Condensed History: The Race to the South Pole
History. It's dull, and it is mainly found in books. Books, which are to be found in libraries populated by severe-looking women who knit their own packed lunches.
Hardly the kind of thing today's easily-bored, knife-wielding hoodies are interested in, especially when there are more interesting things in this world, such as drugs, stabbing and cake.
I have made it my mission, then, to bring history bang up-to-date in the easy-to-follow txt language of THE KIDS.
So, I bring you that classic boy's own adventure:
TEH RACE 2 TEH SOUTH POLE
R. Amundsen: Hallo. Jeg er R. Amundsen, og helt utmerket. Her, putt denne fisken inn i øret ditt*.
R.F. Scott: Hello. I am Robert Falcon Scott, and I am excellent. Fortuitously, you do not require a fish in your ear to understand what I am saying.
R. Amundsen: This year, I shall be mostly trekking to the South Pole-dancing club for top LULz
R.F. Scott: This year, I shall be also mostly trekking to the South Pole-dancing club for top LULz
R. Amundsen: As a gentleman who resides north of the Arctic Circle, I shall be using ski as the most efficient method of moving over snow, and will have sleds pulled by dogs.
R.F. Scott: As an English gentleman, I have no truck with this Johnny Foreigner "ski-ing" nonsense, and shall be marching to our goal in sound military time, with pack horses and one of these new-fangled BRITISH motor vehicles.
R.Amundsen: And when the dogs outlive their usefulness, and as we use up our rations, we shall be killing the dogs and using them for meat
R.F.Scott: And when the motor vehicle runs out of fuel... oh. Ummm... and when the horses are too heavy for the ice and fall down crevasses...FFS. I see what u did there. Best be getting along then. See you in a few months.
R. Amundsen: If you're lucky, mate
Four months later...
R. Amundsen: W00t! I am at TEH SOUTH POLE-DANCING CLUB. SLATTERNS! JUST LOOK AT TEH ICE SLATTERNS!
R.F. Scott: COCK. We are late and all TEH SLATTERNS are MELTED through vigorous Johnny Foreigner-type frottage
R. Amundsen: LOLOLOL. Also: A hub a hub a hub a hub hub hub. No woman can resist a sexxxxy Norwegian with a pointy beard
R.F.Scott: And double COCK. We have eaten the last of the tractor parts and the forecast sunny spells and light showers never materialised
Captain Oates: That was the weather forecast for Cromer, sir
R.F. Scott: I say again - COCK
Captain Oates: If it's OK with you guys, I'll just be popping out for a bit of a quiet walk with the penguins
R.F. Scott: You filthy bstrd
Captain Oates: I beg your pardon?
R.F. Scott: You said 'wanking off penguins', and I heard it with these very ears, despite the howling blizzard that rages outside the very wall of this tent which is His Brittanic Majesty's Sovereign Territory. You disgust me, man, and when you disgust me, you disgust HIS MAJESTY THE KING. We may be frozen to the bone and have little or no chance of ever seeing our loved ones ever again, but such insults to THE EMPIRE cannot be tolerated. I'd stand to attention if it wasn't already frozen there.
Captain Oates: 'Walk', FFS
R.F. Scott: Soz. LOL
Captain Oates: I'll be off then. KTHXBAI
Captain Oates: You don't suppose I could have the last of the tissues and that copy of Readers Wives you've got in your pack?
R.F.Scott: You filthy devil. Oh, I appear to be TEH DED
R. Amundsen: FTW! Mmm... tasty dog.
Coming soon: TEH LIFE OF WNSTN SPNCR CHRCHLL. Oh yes.
* Many thanks to the excellent Sigg3 for the Norwegian