I’ve finally returned from living on Michael Caine’s 1000 acre tea plantation in Ceylon, and except for that whole tsunami business and a few other wrinkles, it kicked major ass. Lots of exotic birds, for one! Joey the Intern and I pretty much had the run of the place because Michael was always busy starring in movies and stuff. He’s such a talent. Very creative.

When MC was around, he, Joey and I spent our days writing one act plays and performing them for the native children. It was during one of these plays, in which Joey was portraying a talking cat named Lil’Pepper that the native children started worshipping him as a god.

From then on, wherever Joey went, the native children followed, offering him a wide range of local fruits and nuts and anointing his feet with palm oils. It was cute at first, but got increasingly creepy. Unaccustomed to the attention, Joey’s ego began to swell. Soon, fruits and nuts would no longer satisfy him, and Joey began demanding freshly butchered meats and the affection of virgins.

Now Michael Caine is a great host—that whole English hospitality thing really shone through—but for every virgin smearing palm oil on Joey’s fluttering, bird-like chest, that’s one less person tending to the rigorous daily demands of a 1000 acre tea plantation. Understandably, something had to give.

MC had just finished starring in a London stage biopic of Stevie Ray Vaughn when he returned to find Joey ordering a virgin to slaughter a calf in the observatory. Now if you have any understanding of MC’s passion for astronomy and his respect for the mysteries of the cosmos, you’d know that as far as he’s concerned, such behavior is absolutely unacceptable on his 1000 acre tea plantation. With the agility of Ceylonese panther, MC grabbed a brass telescope and smashed Joey’s femur. I will never forget the sound of Joey’s thighbone shattering, reminiscent as it was of a Greyhound bus driving full speed through a Pottery Barn. Joey went down, but not before he let out some unholy tribal yelp of clicks and clucks.

He was summoning the children.

In the space of time it took Tom Cruise to destroy his career on Oprah, the observatory was filled with tiny heathens, creeping like a swarm of wingless Ceylonese tea hornets towards a shuddering Michael Caine.

Great god, right there in front of my unbelieving eyes, the children devoured Michael Caine!

Who knew sixty rows of malnourished baby teeth could do such swift and complete damage? When they had finished their unholy repast, only a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses lay where Michael Caine once stood on the observatory floor.

As thirty pairs of sinful brown eyes slowly shifted their gaze to me, I knew the blissful nine months I had spent living on Michael Caine’s 1000 acre tea plantation were over. I lunged for Joey’s prone body, and despite his demonic shrieks demanding that I leave him among his people—the only people who had ever treated this hideous little man with anything but malice and scorn—I slung him over my shoulder like a sack of tea leaves and ran straight through the night to the seaport, Joey cursing my soul every heavy step of the way.

It was time to board a clipper ship and sail back to Los Angeles, The Big Glitter Bowl, The Stardust Rodeo, and reclaim my rightful station in life as a Television star. It is a new adventure, Unscrewed Army, an adventure that I cordially invite you to join me on. I have missed you, and begging your forgiveness, will never stray again.

Televsion’s Martin Sargent has returned!