuries. Police remain baffled.
Zorklord: Erm... actually I'm pretty sure he's still alive. Oh, hello! Yes, I thought so - he's my next door neighbour. Nice fellow. Keeps himself to himself. I'm sure he'll die soon, though - I'll get back to you.
Kinggodzillak: Becomes trapped in one of his own DVD covers for eternity,Sapphire and Steel style. On the bright side, this means that he gets to spend eternity staking Adam Rickitt though the heart with Hugh Laurie.
LunarSea: Died of a sudden and violent smugness deficiency upon being informed that his chosen moniker is in fact quite startlingly unironic, given the fact that the word 'lunacy' is directly derivative of the term 'lunar' in the first place, being used to refer to madness brought upon by the full moon. He is sorely missed by his long-time mistress The Sphinx.
hacketm: Sacrificed himself nobly by letting a bomb off in some spaceship or something. Just because some woofter in a velvet dressing gown was in some trouble. Oddball.
Rich Flair: He thought that he finally had the chance to kill his nemesis, The Youth of Australia, but to his immense frustration found out that he hadn't travelled backwards in time at all and it was just another trap of the Fendahl's! Or something. I dunno, it's confusing.
The Youth of Australia: Turned out to be Kevin Spacey all along. Although some insist that he was actually Pete Postlethwaite. What. Ever.
Although I'm sure Damien takes his work seriously, I couldn't help but notice that he ignored a few long-time Chatham readers on his list, and including some who've only made on or two posts. Quite baffling. Almost as if it was some sort of pisstake article and he'd run out of jokes.
Still, I think we can all agree that the future is in safe hands.