Thanks for being patient, everybody. I finally gave up on trying to make it “just right.” Hopefully it’s at least “good enough.”

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Chapter 37: Summer Camp Shock

The entire camp sprang into motion like a poorly organized beehive. People shoved each other and ran for their tent, vehicle, gun, or whatever else they thought was important.

London pointed to the screen. "Did you just see that?"

"Yeah, I’m just not sure if I can believe it."

"What the hell was that? How did they do that?"

I shrugged looked around for Rhett.

He was gone in the shuffle.

Jex’s voice echoed commands over the PA system.

The crowd around the big TV scurried away. Its owner popped into the RV just long enough to strap on an attachment-laden AR-15 then set himself to cleaning everything up.

The "Technical Difficulties" screen disappeared and the two haggard analysts were back. Their faces were pale and one of them looked like he was about to throw up.

"Ladies and gentlemen." The other commentator swallowed hard. "Today is a tragic day. The President of the United States is-"

The screen went black.

My stomach dropped. Dead? I looked around. The President of the United States, dead?

The RV owner was coiling up the chord to the now unplugged TV.

Shouts from the buzzing camp confirmed my fear. "…the President, too." "…at least four more senators…" "…President’s dead…" "…how the hell did they get so many…" "What about the vice…"

I stared off into space. The President and who knows how many senators dead. The aliens don’t even have to have all that big of an army. They already had us in a panic. This’ll drive most Americans insane with fear. We’re screwed before we even-

London shook my arm. "Corbin. Corbin. Hey, are you in there?"

I shook my head. "Uh, yeah. Mostly."

"What are we going to do?"

I looked around.

There was a group or a squad or whatever already standing in ranks over by an old orange pickup truck, just waiting for the go ahead to shoot at something. Everybody but London and me was figuring out where to go. A twelve-ish year old boy with a shaved head ran past carrying a shotgun and a machete.

Where the hell is he going to do with- I shook my head. Doesn’t matter. "I guess we find the first aid tent."

"I mean about the President, and you know, everything."

"I don’t know. I just don’t know."

Without thinking, I grabbed London’s hand and started walking in the direction we had been headed before the broadcast.

The first aid area was only about twenty yards down, hidden behind yet another large camper. It consisted of two of those ten by ten shade coverings, a couple of tables, some boxes of supplies, and a cot. Someone had written first aid in magic marker on a box that sat on a table.

A radio crackled from a nearby tent. "…Senators Rick Haberdane of Oregon, Julie Nascent of Ohio, and Larry White of New York have now been reported dead as well. That brings the current total to fourteen senators and nine congressmen, along with the President and Vice President. It is unclear at this time whether any cabinet members have been murdered, so it is assumed that Secretary of State Beverly Caslon is now the acting president of the United States. There has been no official contact from the aliens yet, but it seems clear that they are responsible…"

How could they possibly have set all this up? Had they abducted everybody, one by one, or is this some kind of unstoppable murder weapon?

A man wearing green jogging pants and a tank top greeted us from behind the table. "How can I help you? Is one of you injured?"

"Actually, uh, Jex sent us to help you out."

He flipped his hand like he was waving us away. "I don’t exactly need the help right now, sport. As you can see, I don’t exactly have a waiting line. And I think I’ll be able to handle whatever comes this way, anyway. And I have had several advanced classes through both the fire department and the Red Cross."

Arrogant moron. I was betting that he had exactly zero field experience.

London squeezed my hand, and it was definitely an angry squeeze.

I wanted to slap him and detail some of the grisly things I’d seen and worked on in the Emergency room. Instead I decided to try to play it cool, for once. You know, before London slapped him.

"Maybe we could hang around a bit, just in case."

He turned away from us. "Whatever. Just don’t mess with my supplies."

London leaned over and hissed in my ear. "Why do they all have to be like that?"

"I think it’s a rule in the survivalist’s handbook."

She gave a nervous chuckle. "I’ll bet it says something like, ‘Whenever you meet someone for the first time, do not introduce yourself or be helpful. Instead, be as big a jackass as you can. That way people you know can be shown how truly hardcore survivalist you are.’"

Three distant booms trembled the air. A wailing siren chased the explosions on a breeze. The seconds later, another louder boom shook the ground and the air.

My stomach knotted with the disgusting sensation of things going from bad to worse. "What was that?"

London pointed toward the hill. "I think that’s coming from the army camp."

An uneasy murmur crawled across the camp as more bizarre noises wafted our way from beyond the hill. Were the aliens attacking the army? Did the army attack the aliens? There was no way to know what was going on over there. We simply had to wait.

And I hated the waiting, and had a nasty feeling that I was going to hate what came after the waiting even worse.

Out of the distant noises arose the distinctive whirring of a helicopter speeding our way.

The chop-chop-chopping sound increased.

Several of the campers around us brought their firearms up to the ready.

One of the helicopters that had passed overhead earlier whizzed over the top of the hill. This time it was flying much lower and faster. It cleared the camp in a matter of a second or two. Everybody caught a gust of wind from its rotors.

I spun around to see where it was going.

The helicopter turned sharply to follow the road back toward town.

A silver streak flashed through the air over head.

My heart skipped a beat.

The helicopter exploded in a massive crimson and silver ball.

The shockwave rattled my teeth.

Thick black smoke marked the path of the debris as it dropped from the sky.

Shouts and screams filled the air, as if the entire crowd had just realized that war with the aliens would not be a fun summer trip after all. It was going to be hellishly ugly.

The booming rat-a-tat report of the fifty caliber machine gun thundered in over the commotion of the crowd.

I jerked my head around just in time to see a UFO clear the top of the hill.

I clenched my jaw and wished I still had a gun.

eBook Preparation for Kindle Store

Oh, and for those of you who are still lurking about, waiting patiently for the next chapter in the Journey of St. Laurent, I should have it up tomorrow sometime.

Ick.

Well, it looks like the motherboard to my computer is fried. That makes me unhappy. At least I’ve been good about backups.

You know what else makes me unhappy? The government.

Seriously.

Recently, President Obama (or at least whatever staff member has keys to the account) tweeted the following:

A vote against the DISCLOSE Act is a vote to allow corporate and special-interest takeovers of our elections.

If you ask me, a vote for DISCLOSE is a vote to allow politician takeovers of our corporations. Why might that be bad? Well, if the politicians really knew anything about business, they’d be able to run the government so that it showed a profit, not exponential debt.

/rant

I have got to get caught up on all the edits and typos found in the last few chapters.

Thanks all for reading.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Chapter 36 – An Eye Out for Trouble

Jex sprang to life. He fell all over himself on the way to the table in the corner, pushed a few buttons, then picked up the microphone. A PA system outside echoed his booming voice around the camp. He made a general announcement that the President and Senator Reynolds were about to make a speech. Then he put out a call for all tactical team leaders to report to the command tent immediately following the speech.

London nudged me. "Senator Reynolds? The ‘Not in my country’ guy?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Something must be going down if he’s appearing with the President to make a joint statement. Of course, two days ago I was chased by a UFO, so I don’t know why anything should surprise me anymore."

Senator Reynolds was pretty much the patron saint of people like the ones there in camp. You know, guys that are big into the second amendment, small government, personal property rights, going back to precious metal-backed currency, that sort of thing. He and the President flung mud at each other from opposite sides of pretty much every issue.

Jex paced the floor. "Rhett, take these two to the medical tent, then after the broadcast make sure you get back here, I’m going to need your help for the tactical meeting.

Rhett grunted a "Yes, sir." and ushered us out of the tent.

Five makeshift campsites down was one of those sleek and monstrous RVs. It was running a ridiculously quiet generator to power a little satellite dish thing and a big screen flat panel TV that the owner had placed outside under the extra-wide awning.

Who has this kind of stuff in their RV?

A fair sized crowd was gathering around the TV, and everybody else was shuffling about to find their own way to watch or listen to the broadcast.

Nobody said anything, but Rhett, London and I naturally wandered over and joined the crowd at the monster RV and forgot all about the first aid tent.

On the screen a pair of haggard looking political analysts guessed at what was about to be said. Would it be a call to arms? Martial law? Another request to stay calm and head back to work?

Soon enough the President was announced.

The last time I had seen him on TV, he had looked more than just a little worn around the edges. Today he looked like he hadn’t slept or even changed clothes since then.

"My fellow Americans. This is the greatest nation on Earth. That is why the aliens came to us. Since their arrival a few days ago, they have unfortunately been met largely with violence, prejudice, and hatred."

Why does he even bother with lying about when they got here? It’s pretty clear they’ve been here a while.

"I could never be ashamed to be an American. I will always be proud of this great nation." He reached up and loosened his already loose and sweat stained tie. "However, I am greatly ashamed of the actions of the fringe groups that are attempting to stand in the way of what could be the strongest alliance this country has ever had."

A large number of the camp booed at the statement. The noise echoed around the camp.

"I do not believe they will give us many more chances for peace if we continue to be hostile. We must take action swiftly and confidently or way may be pulled into a conflict we do not want. I have just signed executive orders giving power to police and military to detain indefinitely anyone suspected of aggression toward the alien visitors."

"What the hell?" Said a nearby voice. "He can’t ‘executive order’ away our rights."

Somebody else chimed in. "We’re already in a conflict we don’t want, you bastard."

A number of other voices chimed in with angry comments. It was enough so that I could not hear what the President was saying.

It doesn’t matter. It’s just more of the same, anyway.

The President went on for another five or ten minutes. He did everything exept fall to his knees and plead with the American people to stop antagonizing the aliens. He said over and over how they simply want to be our friends.

After he was done begging, he closed with, "This is why I’ve invited Senator Reynolds to be here. I believe some of you may be more willing to listen to what he has to say. Thank you for your time, my fellow Americans, and God bless America."

A bitter murmur swept across the camp in the wake of the presidential speech.

A moment later, Senator Reynolds took to the podium. He didn’t look any better than the President. Nasty sweat stains marked his shirt and he didn’t even bother with a tie. His hair was in complete disarray and huge bags hung underneath his eyes.

He stood and stared at the camera for a full thirty seconds before speaking with a quivering voice. "I have often disagreed with the President. But today he is correct." He seemed to choke on the words. "We cannot afford to be hostile to the aliens."

The senator glanced around himself nervously and left an uncomfortable pause before continuing. "I do not believe in suspending constitutional rights, but in this case, sacrifices must be made."

The crowd collectively gasped as their favorite senator stabbed them in the back.

The senator looked down. The words coming out of his mouth clearly cutting him as deeply as anyone. "All aggression toward the aliens must be stopped now if we are to continue as a nation."

I could hear whispers floating about having sold out and being a traitor.

His hand shook as he wiped a batch of sweat from his forehead. A mumble that sounded something like, "I can’t do this." spilled from his lips. He stared at the ground for another fifteen seconds, then his demeanor changed. He stood up straight and glared into the camera. "The aggression must be stopped, or it must be stepped up. Perhaps the aliens aren’t as numerous or as powerful as they’d like us to believe. Perhaps it is time the American people fight back for real against an obviously hostile invader."

His face paled, but his voice stopped wavering.

"I can’t be silent anymore. My fellow Americans, much of your elected government is being held hostage. You must fight back while you still can. It sounds crazy, but I was abducted some time ago. They have threatened me as they have threatened-"

The senator’s left eye exploded from his head with a disgusting wet noise. His dead body slumped onto the podium then crumpled to the floor, his face leaving behind a trail of blood and gore.

A shiver shot down my spine and my knees felt weak.

London grabbed hold of my arm.

Rhett cursed.

A roar of fear and rage exploded from the crowd.

The television screen blanked for a second and then the station’s ‘Experiencing Difficulties’ graphic popped up.

Happy birthday to me.

I love getting comments here on the blog. It makes the world a little less lonely of a place. It helps motivate me to stop being lazy and write. Thank you to all of you who regularly leave comments. You guys are the best.

To encourage comments a while back I installed a “dofollow” plugin that removes the nofollow attribute tag from the links in the comment section. How should that encourage people, you ask? Well, when Google (& other search engines) is figuring out how to rank your site, it counts the number of links pointing to it. If a link has the “nofollow” attribute, then Google doesn’t count it. I’m fine with giving your site, dear reader, a little link love. I don’t even care if you use your keywords instead of your name. (Google likes that even better)

What I don’t like is when people come by and post something generic without ever reading a post. Quite often these comments smack of flattery, “Great post}! i know you are the best writer. your post is well written and i think i will bookmark this site and share to my friend .. have a nice day ” The trouble is that Most of the time it’s clear that the commenter never actually read anything.

Sometimes the comments are indeed amusing as well. My favorite so far has been, “I have downloaded and seen your attachment.” I’m not sure what exactly that was supposed to mean.

Sometimes the comment looks like a real comment, but further investigation shows that the commenter has merely cut and pasted a block from another comment. Several people have attempted to “plagiarize” DarcKnyt this way, because he always leaves such good comments. Kudos to DarcKnyt, and boo on you comment stealing jerks.

So here’s the deal – if you are just stopping by because you have a software tool that searches for “dofollow” blogs, make sure you at least read an entire post and then add to the conversation in the comments. As long as you are not linking to something distasteful, pornographic, or illegal, I’ll leave your link intact. If you just leave another, “this site is really good site. I found all of my needs of story from this site. this site has lots of information that i need.” Then I will mark your comment as spam and call you names behind your back, because you are a bum.

That is all.

Ok. I figured I should occasionally post something around here, so here’s an angry little flash fiction. I had the idea while watching a dirty child run amok at a local hamburger joint.

Anyway, next week I’ll be back to “Journey…”

Oh, and as the stuff on my blog is usually all ages, I’d better put up a language warning. WARNING: Strong language ahead.

Mother

Kevin gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and stared at his Chinese carry out. I would never treat a child that way.

The ratty haired pregnant woman jerked on the little boy’s arm again. “Come on, you little shit.”

The boy pointed a bruised arm at the McDonald’s sign again and cried. “Hungry.”

Kevin closed his eyes. That kid has to only be three or four. Right about where David would be.

Maybe when he opened his eyes, she’d be gone, and he could forget the sadness and anger that were boiling up his neck.

No such luck.

She parked it two tables down.

Two tables down.

A whole food court to choose from and the stupid cow sits two tables down from me.

The boy cried harder.

The woman slapped the kid across the face. “Shut up, you spoiled-ass brat. Mommy has business.”

When she spoke, Kevin could see her mouth chock-full of rotting teeth.

In fact, from her teeth to her stained clothes and sunken-in eyes, everything about the woman screamed “meth junkie.”

Why does she get to be pregnant? Why is it that a total waste like her can crank out kids? Kids that she won’t take care of and probably doesn’t even want. Shellie and I had to go through years of treatments and even then we lost our boy in childbirth.

A shifty weasel of a man appeared from out of nowhere and plunked a loaded Ziplock baggie on the table in front of the mother. “Why do you always bring the damn kid?”

She’s buying drugs? Kevin tried to look without being too obvious.

She leaned to the side, dug into her pockets and purse and pulled out a bunch of wadded up bills. “I got it all but one seventy five right now, but my disability comes in tomorrow and I’ll give you the rest then.”

The man scooped up the bag and rolled his eyes. “Natch don’t run no charity. Pay up or you don’t get shit.”

The mother slammed the bills on the table. “Come on, it’s only a hundred seventy five short.”

The drug dealer turned and headed for the door. “I don’t got time, bitch.”

Kevin watched her chase after the dealer, dragging the child along like a rag doll. He felt guilty that he had done nothing.

But what was he supposed to do? Kidnapping the boy in public was a good way to get arrested. He could call the police, but how long would they take? What would they do anyway? And it’s not like child protective services had agents to deploy at a moments notice. The best the authorities could ever do would be to bounce the kid around foster homes until he was eighteen. That’s not what the boy needed. He needed a home, one with real parents.

Kevin didn’t even think to clear his tray. He wasn’t really thinking at all. He hurried over to the ATM and didn’t even notice the seven dollar convenience fee. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too late and ran for the door.

He could hear the yelling before he even pushed open the exit. They hadn’t even made it thirty feet.

The addict mother was leaning over with her clenched fists behind her back. Her face was red and seemed tuning purple with her screaming. She also shook from head to toe like an angry Chihuahua.

Kevin could tell the greasy dealer was trying his best to look cool and unembarrassed despite the fact that there was a crazy pregnant lady’s screaming face not six inches from his own.

The boy cried and tugged at his mother’s leg.

She backhanded him without even looking down.

He fell onto his bottom, hung his head, and sobbed.

Kevin’s will set itself in concrete. This had to be stopped, now. He had no choice but to act. She was never going to hit that boy again.

He marched over and stepped directly between the woman and her drug dealer.

She slapped him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The dealer tried to push him away. “Yeah, what the hell, man? Can’t you see we’re busy?”

Kevin flared his nostrils and sucked in. “You need two hundred dollars right?”

She gave him a quick glance up and down then slapped him again. “I ain’t your ho, bitch.”

The dealer slid around to Kevin’s right. “Yeah, she ain’t your bitch.”

Kevin took it like a statue. “Not for sex. I’ll give you two hundred bucks for your son. You’ll never hear his complaining again, never have to drag him around or hit him while you try to take care of business, and you’ll have the cash you need.”

Her breath reeked of decay. “Buy the brat? Screw you. You ain’t funny. Go to hell.”

“I’m saying I’ll give you two hundred bucks and solve two of your problems.” Kevin dug the twenties from his pocket and held them out.

She stared with hungry eyes from the money to the greasy dealer and back again.

The dealer threw up his arms.

Kevin could have sworn that he actually heard the tiny gears in the druggie’s head grind to a halt.

She licked her lips.

He waved the bills. “Two hundred.”

Her sunken eyes widened.

He waved the bills again. “Two hund-”

She snatched the cash from his hand. “Fine, but he’s a damn brat.”

Kevin took a step back.

She didn’t even bother to look down at her son. “Scott, you go with him. He’s gonna get you your stupid little happy meal.”

The little boy just stared up at Kevin.

What did I just do? Kevin reached down and picked him up.

The mother turned away and oozed over to the dealer.

“Let’s go get you something to eat.” Kevin carried the boy back into the food court and wondered what exactly he was going to tell his wife.

Creating a Cover for Your CreateSpace Book.

Could you answer a question for me? If I used a free ISBN at a printer like lulu, and I later decided to have the same book printed elsewhere, would I still be allowed to use that ISBN, even though Lulu owns it, or would I have to get a different ISBN for the same book now?

The answer: If you are using Lulu or CreateSpace and you are using their free services, then you cannot take the ISBN with you if you get it printed anywhere else. They own the ISBN. If owning it is important to you (& you’re in the US), you can buy an ISBN through the upgraded services at Lulu, or you can go obtain your own. There’s a big discount if you buy more than one.

So if you do want to buy an ISBN straight from the “Manufacturer” you need to visit: https://www.myidentifiers.com

Again: buying two single ISBNs costs the same as buying a block of 10.

Note: Thanks to all who read, comment, and give helpful ideas. You guys are the best.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Chapter 35 – In The Tent

Then tent smelled of dusty old canvas, like it hadn’t been put up in ten years. It was a pretty big, twelve feet by sixteen feet or so and probably eight feet tall at the peak. There was a plastic folding table in one corner with a microphone, a laptop, and several pieces of electronic equipment. Chords spilled over the back and wound out under the wall of the tent.

Placed a few feet away from the far wall was another small folding table. Jex sat behind it on a camp chair. He was drawing with a pencil on what looked like one of the maps I had seen through the window at the hotel’s café.

He made a point of ignoring us while he scribbled some kind of message on the map. He then rolled it up, set it on his lap and looked up at us. His eyes were shrouded in dark circles.

“Oh good, you’re here.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my temper in check. His intentions might have been honorable, but this man was a thief and a liar. He had thrown up a roadblock when all I wanted to hurt the aliens and hurt them bad. I knew deep down that’s what Jex wanted, too. Only he wanted to be in charge of everything and get the glory.

London stepped around me and folded her arms with a harumph. “Where’s the virus you stole?”

Jex looked from London to me and back again. He breathed in and opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. He waited an uncomfortable moment then tossed up his hands. “I won’t lie to you. I took it, and for the reason I told you last night. I can’t trust you yet.”

Rhett shifted nervously from foot to foot. I don’t think he was really ready to hear Jex admit the theft like that.

Off in the distance wafted the drone of a helicopter.

I kicked the ground. “So you kick off the trust-building exercise by stealing my property in the middle of the night?”

“I didn’t invite you here to argue.”

“So why are we here?”

“Well, I’d like to give you two the chance to help out. And, if it comes to it and we do have to use the virus, I’d like you to be on the team-”

The tent door flew open and a purple haired woman popped in. “Sir, an Army Humvee just pulled up at the gate. The driver says he’s got a Captain Somebody-or-other that wants to speak with you. What should I tell the guards?”

Jex’s eyes widened for a moment. “Really? Escort him back here immediately.”

She’s too old to have purple hair.

The helicopter noise got so closer. It was apparent that there were at least two of them flying overhead. Within a few seconds they were so loud that we had to wait for them to pass by before we could here each other talk.

Jex turned his focus back to London and me. “So would you like to join us or not?”

London rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Now you want us to help?”

I folded my arms. “And we don’t exactly have any gear or food or anything. I mean, somewhere you’ve got her dirtbike, but it’s not terribly comfortable to sleep on.”

“I’ll make sure we can find stuff for you. We need every able bodied man we can get.”

London glared at him.

He nodded back. “And every angry redhead hottie.”

I guess the inflammatory radio host in him just couldn’t help himself.

London shook her head.

Jex ignored her.

“So, are you with us? And where do you think you’d be the most help?”

I wasn’t really interested in joining his little private army an more, but I wasn’t sure what other options we really had available at the time. “Well, I’m an emergency room nurse, and an EMT. She’s already proven herself to be a capable assistant.”

London spun and focused her glare on me.

“Perfect. Rhett, show them to where we’re setting up the medical tents and introduce them-”

A serious man in a crisp uniform swept into the tent. On his shoulder were two vertical bars. He ignored London, Rhett, and myself and walked right up to Jex.

“I’m Captain Dreyer of the United States Army. Let me just say I appreciate your fervor and zest in protecting our nation. However, I am here under orders to use my company of troops to assist in the disbanding of this militia that you’ve raised. Now I know you feel like you are acting as protectors, but your nation sees you as nothing more than a dangerous armed insurrection. I’ve come to make a personal appeal to you to disband without causing any more problems.”

Color flooded into Jex’s neck. “What makes you think we’ll just pack up and go?”

“Neither of us wants to be responsible for the spilling of American blood. Simple as that. And now the Army is here between you and the aliens.” Dreyer took a breath and his voice took a bitter edge. “And if the white house decides the aliens are a threat, we’ll be here and prepared to deal…”

Jex pounded a fist on the little table. “A threat? How many more terrorist strikes are they going to have to make before you can officially label them as enemy combatants? You’re not stupid, Captain. You know as well as I that they’re not here as friends or allies.”

“Things aren’t always as they seem, Mr. Jex. Don’t sell the U.S. Army short.”

London muttered something under her breath. I couldn’t understand it clearly, but it definitely involved a few words she couldn’t use if she were in her elementary school classroom.

“I’ll give you twenty-four hours to get moving.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “I’ll have someone listening to this frequency if you need any, well, if you need to speak with me.”

Twenty-four hours? Why not right now? What is he getting at?

Captain Dreyer turned back just before leaving the tent. “Oh, and I have to warn you. My entire company will be camped in front of the main entrance. It would be a really bad idea for you to try anything there.”

He put a hard emphasis on the word “there,” and then he was gone.

Everyone left in the tent was dumbfounded.

I scratched my head. “Did that sound to anyone else like he wanted us to attack, just somewhere other than the main entrance, and that he’s giving us twenty-four hours to do it?”

The massive Rhett nodded. “It kind of did.”

A smile crept across Jex’s lips.

The woman who was too old for bright purple hair came back in. “Sir, I just heard on the radio. Apparently the President and Senator Reynolds are holding a press conference. They’re due to go on within a couple of minutes on pretty much every TV and radio channel in existence.”