It was quiet and late, and [Ian Hislop] was happily settled in his favourite armchair reading back issues of Private Eye. It was a tremendously silly indulgence and one that he didn’t let anyone else know about. No need to hand out opportunities to be teased. But the house was still and silent, save for the occasional chortle of a man who knew good political satire when he read it. And that, Ian considered, was tremendously nice.
It didn’t last. Of course not. Ian eyed the phone for a full three seconds before he picked it up and answered with a resigned, “Yes?”
“Ian!” It was Paul. And he sounded chipper. Ian rolled his eyes heavenwards and noticed that the ceiling really was an ugly shade of cream. “You know Star Wars.”
It was something of an embarrassment for Ian that the first thing he thought of was not Reagan’s ridiculous fantasy of an SDI defence, but Chewy piloting the Millennium Falcon. He was rather fond of Chewbacca, something of an unsung hero. Of course, this wasn’t something he was going to admit.
“I thought Bush had given up on that,” he replied nonchalantly. There was a moment of silence on the other end.
“Not that, the other one. You know. With spaceships and stuff.”
Read the rest here. And a megaglomp to calapine!