"Did you see, Peru's president revokes civil war atrocities amnesty"...

A man can dream though... A man can dream. Image via Wikipedia... Is today's headline?"
Max looked up from his coffee.
 "No." He replied. I noticed that he was reading a print-your-own-headline novelty newspaper. It wasn't really surprising he hadn't seen seen any modern news, he was reading an article on how he, Max, had been elected President of Space.
 "PERU?"
A feeling of dread spread like water across my body, sinking into my clothes and dripping liquidy dread into the carpet. Putting down his newspaper, leaning on his fists as to shake his miniature coffee mug, Mr. Potato pushed his face closer to me. "PERU?" He demanded.
 "No. Poland. You misheard." I yelled. "Please don't start again."
But Mr. Potato was off. He'd met the foreign furniture guys in the dungeon yesterday - still holding, by the way - and had given them a good going-over, until he realised they were Venezuelan. Still, here we go again.
 "Bloody Peruvians!" He yelled. "With their trees! And Llamas! And those hats! Bloody hats. I want to deep-fry them! All of them!"
I sighed. Mr. Potato was really a very angry man. potato. man-potato? He has a little hat, that must count for something...
 Anyway, I'm off to look for a potato peeler. I've left Max in the kitchen, being lectured about how Peruvian water was far more lazy than other water. I could always boil them both. That might work.

The furniture is still here.

The London Dungeon. A type of dungeon. Image via Wikipedia

In fact, two delivery men arrived the other day to ask for it back. We know it's been wrongly delivered, they said, so can we have it back? They were straight to the point, and I admired that. I still locked them in my new, flat-pack dungeon though.

 The police came yesterday. They said they already had to ask about some furniture, and that also, two men from a delivery company had gone missing and had last been seen approaching my address, had I seen them? I said yes, they're in the dungeon. When the police went to look, I locked them in as well.

 The dungeon is only made of balsa wood and glue, so I doubt I can hold them for very long...

 Actually, I haven't fed them yet. They'll probably eat their way out. Don't know about the delivery men though, didn't seem to speak much English. I'm not sure if they even know they've been taken prisoner. They keep smiling, maybe they think it's some sort of kinky dungeon.

 The mistake I probably made was to hire those scantily-clad women to serve them drinks.