If We Were A Kids' Show...

Now it's time once again for our occasional dip into the Unbelieva-Mailbag...

This one is from Huw Rinal from Tan-Y-Bwlch, Wales, who writes:

Dear Unbelievables, 
     I know you had a TV show pilot that wasn't picked up by the networks, bach, isn'it, there's lovely. But if it could be rebooted as a kids' show, what sort of format would you like it to take - cartoon, live-action, 3D, computer animated, or what? There's lovely, isn'it?

Your pal from the valleys, bach, isn'it,

Huw Rinal.

Great question, and one I think we'll all have interesting opinions on. Myself, I'd like to see us as a Gerry Anderson-type action adventure show, with puppets as ourselves, like Thunderbirds or Joe 90. Intrigue, drama, espionage, technology, jumping out of planes, downhill skiing while shooting at people, etc. Like James Bond on a smaller scale.

Here's a couple of clips to give you an idea:







Can't you just see us kicking Henri Petit's butt in Supermarionation? Or knocking seven bells out of Little Debbie or Sam Snow while dangling dangerously from some exploding tower? Or even taking on extra intelligence a la  Joe 90 to defeat Negative Charge or Dr. Oldschool? And then winding down in the pool at Tracy Island with some lovely ladies (Hello, ladies!!)? 

I  think it would be a sweet idea. I may just get on the horn to some TV types and suggest it, but before I do, I'll have the guys weigh in on this topic.

Ciao!

More Twists And Turns Than You Can Shake A Stick At

~~~moving on swiftly (we hope)~~~

The Renault stopped abruptly and Petit turned in his seat to face us, saying "So, Unbelie--", promptly falling out of his booster seat, dropping his ciggy, saying "shit" a few times, retrieving the still-burning smoke, realising the carpet was on fire, stamping it out and clambering back up into his seat, huffing and puffing to catch his breath, then finally spluttering, "So... Un... believables *cough*"

"Spit it out, you insufferable toe-rag," growled Clark, "before I defenestrate you again!"

That clearly rattled Petit and his eyes glowed with anger. Or did they? No, they didn't. It was merely the reflection of the roaring fire that was now raging on the floorboards where he had previously dropped his lit fag-end. 

We scrambled for the doors and each of us grabbed one of the TVD girls and bailed from the vehicle, gallantly rescuing them from the rapidly escalating conflagration.

"WAIT! WHAT ABOUT ME!!!" screamed the nasty toddler-like git.

"Shall we rescue him?" I asked the others.

"I suppose we have to if we want to find out what is going on," Michael replied, "although there's no immediate hurry."

"I CAN HEAR YOU!!! GET ME OUT OF HERE!!" wailed Petit, so we resignedly went over and opened the door.

"Wait, the door was unlocked the whole time, you tiny freak! Was that some kind of trick?" I gasped incredulously.

"Well, normally I'd say yes, Unbelieva-goons, but sadly it pains me to say that I just couldn't reach the handle. You guys just don't know what it's like to be me, you know, it's hard, it really gets me down someti--"

His pitiful speech was abruptly stopped by the van exploding (as these things are apt to do, especially in movies, which was somewhat ironic considering we were standing in what appeared to be an abandoned movie set).

"Well, that's our ride gone" said Clark.

Thus far the TVD's hadn't uttered a peep, but just at that moment one of them said, "Sorry guys..."

We heard the familiar sound of a gun being cocked and turned slowly to see the girls pointing weaponry at us.

From behind them we saw the doors of all the fake buildings opening and the familiar figures of many of our nemeses spilling from them - Sam Snow, Little Debbie, Negative Charge, The Double "D" Dames, to name a few -  all led by Tie-Po and Mac Ramey. All of them armed, and looking more than a little menacing.

What was the meaning of all this? Why were we at an old movie studio surrounded by villains? What did they want? How are we going to get home mow? How did we get out of this alive? (Because we did, you know. That's how come I'm able to write this. So there!).

Well you may ask. Fear not though, for more will be revealed on Friday!

~~~continuing on with all the continuation and stuff~~~

Schooled By Kip

"Kip!" I yelled at the schoolboyish face as he entered the room, "You got some 'SPLAININ' TO DO!!! Sic'im, Ulf!" and with that I unleashed Ulf towards Kip, who immediately fell under the force of Ulf's UnbelievaPaws.

Ulf in training. He can catch all those balls before they or he hit the ground.

The poor sap lay in a semi-fetal position while Ulf jumped all over him, shouting "Stop, stop, c'mon Ulf, stop, boy!" and crying... or was that laughing?

It was then Michael noticed something. "Hey, guys... Ulf's either gone soft or he's trying to slobber Kip to death!"

We pulled Kip to his feet and as he wiped the doggie drool from his face, we saw he was smiling broadly.

Clark was incensed. "Hang on just a cotton-pickin' moment, you snot-nosed little twit," he said. "What the heck just happened here?! C'mere, you little..."

Kip expertly dodged Clark's lunge towards him - a little too expertly, if you ask me - and began to explain.

"Guys, guys, calm down. What you're all probably wondering is how is the idiot mailboy behind all this threatening stuff?"

"You ain't just whistlin' Dixie, brother!" said Clark, who is rather fond of quoting Daffy Duck when irritated.

"Well, the truth is, I'm not. Or at least I wasn't to begin with. The Ominous Tall Man All Dressed In Black is - was - a concoction dreamt up by none other than Little Debbie, Henri Petit, Sam Snow, et al - to spur you guys into thinking you were under serious threat. Which worked. Their aim being to catch you guys off guard at some point and kidnap one of you for a huge ransom."

Heh-heh!

Whatevs.

"Uh-huh" said Michael. "So how did you get involved?"

"Well, I'd seen how sloppy you guys were getting lately - I mean, making frozen cocktails and chilaquiles while under threat -

Mm mm mm.

Chilaquiles Verde Con Pollo, Unbelievables style.

 that's either ridiculous over-confidence or not giving a rat's patootie, either of which is dangerous. You need to be ever vigilant. So I solved the case for you and then decided to up the ante and pretend to be The Ominous Tall Man All Dressed In Black to give you a much-needed workout. Which I hope I have."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I cried. "Back the truck up uno momento, por favor! What do you mean you 'solved the case for us', Mail Boy?"

"Yeah!" said Clark. "How would you be able to do something like that without utilising our butt-kicking UnbelievaFu-type skills, etc.? Not to mention being extremely handsome and sexy? Huh? Huh, Mail Boy? Huh?"

"Who says I didn't?" replied Kip, coolly raising one eyebrow.

"WHAT?!" spluttered Michael, scarcely able to believe his ears (actually, nobody can believe Michael's ears. They are rather hairy, but let's not get into that right now). "You don't mean...!?!"

Not actually Michael's ear. Honest.

Back In The Back Of The Laundromat

So ... you'd think: 
 

"Jeff? Clark? Michael? We've read the last two entries in the mythos of The Unbelievables and, while interesting in and of themselves, you're tossing out quite a few whys and wherefores of your super secret and clandestine digs in Stiletto Flats, Nevada for all to know. Aren't you leaving yourself open to infiltration? Aren't you, in essence, inviting bad guys who wish to do you nothing but bad to you do you bad? Aren't you thumbing your noses at them to exact their revenge? Aren't you rolling out a red carpet for them to practice their monkey business? Sabotage your headquarters? All the while with their availability of getting their whites whiter than white and their color coordinates brighter than bright?"

One would think so, wouldn't one? But we're The Unbelievables, folks. Rest assured their are plenty of safeguards set in place to deter villains. (And some have come from trial and error. We like to think we learn from our mistakes ... such as that time we accidentally set Jeff's hair afire from ... that ... thing. But that's a tale for another time.)

The fact of the matter is this: It's not the safeguards so much as our fondness for jocularity that protects our headquarters. The unwitting evildoer is pretty simple-minded much of the time. (Trust us when we say there are a ton of them out there who are dumber than a bag of hammers.) Oh ... there are the geniuses and the brainiacs, the math wizards and those whose sheer brute strength is able to move mountains. But they all have a weakness, each and every one of them. Many times, that weakness is their single-minded focus on world domination (most villains) ... or eradicating toys from the face of the earth (Sam Snow aka "Frosty The Snowman") ... or pilfering each and every can of Spam in the continental United States (the no good Chipped McBeef). You see ... when the bad guys zero in on their wants, it's pretty easy to fool them. And if they think they can infiltrate the Unbelieva-Base with said blinders on, they're sadly mistaken. 

One of the armaments we employ is so basic it's downright comical. And that's precisely why we use it. It's the old "Six Quarter" defense.

We have a sign at the entrance of the laundromat just for the bad guys, directing them to the rear of the establishment. There, they find yet another herald that simply states "Entry to the Unbelieva-base. 6 Quarters, please." While they're digging in their pockets (reprobates rarely have quarters on their person, let alone 6 quarters), they're nabbed right then and there with little effort. It amazes us how gullible some of these heels are when it comes to simple bait.

Many such buffers are built into the Unbelieva-base. I'm not going to give away all our trade secrets. That wouldn't be prudent.

So ... again you'd think: 

"Jeff? Clark? Michael? What about things such as nuclear attack or somesuch? Isn't that a concern?" 

And the answer to that would be "No." Quite simply because: 1) It's too costly to fortify against nuclear annihilation; 2) While we're non-governmentally affiliated, good 'ole Uncle Sam would protect us against any incoming nuclear threat just the same as if some henchman launched same at a Wisconsin dairy farm, and; 3) Who says The Unbelievables don't have multiple Unbelieva-bases set throughout the country and abroad?

Silly criminal harbingers of doom. They're of little consequence when it comes to our headquarters, our handy, dandy "lavanderia" and our neighborly social attractants stocked with refreshments.

I have to go pull the car 'round now. I think Clark and Jeff are calling out our first case of the new year. 

So ... 2013? Worry not: You're safe in the hands of ...

... The Unbelievables ...