The oppressive malarial heat had the Cabalvision crew pissing sweat while they set up their cameras. Weird insects buzzed around their heads as they struggled with the tripod, trying to stop the weighty camera from sinking into the soft, mossy ground. Gravid, the presenter of the show, stood in front of what he considered a picturesque background. Tall, verdant trees, draped in vines, with a network of spider webs so thick they resembled old bearded Gits stooping in the humidity.

"Iz youse dikheds ready yet?" Gravid snapped at the cameramen. It wasn't just the terrible working conditions that had him grumpy. It wasn't the heat or the disease. It wasn't even the massive spiders that lurked all around them, their glittering eyes watching their every move. It certainly wasn't the fact that said spiders had already eaten one of the cameramen and the boom operator. It was the fact that nobody watched his show. It had used to have a top rating... almost compulsory viewing in Gobbo households. But ever since that stupid XXXL had started... well... nobody was interested in nature programs anymore.

It was getting to be a struggle to get out of bed in the morning. Gravid sighed and repeated his question. The lead cameraman wiped sweat off his brow, looking like he was going to ignore him again, but then answered. "Yeh boss. I fink we iz nearlee readee if yu ar.". Gravid sighed again, but wandered over to the trees, as close as he dared to the spider webs. He could feel the glittering eyes of the Arachnids following his every move.
"Hurree up den and kount me in." he ordered the Crew. The three surviving camera operators looked like they might decide to murder him but instead they started the Cabalvision camera. There was an awful clunking whirrrr and black smoke belched out of it. The lead operator started to count him in. "Live in five, four, three...." The last two numbers were counted down on his fingers, not for any other reason that he couldn't remember them. Gravid cleared his throat.

"Gud day gentlegits. Itz yur boi Gravid 'Atinburra comin to yu liev frum da jungel. An todae we 'av a veree speshial show. We will be lookin at da massiv fuggoff spidars dat inhabut da jungle 'ere. Now, eva sins da End Tymes wen da mountens shook down and colapsed our dunjons, fillin our ansestril homes wiv fyre an brimstone, us Gobbos hav serched da land lookin for playses to liv. Obveosli yu wud have to be a dikhed to fink dat da harsh jungel wud maek a gud new home, but beleeve it or not, some Gits fled 'ere to try an survyve. Dey ar a pack of dum savages if i'm bein' 'onest. Da wurst kind of backwards skum. Kalling dis plaes da armpit of da disc is an insult ta armpits reely. But des poor stuped savages hav sum reely intarestin' kustoms. Taek dere worshup of dey giant spidas. Dey reveer dem as gods in a sad displae of pagan ignorens. Ov kors dey don't tame da big wuns. Dey steel dere eggs in daring raids."

There was an awful creak in the distance, a drawn out crashing noise like a tree collapsing that interrupted Gravid's patter. He paused only momentarily and continued like the consumate professional he is, definitely not showing the fear and panic that was rising inside of him.
"Wen dey steel da eggs, well, obveosli dey eat sum kos dey is fuggin tastee, but dey also hatch sum and dem raise dem like dey wer Gobbo babees."
Another loud creak, closer this time, followed by the same loud crash. There was suddenly thrashing in the bushes somewhere close and they heard voices.
"Fug me! 's probublee kanibuls! HYDE!" Gravid whispered at the crew, and they quickly threw themselves into some web free bushes, leaving the odd scene of a live Cabalvision camera standing alone in a small clearing.

Their little Gobbo hearts pounded as the bushes opposite them seemed to explode outwards. Out of the shredded vegetation came a number of very well dressed Gitz, looking incredibly smart in their khaki safari suits and pith helmets. The lead Gobbo weilded an enormous machete which he slashed out at any plants that dared look at him funny.
One of the newcomers, sporting a lovely beard, led the group into the clearing and motioned towards the trees.
"Dis Mista Kommissiona iz wear we iz gunna build da Stately Winter Mansion™ Swimming Pool, for all dose pool partees yu lik to have so much.... wot's dis?"
Another of the Gobbos's looked to where he was pointing. "It looks liek a kamera."
"Wots dat doin here den?" asked the Bearded Gobbo.
"Maybee its not a kamera... maybee itz wun ov dem surveh mashines."
"Righto. Dat maeks sens," continued the Bearded One, deciding to completely ignore the camera. " So yeh. Dis iz perfekt for da pool partees and den ova dere we will build da Winter Cheerleading School™."
"Dat sounds luvly." Said the Important Goblin in a deep glutteral accent.
"I jus have wun qwestun Mista Kommissiona...."
"Yeh, wot iz it Happy?"
"Wotz yur plan to get rid ov all des savage Gobbos? Dere is too many ov dem left afta we sent da plague blankets. I fink de might have got... wots the word... immunity?"
"Nah dat's not the word. Dats wot we get for our finanshul irregularitees."
The group all laughed. "Nice wun Pana!" continued Happy. "But evin so. Evin wiv Awsum Ben steeling all da savage girl Gobbos dere are stil heeps of dem."
They all stood waiting with bated breath for their leaders wisdom.
"Don't yu gits wurry abowt it." laughed the Commissioner. " We iz gunna start a XXL leeg 'ere. A reel deadlee leeg, where dey plae too manee gaems. A leeg where da best of der playas can be sold into da XXXL, and we gunna sell all dose defektive balls yu manufactured Half!"
The old looking Gobbo who had remained silent suddenly looked estatic. "Yu meen all dose defektive balls wiv da spikes kumming out of dem dat kill an maim Gobbos?"
The Commissioner nodded sagely. "Dats right. We'll make muney killin' dem, and we'll make muney from sellin any ov da wuns dat surviv."
The Goblins all began clapping, celebrating the genius of their (not actually) elected Commissioner.
The clapping went on for a painfully long time. Green hands turned red, and eventually with each clap the Goblins would wince at the sting of it, but none of them wanted to be the first to stop and risk falling out of favour. Falling out of favour meant falling off the Gravy Train.
"Ok. Stop now youse dumheds. Lets go get a drink." The Commissioner ordered, and they quickly filed out the way they had come.

Gravid snuck out of the bush and walked over to the Cabalvision Camera. He checked to see if it was recording, and finding that it really still was, he flicked the switch to turn it off. He couldn't believe his luck. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard, and captured on film... but most of all he couldn't believe just how massive the ratings for this episode were going to be.
"Lets get out of here ladz." he ordered, just avoiding his voice cracking.