dream journal

shalmestere, I, and the entire Monty Python regular cast are all elite agents working for an international spy agency. As the dream opens, we're all gathered in a large meeting room watching a presentation by the administration. The room is dotted with redshirts loyal to the administration, and as the presentation unfolds it becomes clear why: there have been major budget cuts, and a lot of us elite agents are going to be laid off, furloughed, or pay-cut. Naturally, there's a lot of grumbling.

A cartoon circulates among the agents about the folly of pissing off such a group of people: "Here is a highly-trained assassin [with a picture of one]. Here is a bomb creation-and-disposal expert [picture]. Here is [insert a few more specialized job descriptions and their pictures]. Here is an agent demonstrating how to move a bomb harmlessly to outer space [picture of agent, wearing space suit and floating in zero-G, holding onto a redshirt and an administration tool, NOT wearing space suits, eyes popping out]."

There was another series of action after this, but I've lost it. Oh well.