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Kilo Two Zero

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Kilo Two Zero (1994) again centres on Islamic terrorists threatening the peace and tranquility of our sceptered isle. Clunge pulls no punches with this blockbuster.


The Boss looked annoyed. He thumbed the operations file in front of him. Where was he? The sound of rubber soles on the highly bulled corridor told him he'd soon find out. There was a knock on the door. "Come!" In marched a trooper, snapped to attention and smartly saluted the deskbound colonel. "Where the fuck have you been? "You're late!" snarled the officer. "Sorry Boss! I've been down the ranges with Fiji Bob for a bit of cap busting. "You know the drill - keeping my edge and all that?"

Sergeant Terry 'Razor' McCabe was the Boss's favourite - almost like a son. There were those at 'H' who thought he actually was, and the shock of ginger hair was uncannily Boss-like. He was also the regiment's top CRW man. Anyone else would've been RTUd for keeping the CO waiting. Dressed in lightweights and pullover with regimental stable belt and beret, McCabe looked every inch the total professional.

The Boss smiled. "Anyhow, I've got a job for you. "A kebab shop in Leicester. "'Box' have got on to us. "They suspect there's a terrorist cell operating out of there. "All pretty low key at the moment, but it could go pear-shaped at any moment. "Here's the brief. "Read it and digest. "Oh, and get out of that party suit and get yourself down the Boathouse."

McCabe looked quizzical. "The Boathouse boss? "Have they finished refurbishing it yet? "Any why is this a Boat Troop job?" Colonel McDade looked up. "Yes McCabe, it's fully repainted - especially for you. "It's now in a fetching British racing green scheme... with some pretty curtains that the Wives' Club have knocked up. "In any case it's a wet insert, so Boats it is. "That'll be all. "Oh and Terry... try and make it a decent body count!" McCabe laughed. "Don't worry boss, I'll slot one for you too!" McCabe saluted and marched out. The Boss smiled. He was his best man. If McCabe couldn't pull this operation off then he might as well be Welsh.

The river Soar wound gently through the city, the evening sunlight dancing on the water in stark contrast to the depressing concrete nightmare that hid a million terrors. The 1000cc Evinrude® twin outboards barked in to life and the Gemini surged forward as McCabe opened the throttles to maximum. The boat sped down the river at breakneck speed. Clad in black and festooned with equipment and state of the art weaponry, McCabe was an imposing sight. He'd make the traitorous bastards pay for their seditious antics.

The sun was below the horizon and dusk settled in. McCabe throttled back and glided quietly to a halt. He could easily pick out his target, brightly lit against the darkening sky. A cursory reconnaissance through his NVGs revealed a packed eatery, the hapless customers stuffing their faces with some unhealthy options. A very unhealthy option was coming their way - a belly full of lead. McCabe laughed at the thought. They'd all pay for their meal... in full.

McCabe picked up the 66 and readied it for action, pulling the locking pin and extending the tube. The rocket launcher was now armed. He raised the foresight, took aim at the bustling shop front and gently squeezed the rubber trigger. A bright flash and a sound like ripping canvas told McCabe the missile was on its way. Its flight lasted seconds. The rocket tore through the shop window and smashed in to the rotating grill before exploding in an enormous fireball of shrapnel and pieces of half-cooked cow. McCabe let out a whoop of elation and punched the air. It wasn't over yet.

Terrified and bewildered survivors staggered out of the destroyed premises, their clothes aflame. Their screams of agony were cut short by a stream of 9mm delivered with deadly precision by MCabe's Heckler & Kock® MP5. McCabe emptied a full magazine in to the twitching heap of bodies before changing mags and hosing down the burning wreckage with another thirty rounds for good measure.

"Jobs a good un" chortled McCabe, "That'll fookin' learn 'em!" 'Box' would be happy with this result. McCabe nodded in appreciation at his handiwork and pressed the ignition button, The huge outboards roared back in to life and McCabe pushed the throttles to the gate. The Gemini sped off in to the night.


A rip-roaring actioner all the way. A non-stop roller coaster ride of cliches from cover to cover. A book you'll want to read never and never again.


Clunge rocks - Kerrang

Kebabtastic - Food & Drink

Clunge has excelled himself - Times Literary Review

McCabe is nailsest of the nailsest - Johnny Howard, ex-SAS

I await the screen version with great anticipation - Ross Kemp