spark up! exclusive: bp (blow-pipe) unlimited - the facts behind the fuck-ups

at the core of one of their trademark unsubtly-synchronized damage-limitation exercizes, the british mainscream media are trotting out one of their sloppiest stories ever: how the bp oil-spill has polluted the anglo-american 'special relationship' - you know, what with bp being a 'british' company 'n all. well, well...i'm sure that my esteemed 'n educated readers (tom and dick) will have spotted straight-off that bp plc is, in reality, a multi-national enterprise which trades shares on stock-markets around the globe, and, after a cursory blink at the company's wikipedia entry, they will have realized, like i, that supernova bp is a concern native to iran - a fact which may go an awful long way towards explaining president obama's current hostile relationship with this slimy shower's board of directors, despite their generous donations to democratic party funds, and the fact that roughly 40% of the shareholders are americans (the other 60% being split 40:20 between britons and penguins respectively). to be fair, this ownership-profile reveals bp as the mother-cunt-fucking epitome of the incestuous relationship between the united states and great britain. anyway, even though bp's tax-return is basically paying the guy's wages, obama still persists with the view that the blotch formerly known as the anglo-persian oil company is actually a british sub-branch of al qaeda - a view which, as it turns out, is totally incorrect.

as regular spark up! readers will undoubtedly have guessed, the origins of the deepwater horizon cowboy-plumbing extravaganza are not to be found in iran, nor in alaska (where bp last dumped), nor indeed in bp's super-downsized health and safety department (which is rumoured to consist of an ancient and yellowing no-smoking notice informally blu-tacked to the door of a deserted shack located someplace in death valley, california), but are to be discovered on mr obama's very own doorstep, in downtown kingston, jamaica, at the official residence of president spudus of the unknown underworld. spark up! special investigators have ascertained that the strange fuse of occurrences, which alledgedly lit the explosion in the gulf, began when the president was on vacation in miami, florida, and elected to pull into an amoco (bp) gas station with the simple and honest intention of tanking-up his swanky customized sports-utility-vehicle (bumper force one) with some of their high-grade merchandise. it apparently all kicked-off when, president spudus, being the man of breeding that he is, decided it appropriate to compliment the somewhat over-qualified lady-cashier upon the amplitude of her burgeoning bosoms - however it instantly transpired that the beleaguered buxomized black beauty did not require further endorsement of her upholstery beyond the 1088 lovingly crafted commendations which she had already received on that very day alone, and reading the premonitions in his palm's-eye, brazenly grabbed his bills (to pre-empt premature palpitation), but blankly refused to give him the nectar points he desired on his bp ultimate club key tag, a situation which distressed the president greatly, as he was very fond of collecting the maximum possible number of loyalty points for his account.

on returning to his homeland, the president retired to his conical office and pondered the irritating incident which had cast a shadow over his break in the subject states - and upon reflection, he decided that, he had, in all likelihood, over-stepped the mark on the breast-front, and had, in all ignorance, probably breached local custom and traditional protocol regarding such occasions, and holding this thought firmly in his head, the president took it upon himself, following all the correct procedures and channels, to contact the chief executive of bp, make full his apology and, in the process, hopefully get his nectar points re-instated. as one would expect, when dealing with a person of such lowly status as mr tony hayward, the commuting time for emails was rather lengthy, nevertheless, after a few months, the president was eventually rewarded with a reply - unfortunately, the language of the message was rather rude, and addressed neither the offended bust-matter, nor the summarily withheld nectar points. the president, being a reasonable and mild-tempered fellow, made one last attempt to resolve the cultural misunderstanding, and despatched a final proposition, wherein he detailed that, if the traumatized lady in question would care to accept, by way of apology, an expensive candlelit dinner for two at a classy oceanside miami grille, he would be quite agreable to receiving one of those jazzy green 'n yella bp t-shirts as commensurate compensation for his elusive nectar points - particularly as the garment's colour scheme reminded the president of his own national flag. tragically, mr hayward plumped to respond in the most brusque of manners - opining that he didn't 'give a fancy-fuck about some two-bit amoco attendant's humongous hooters' or how they felt, and also ventured to suggest that the logo-design of the shirt would not 'show off' the president's 'delightfully dark skin tone' to its 'best advantage'. naturally, as readers can only imagine, the president was devastated by the chief executive's etiquettical cataclysm, but chose, in that peculiar jamaican way, to keep his thoughts to himself (namely, that mr hayward's public relations advisor would definitely benefit from rapid retraining from the contents of a mac-10 machine-pistol magazine). i daresay i need hardly mention that, on the following morning, the president took out his speedboat for a long leisurely fishing-trip, happened, during his cruise, upon a conveniently sited semi-submersible offshore exploratory drilling rig (owned by bp), stopped to nyam on his jerk-chicken lunch, got into jovial conversation with some of the oilfield-workers on the platform, and carelessly flicked the butt of a blazing spliff down the main drillshaft. the rest, i believe, is history - and quite a costly mess.

for the reasons outlined above, i would explain to mr obama, were i ever to have that extremely dubious pleasure, that 99% of britons have about as much in common with bp plc as they have with a suitcase jammed-out with 100 billion dollars' worth of semi-hard us currency. furthermore, i sincerely hope that this unfortunate little turn of events will not deter michelle from doing t with the queen, as t says he always enjoys these parties immensely. as for the upcoming soccer match between the usa and england, i trust and pray that junior ball-boy cameron picks the football out of the net less times than chief ball-boy obama - because, as an englishman, but a fairly flippant soccer fan, i deeply resent obaman-cia interference in the political process of the country where i have washed up. spark up's prediction? that the special relationship and bp have suffered a fatal farcical stroke of rotten luck.