The Man came to visit me last week...

That's right. The Man...

He who maketh our lives a misery by imposing rules we must adhere to and boundaries that we must not cross. He of absolutes and certainties. He who rules with dark and sinister forces. He who watches us via CCTV, records our communications and has us by the balls...

He came in the guise of an elderly gentleman in sensible shoes, corduroy trousers, shirt and tie. At once I saw through this cunning attempt to look human. No normal member of society wears shoes, socks and corduroy exactly the same shade of brown.

His face, slightly ruddy from a lifetime of tanking booze to kill the pain of being a Judas to The Grand Whazoo, was covered in a grey flecked beard. A sure sign of Evil.

"Mr Douglas?" The Beast spake, sulphurous fumes emitting from his cakehole.
"Who's asking?" I enquired.
"My name is Man, James Man, I'm here from (Company name removed on advise of lawyer) and I'm here to pole you." Baal replied, flashing an identity card.
"Pole me? What did I do? Don't I get to plead my case in court?" I enquired, panic taking over.
"I think you misunderstand me. Poll as in survey."
"Oh, right. Err, you better come in then..."

The Dark Lord sat on my leather recliner and made himself comfortable.

"So..." I thought, "That's his game is it? Sneak up on me while I am somewhat stoned, take the comfy chair and poll me when I least expect it... Well, I'm onto him."

Beelzebub took out a laptop and began punching keys (to no doubt summon his haxor hoards to begin their wireless take over of all my electronic equipment) so I bolted for the kitchen (under the pretense of making a cup of tea) and killed the power to the house by jamming a screwdriver into the toaster and pushing the lever down. Blammo! went the toaster as I jumped backwards in surprise.

I returned to the living room to find Moloch pretending to be making himself comfortable. I suspected that while I had been away he had been planting devices to enable remote viewing of my house but couldn't spot any visible signs of anything having been moved. "He's Good..." I thought as I sat on the sofa and made eye contact with him.

I was determined not to show any weakness, lest he pounce and suck my soul out through my eyeballs, so I stared into his ice pit eyes and told him (via telepathy) that I wasn't any ones bitch.

As the Demogorgon fired off questions I smoked a joint and answered as best as I could without revealing that I knew his plan. He didn't seem to notice so I began sliding in questions about him.
"Travelled far?" I enquired.
"Not really, I was in Fife earlier today." It answered.
"I'll bet you were... I always said that lot were closer to the devil than to god" I said.
Belphegor looked at me quizzically, obviously to hide the fact that he knew that I knew who he really was, and shifted slightly in his seat.

"How was the weather?" I asked, hoping he would make a mistake and say "Firey with a brimstone tinge to it..." instead of the standard answer of "Pissing down."
"A bit dreek." He replied, throwing in the Fifer word for wet to further his disguise.

"Are you from Fife yourself?" I questioned.
"Originally no, but I've lived there for almost 30 years now." The Vengeful One replied.
"Where are you from originally?" I posed.
"New Zealand."
"North or South Island?"
"South."
"North South Island or South South Island?"
"South South Island."
"South East South Island or South West South Island?"
"South West South Island."

"When you emigrated you didn't travel far."
"I beg your pardon." The Demon answered, attempting to look puzzled.
"Dunedin." I said.
"I'm not sure I follow."

I knew I had him.

"I take it you know of the town of Dunedin, after all you did grow up around there." I stated.
"Yes, I grew up just outside of Dunedin. But what's that got to do with anything?" It asked.
"And you moved to Fife which is just outside Edinburgh, or Dunedin as it was known centuries ago." I said.
"I had no idea Edinburgh was called Dunedin." It claimed.

My trap had sprung the demon.

"No-one from Fife doesn't know that Edinburgh was called Dunedin!" I shouted as I reached for the cricket bat I use as a doorstop.

The, supposedly, aged demon suddenly sprang from the seat and made a break for the front door as I scrambled for my kevlar helmet and loudhailer. The Demon struggled with the front door as I shook the cricket bat menacingly and bellowed through the loudhailer. "YOU HAVE NO POWER HERE DEMON! BACK TO YOUR PIT I SAY!" I yelled, protecting myself from surprise attack by jabbing towards the demon with the fat end of the cricket bat.

Suddenly the door to my flat relented and The Black Lord fled with the agility of a teenager. I gave chase along the landing as it leapt the first flight of stairs in a single bound. "BE OFF FOUL WRETCHED MONSTER!" I shouted, gesturing with the cricket bat. "COME BACK HERE AND I SHALL DANCE IN YOUR BLOOD!" I continued as the demon flew effortlessly down the flights of stairs and out of the stairway door.

I dived headlong back into my hallway and kicked the front door shut with a trailing leg. I sprung to my feet and made for the living room window. Outside the demon was looking up at me so I whipped open the window and let loose with as many curses as I could think of.

"A POX UPON YOU AND YOUR DEMONIC SPAWN!" I yelled through the loudhailer.
"MAY YOUR SEED FALL ON BARREN GROUND AND YOUR BALLS ROT LIKE PEACHES IN THE SUN!" I continued.
"FUCK OFF OUT OF HERE OR I'LL FORCE-FEED YOU THE BLACKENED RAISINS YOU HAVE THE CHEEK TO CALL TESTES!" I yaulped.
"BE GONE FROM THESE GROUNDS FOR THESE ARE THE HOLY LANDS OF THE GRAND WHAZOO! I shouted as the demon ran for his car.

I don't think he'll be back.