The Battle for Cold Mountain - Tony Tick vs. The Internet Whore


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April 7th 2008
Published: April 7th 2008
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The Battle for Cold Mountain - Tony Tick vs. The Internet Whore 13/02-14/02/08




A few years ago, a movie by the name of Cold Mountain came out. I never saw it, mainly because it stars Renee Zellwegger, a woman of astonishingly little talent, who's only true skill appears to shaping her lips to perfectly imitate a tight, puckered arse. I'm guessing somewhere within this film, there is a mountain. I'm assuming that this mountain is a little nippy, perhaps containing features such as snow and icy winds, and that the residents of said mountain are frequently required to wear several layers of thick, warm clothing. I don't know where the film was set, or which mountain it was that kept relations frosty. All I know is, it can't have had shit on Tam Dao, without doubt the coldest, harshest environment I have ever encountered. This is the shocking account of our two nights on Tam Dao; a violent tale of heartbreak, anger, pain and extortionate internet prices. This is the film Cold Mountain could, and should have been. In a world without Zellwegger's, in a galaxy several months ago...


This is the story of one man, one mountain; one NFL jacket that binds them all. One epic battle that will echo in eternity. His greatest challenge yet. Will he survive? Will his legendary kung-fu stand up to the hideous power of the most dangerous opponent he's ever faced?
Tony Tick vs Internet Whore - in cinemas from Friday

Early evening. The bus pulls to a stop. Tony Tick and his legendary Real Gap Warriors (RGW) step out, weapons at the ready, quivering; poised. The air is still. Nothing moves. There is no sound. They take tentative steps forward, then enter the hotel. Clearly, some kind of evil is a afoot. The temperature is icy. The RGW are shocked, and chilled to the bone. Zoe, whose special power allows her to wear levels of clothing six times greater than any ordinary man can take, has never faced such conditions. Nine layers, and still she is unbearably cold. What kind of witchcraft is this? Who's vile black magic could cause such pain and misery?

Tony Tick's face is drawn in a solemn frown. He has heard of such a place, a legendary mountain of unspeakably low temperatures - a land free of all forms of central or portable heating. A land barren and desolate enough to quieten even the bravest of souls. Straight away, the team come under the spell. Several are forced into purchasing hats and scarfs with scant regard for bartering, or personal style. Marianne the Bi-Linguist is hit the hardest. Her hat is clearly designed for a child, yet she appears to wear it proudly. The Magic Man is next to fall. He cloaks his magic fingers in cheap gloves, and dons a hat emblazoned with the word "Dylon".

Some give up completely, and turn to drink. Gregg the Intellectual performs acts of staggering stupidity. He and Dr. Boom-Boom step back out into the wasteland. The Magic Man leads a search party to find them, but it is too late. They are found sitting by a fire with a group of local peasants, also sheltering from the big freeze. Their powers have been drained by too much rice wine. The Magic Man prepares a potion of snake wine, but this too contains high levels of alcohol, and only sends the group spiraling deeper into drunken confusion and dejection.

The Intellectual and Dr Boom-Boom are left to fend for themselves as the others return to the hotel to re-group. As they settle down for dinner and some stirring words of wisdom from Tony Tick, Gregg returns. Clearly his brain has been damaged by the cold, and in a foolish act normally reserved for a village idiot, he accepts a challenge from Trung the Sexual Predator to eat a whole chili. His pale complexion is not built to withstand such extreme levels of hot and cold, and his face erupts in a sticky mess of mucus, drool and salty tears. Later, befuddled with alcohol, he will jump from a balcony, injuring his leg. Tony Tick looks on and shakes his head. What a fucking dick.

The night draws to a close. Most of the RGW retire to their quarters. Tony Tick, however, will not sleep. He will not rest whilst there is villainy afoot, and he stands watch; alert, attentive, nostrils flared for signs of danger. Finally, The Intellectual and Dr Boom-Boom return. They are wounded, but still fit for battle. Rest, my weary warriors. Rest, for tomorrow we will trek into the belly of the beast, and root out her rotten evil once and for all. Rest. Rest. Tomorrow, we ride to war.

Day two. The group strap on their weapons, and follow their local guide up the hill. They have a choice - take the steps and stay on the path, or deviate through the treacherous jungle. The group is divided. Half choose the steps, whilst the braver plunge headfirst into the tangled web of trees. They walk for less than an hour, and then the trail goes cold. They emerge at the summit. They stop in their tracks, and stare. It cannot be. Some new, fresh hellion has been at work. First, they take the warmth. Then, they take away the view. The warriors were expecting something special, something to make coming out to this godforsaken land worth their while. They expected lush, green hilltops, tree canopies, valleys, and snow-capped mountain tops. What they get instead in a telecommunications tower; rotten, black and clotted with pollution.

They approach with caution. The entrance, a black hole leading into who-knows what, stands before them. The Magic Man freezes. He senses something. Two twin shafts of light, flickering within. His senses are sharp to this kind of danger. He has faced this enemy before. The hell hound creeps slowly forward, snarling. It's master follows close behind, but they do not attack. They recognise the steely look in Tony Tick's eyes. They know they are outnumbered and out gunned, so they sit close by and watch. The group pause for lunch, but the bony, sinewy chicken does little to lift their spirits. Tony Tick steps forward. In the manner born of a true leader, he produces Choco-Pie, and the groups' energy slowly ebbs back in.

The trek is over. The soul, solitary reason for traveling to Tam Dao, and suffering the unforgiving cold, has passed in less than 3hours. Lesser men might question the point of it all. These lesser men do exactly that. And so to the question. The question that holds the key to it all. What exactly do you do in place that has nothing, in a town that is nowhere, in a hat that says "Dylon"? Drink is not the answer. Not this time. No, the brave warriors must find another path, another activity to pass the time. The answer is the Internet.

Many have set out on such a quest in Tam Dao. So far, none have had success. Dr Boom-Boom, The Intellectual and The Magic Man set off on their journey, determined to find what none have before them. At first, they seem to stumble right across it. The sign outside the hotel clearly says "Internet" - this is no mistake. They venture inside, stirring a villager in his bed within. "There is no internet here, noble travelers" he imparts in solemn tones. But what about the sign? The sign, it clearly says - "No internet!". The three send off a volley of abuse to cover their tracks as they hastily retreat.

Then, a little further down the track, another sign. This time, they are more cautious. Inside, the result is the same. They decide to use diplomacy rather than insult the mountain dweller, and are given directions to a possible location for the legendary inter-web. With renewed vigor, they set off. At the bottom of the trail, they come across a small shack. Their collective hearts miss a beat as they see the notice. They step quietly, not sure of what lies within. Then, they see her. A small, simply dressed woman, she shuffles out of the shadows, hands outstretched in welcome. "We wish to use the world wide web, old woman". She leads them into the back, to a single computer terminal, and invites them to be seated. Their eyes are wide. Their pulses race. Could it be they have finally stumbled on the fabled treasure of old? Dr B is the first to log on. The other sit, hardly daring to breath.

"Well?" they implore. "It's soooooo fucking slow." Hopes are dashed, hearts are broken. This is indeed the internet of Tam Dao, but the legend neglects to tell one thing; it's really, really, really shit. After a painful ten minutes spent logging into hotmail, Dr. B relents, and The Magic Man takes a seat. "This is so fucking shit," he says, wise and to the point as always. Another ten minutes of intense frustration pass. One or two emails are opened. There is no time for replies to be sent. The Intellectual is crushed. He has come so far for his holy grail, and now cannot even bring himself to look upon the low-resolution screen. "Let's fucking go, warriors."

They begin to step out, and the old woman appears before them again, this time somehow larger, more imposing. "How much?" they ask. She pauses, and looks them over. He eyes dart from face to face, her tongue flickers like a viper. "10,000 dong". "10,000 fucking dong? Are you insane?" This is a bullshit price. The warriors know it, and the old woman knows it. In Yen Bai, or Hanoi, the internet costs around 3000 or 4000 dong per hour. For a third of the time, the old wench is charging more than double the price. What a fucking whore.
The Magic Man is apoplectic with rage. He takes out a 5000d note, and places it in the palm of the old woman. "It's that, or fuck all." He storms out. The other two are more wary of their opponent. They can sense her strange, witchy powers. The Intellectual pays her another 2000d, and then they all leave, scarred and broken after the ordeal.

She watches them leave with hooded eyes. They slink away, beaten, tails between their legs. She lets out a low, hollow cackle. "Fools. They thought they could come and surf the net with impunity. They thought it would be medium to high speed, that I'd provide quality of service and value for money. They could not have been more mistaken."

She sees movement out of the corner of her eye. She freezes, and turns slowly. She recognises the small, balled frame. She sees the flash of his silver jacket, and she knows. "So, you have come at last."

Tony Tick steps forward, hair blowing in the wind, eyes fixed firmly on the Internet Whore. He curls his fists and cracks his knuckles. She lets out a hiss, venomous spittle dripping from her fangs. "Your kung fu is no match for me, Tony Tick."

He says nothing, for words do not become him. He must fight this cantankerous, tight-fisted old tart, and if the honor of him and his warriors is to be restored, he must kick the living shit out of her. They circle. In the doorway of the whores' liar, her dogs snarl and snap. Tony Tick is unmoved. Suddenly, she pounces, firing a deadly spell that causes Facebook to load twenty times slower than the normal speed. Tony Tick springs into a forward roll, then spins, kicks, and punches. She recoils, hurt. "You fucking bastard!" She attacks again, forcing Tony Tick to pay her 20,000 for only half an hour of internet use, leaving him winded, short of small change, down but not out.

"You think I can't recover from prices like that? You are wrong, old woman!" He tries to stand, but she pounces again, suspending his Hotmail account and blurring his vision with pornographic pop ups. He collapses, blood spurting out of a dozen different wounds. She hovers over him, savoring the moment. Just as she prepares to strike, a mighty cry rings out. She turns, startled.

"Unhand him, Internet Whore. Your reign of high-priced terror is at an end." Magic Man, Dr B and the Intellectual stand, united, facing the whore. "We foiled you in your evil plan. We only paid less than three quarters of your internet price, and, when you take into account the strength of the British Pound and the current exchange rate, that still only comes to around 22p for a half hour session, a very reasonable rate where we come from."

The Internet Whore recoils. A bright white light shoots out from behind her eyes, and she lets out a blood-curdling scream. "Noooooooooo! With a monopoly in this environment, I could have charged so much more! I am defeated!"

Her flesh cracks and crumbles, her blood boils, and she soils herself. The Internet Whore melts back into the earth from wench she came. Tony Tick stands, proudly looking over his band of warriors. They have fought well. They may have been exploited and ripped off by a feeble old woman, but they come from a rich, western country, where prices are high and moral is always low. They have learned a valuable lesson - that no matter how cold it is, no matter how negative you feel, and no matter how much they charge you, always remember where you are, and how much worse it would all be if you were at home. You're in Vietnam, no.1. The mountain is cold, and the internet is shit, but there's no Renee Zellwegger. So take some comfort form that.



























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7th April 2008

What ever it is....
bring me some back!

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