A complaint

Standard

We, the undersigned, would like to make a complaint.

We are making this complaint on behalf of all villains, super villains, arch villains, Emperors, Number Ones and nemeses, whether represented on screen, paper, electronic media or ancient oral tradition.

Good guys cheat.

There is no other way to describe it. They cheat, lie, disassemble and use underhand tactics. It has been happening since the beginning of time, in a galaxy far far away. It’s happening right now. And it will get even worse in the science fiction worlds of the future.

It’s no mwhahahahing matter. We are seriously annoyed.

Let’s start with the gadgets. Just about every good guy gets these fantastic toys that they use once and once only. How suspicious is that? Whether it’s a laser beam in a watch or a magic rope or a sword.

And most suspiciously of all, they don’t use these toys until the very last second. They pass up thousands of opportunities to use a gadget until it gets to the point where you are sure you have caught them. Then they whip it out and laser beam your trolls.

And purlease don’t get us started on prophecies. These days it seems that just about everyone is descended from someone important, or is the chosen one, or is the last of his race, or has this magic destiny. How many bleeping chosen ones can there possibly be?

Surely the idea behind a chosen one is that there is … only one of them? That’s implicit in the job title. So how come we keep seeing more and more of them? What is the collective noun for chosen ones? An implausibility of chosen ones? An infuriation?

Cheating, that’s what it is.

If a chosen one can’t lose, then we can’t win. How can that possibly be fair? It’s not a level playing field. It’s discrimination and inequality and just downright naughty. It’s almost certainly a breach of health and safety rules too.

Then there’s the dressing up. We don’t want to get personal about this. What they do in their private lives is their business. We quite like a bit of costumery ourselves, although it’s normally of the flowing robe variety. But we are absolutely fed up with good guys dressing up as henchmen to sneak past the guards. It’s not original, it’s not clever, it’s not nice. How do you think the henchmen feel, hmm?

Not to mention telling porky pies (lies) on their job application forms. If you’re putting a team together for a bank job, you just know that at least one of the applicants for hot-shot driver will be an undercover cawp (policeman). It’s been said many times, but you really can’t get the staff these days.

In fact, we would quite like to hire a few good guys, if we can come to a mutually satisfactory agreement about their personal goals and work objectives. They do seem to be a better shot than the sort of employee that we normally recruit.

Talking of which, what is all this stuff about bullet time? Our henchmen go into slow motion while the good guys speed up? That’s blatantly unfair. They get to dodge the bullets and we get the dry cleaning bills for all the blood. Stand still and be shot, damn you!

Our science fiction and horror colleagues would like to mention fatal flaws. It is downright discriminatory to cause someone physical or emotional pain on the grounds of race or religious belief. And yet the so-called good guys are forever picking on species because of their allergies to sunlight, or water or earth germs.

The vampiric brethren are particularly peeved at the number of fatal flaws that they have been given. This includes (but it not limited to) … crucifixes, sunlight, holy water, churches, wooden staves, duvets not stuffed with Transylvanian earth, silver bullets and garlic. They see this as clear signs of favouritism when compared to other branches of the undead.

The engineering department would politely ask that unauthorised personnel do not touch the self-destruct mechanisms. Or exploit barely perceptible design flaws in death stars. Leave the death stars alone and we won’t have to kill so many Bothan spies, okay?

But the biggest complaint of all, the one on which we are all agreed, is about timing. Good guys have this infuriating habit of looking absolutely beaten … and then somehow finding a sneaky way to win at the last moment. Just when we think we have got them, some character that you had forgotten about reappears with reinforcements. Or the main man whips out a gadget. Or one of our henchmen turn to his side. And naturally there are always  007 seconds left on the timer of the nuclear device.

It’s a tease, that’s what it is. We get so close and it’s taken away from us. It’s like the cricket batsman who is caught out on 99. It’s the galactic empire about to destroy the rebel alliance.

And why oh why do you keep interrupting our weddings? When the chap in the dog collar says “if any one knows of any reason why these two should not be wed” –no-one is supposed to say anything. We don’t want the unwilling and drugged bride voicing an opinion. And we certainly don’t want any shenanigans from former beaus who haven’t got an invitation to the party. If you’re name isn’t on the list, you are not coming in. Even if you produce a fake invitation or dress up like a waiter.

Again.

We’ve got lots of evidence. In the history of mankind –  past, present and future – the number of evil victories (not including temporary victories subsequently overturned) amounts to precisely … none.

Those are the terms of our complaint. And if you don’t do anything about it, we will …. er …

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