Log entry 26/9/97
Shore Leave

	Ever so often one has to get off the boat, get the legs moving on them shaky grounds ashore. Quite some weeks have passed since I last trod the earth of this strange island called "Insel der Seligen" by the locals. No decent bar in the area, though I do recall our last sojourn and a short road they call "Bermuda Triangle", where one is supposed to be able to find a somewhat stiff drink. So I'm on my way. Unfortunately the road is blocked by some locals, yelling something bout foreigners. I shove my weight through them, only to find myself on a larger square that is even more crowded. They got a guy up on stage talkin himself into a frenzy; ugly guy with lots a scars round his face. Poor bastard, I'm thinking, must have gotten himself in the way of some knives early on in life; probably has a hard time findin himself a Doris, must be why he is in such a frenzy. Fancy gotta keep movin. That's right - there it is just across the square, not too far now and I'll be able to disinfect them tapeworms in my belly; bet they can't hardly wait. Now I see that it must be a political rally tryin to entertain me, cause they got big posters of the ugly guy all over the streets; they retouched him though, takin the scars away. Also lotsa Billys in riot gear. Some yokel yells something my way, I tell him to speak plain English or get the fuck outta the way. Gotta be nice, if you're in a foreign country ya know. He doesn't seem to like me, neither do his friends. Five of them are moving towards me, mouthing off again. They won't listen to my reasoning, are tryin to surround me. As I start lookin for an exit, some loud noise erupts from the stage, high pitched, nasty, hurtin the ears. It seems to take all the attention of my friends here as well, they are pointin at some window up on a building, where I see an old satellite dish. Just as I ask myself whether they are really admiring such backwards technology and start wondering about the marketing possibilities, I get it. It's the dish that's causing the shrieking noise, only being fed through the stage mike and leaving not too much fun for the political freaks on the street. I ain't completely stupid either and do take advantage of this welcome distraction, taking one of my friends here and shoving him into the alley, where I can give him a severe beating before finally gettin on towards my well deserved piece of Scottish. Always beware of the local yokels! Malt A. Lone
	Tactical Media