"Mr. Blair, sir, your Defense Minister is here to see you."

"Splendid. Very well, very well. Send in the ol' chap."

"Shall I bring you some more tea, sweetcakes, and crisp snacks, sir?"

"Yes, yes, Ms. Farmingshire. Please bring me some of those Mummsycrumbles, Lemon Salt Tarts, Mr. Frumpleton's Flavorless Dunking Biscuits, chicken and mayonnaise- flavored vinegar crisps, and a haggis and lamb Hot Pocket if you will."

"Certainly, sir. The Defense Minister will be right in. Right on shed-djew-ool."

"Splendid!"

[The Defense Minister enters followed by Mrs. Farmingshire and a cart with the tea snacks.]

"Tony, ol' chap! How goes it here on Downing?"

"Well, Chester, the pants are a bit a toodle, if you know what I mean."

"Ha! Good show!"

"But sir, I'm afraid we must get down to business."

"Certainly, ye ol' hound! But first I insist you try one of these Mummsycrumbles!"

"Delightful! Are they the butter flavor?"

"Of course. So tell me, what does the Defense Ministry have for me today."

"Well, we just wanted to go over some of our red- flagged enemies of the Queen. Just some of the crazy buggers we've been keeping an eye on."

"Oh dear! They sound absolutely frightful! Let's get this over with."

"First off, we have this batty chap, Richard D. James. Here have a look at this CD."

"Splendid! What a bird on the cover, eh? Bloody nice knobs! I'd like to give her sheep a little shearing, if you know what I mean Ol' Chumeroo. A good ol' snoogering up the nethers."

"Well, sir, that is Richard D. James on the cover."

"Good Lord! I must lay off the gin in the morning. This fellow looks like a right sick bastard."

"Afraid so, my pal. Mr. James could be the craziest chap in the kingdom. The Queen is quite concerned. In the musical film for this ditty, Mr. James puts his devilish face on several bosomy bikini girls of Miami. They rub their globes in a frightfully un- Queenlike manner. I'm afraid it made me so sick I couldn't even eat my cow tongue and blood pudding lunch."

"Good dear lord. How frightful."

"Indeed."

"What does the music sound like? Please tell me the Union Jack has a Marilyn Manson on our hands."

"No, no, sir! Of course not! Let the Americans worry about their goth rap."

"Good lord, I hope we never see that rap under our flag! That Tricky fellow is bad enough!"

"Richard D. James refers to himself as the 'Aphex Twin.' He might just program robots to make his music. He's quite dangerous. Listening to his music is like stepping into the mind of complete psychopath. It's dark, it's twisted. Here, listen."

[The Defense Minster puts on the CD. Mrs. Farmingshire re-enters to clear up the snacks.]

"Ooh! Is this Aphex Twin, sires?! Me and the girls like to hit the pubs, lager up the ol' snooker, take some E, and get freaky with some blokes on the dancefloor to this music."

"Goodness, Tony, Ol' Chap! It's worse than the Ministry thought! Richard D. James' brainwashing has even infiltrated 10 Downing Street!"

"Bugger off, ye stuffy fart. He's fockin' brilliant."

"Mrs. Farmingshire! Please! The language."

"You Labour Party blokes don't know bollocks about music. Listen to this "Windowlicker" track! It sounds like the bloody future. Aphex Twin's music is of a fockin' enigmatic origin. You can't tell if machine, man, alien, or bloody ghosts are making this beautiful noise. The beats are unlike anything in music!"

"That's why the Defense Ministry is so concerned. This man is clearly a dangerous maniac."

"Well, sirs, he is on a different level than the rest of us. Listen to this last track, "Nannou." It starts off with what sounds like the gears in an antique wind-up toy shifting speeds. Then that builds into a skittering percussion beat. Wait for the chimes and xylophones. It's beautiful. Like a breeze blowing through a Kyoto temple. Like samurai sneaking slowly across fallen petals to avenge a lover's death. It's haunted. I'll tell you blokes, it's much better than those Yanks and their Tortoise could ever hope to craft. He systematically makes Photek and Autechre seem obsolete with this one bloody EP."

"Let me ask you this, Mrs. Farmingshire. Will the kids and tots vote for me if I like this music?"

"Mr. Blair, of course! Those fat Tory sheep- shaggers couldn't touch you with the youth vote! This is the most innovative music out there! You could be hipper than Robbie Williams."

"Right, then. I'll let this freak make his music. Then I'll pretend to like it. But actually, I do kind of like it. The first track reminds me of porno, Run DMC's 808 beats, and Michael Jackson being ginsu'ed. That's not such a bad thing. Then at the end, an epileptic drumbeat accelerates well past grand mal into what sounds like shifting guitar chords. Fockin' brilliant! It's haunting, but pretty swell!"

"Mr. Blair, sir. The Ministry will keep a good eye on this Richard James and let him continue for your tenure's sake."

"Good show! Now let's have that haggis and lamb Hot Pocket!"

-Brent DiCrescenzo