The slacker ninja chef

The previous story has catapulted Korup to a legend of mythically inconsequential proportions and he has been receiving imaginary fan mail by the non-existent shipful.

There has been wild speculation about the whereabouts of this character in the present time and expeditions have been planned to meticulous detail to locate the fellow wherever he may be, only to be canceled at the last minute because of utter pointlessness. However, since we here at The Sentimental Turnip are not constrained by any notions of rhyme or reason, we went the whole hog and located Korup Tweener.

Here is the schocking truth that will make you sit up and yawn. Dare you believe it?

The president of the IOC in 2020, the wildly popular, the much-admired, envied, ridiculed, loved, hated and ignored, the sensational Korup Tweener, the man called "the dude" by a small number and called "who?" by the rest is, in 2004, merely a mac-and-cheese and peanut-butter-and-jelly-sanwich-maker. He prefers to refer to himself as a cordon bleu mac-and-cheese arrangeur, but we know that, in addition to being all of the above, he is a pompous and pretentious moron.

We delved a bit more into his past. He has never been able to keep a job more than a month and was at a loose end in May. Last week, he tapped into the old boys network of Farthunder High where he graduated from fifth-grade with honours and the accompaniment of cherry bombs. The grapevine informed him that his friend, confidante, alter-ego and fellow awesome-dude from the fifth-grade, Ashkent Erik, was on the lookout for a chef to prepare mac-and-cheese at his newly acquired restaurant.

Korup did not have a better old boys network to tap into because his school and he had had a mutual no-hard-feelings divorce after he completed grade five. The school had attempted to teach Korup negative numbers in grade six. He had realized that this new knowledge could only help him to tally losses and was therefore useless from a business perspective.

From that day, he had refused to believe in negative numbers in the same way that other people refuse to believe in ghosts, and this attitude had finally led to irreconcilable differences (get it? get it? get it? we are awesome - yay for us!), followed by an audit and the parting of ways.

As he learned from his friends in successive years that they were being taught irrational numbers, and then imaginary numbers, Korup had patted himself on the back with a self-praising back-patter on getting out of that hotbed of insanity called Education and its specific manifestation in Farthunder High.

We arrived at the restaurant and glanced around. It had a medieval-Disney-Shakespeare fastfood theme and was called MacDuck. On one wall was a giant poster of shorts-clad mice jousting in tights and armour with seven gentlemen of below-average height. From the opposite wall, a bald man with an obscenely ostentatious collar mulled over various options in a thought bubble beside his head, "To see or not to see. To free or arrest thee. Use Brie or use Chutney. Give me Liberty or Give me Lakhani." A greenish statue with a thorny crown looked on coquettishly at him from one side, while Patrick Henry glared at him in perpetual outrage at the almost-plagiarism.

Into the MacDuck, Korup had inveigled himself using his friendship with Erik and gotten promoted to the title of le grande pinata in a few short weeks. This didn't mean anything, because a chef was allowed to write any title on his paper hat, but Korup still allowed himself some pride at having thought of it.

Our futuristic feature from last week has grabbed this manic attention-seeker from his life of idyllic and cheesy obscurity and placed him at the helm of fabulous (Dictionary meaning: fictitious) intrigues and wild affairs of derring-do and chivalry with no beginning to them.

We are trying to convince Korup to take out time from his busy schedule of plotting raids of the wine cellar and the mock chastity belt that hot short waitress, Tipayi had been saddled with, to answer fan mail and dispense some of his limited gyan to our readers.

Mr Korup is asking for a burger and fries for his time but we are trying to restrict his demands to the burger since we are craving some fried carbs ourselves. Unlike other members of the press who enjoy expense accounts and houris to pander to their every whim, we have to pay for our lunch ourselves, so a little fries-related graft in job-related expenses is quite acceptable, we feel.

A breakthrough in negotiations is expected in a week and we will get back to you next Saturday with reports from this rather boring and unexciting event.