Thursday, 28 August 2008
A final report into a clinical trial of the experimental drug TGN 1412 at a Little Hampton clinic that left six men seriously mutated in March found the catastrophic adverse physical reactions they suffered were not due to errors in how the drug was made or tested.
The Medicines Healthcare products Regulatory Agency Whitewash & Bullshit Department (MHRAWBD) said in the report released yesterday that the unexpected biological effects on six of the test subjects was caused by the presence of Sunny D’ orange drink in their bloodstreams.
"We are satisfied that the adverse reactions which occurred were not as a result of any errors in the manufacture of the TGN 1412 drug or its formulation and administration to trial participants," MHRAWBD Chief Executive Professor Morton Bumblingtwat informed TheSpoof.com. “Sunny D’, a dioxin derivative of Agent Orange, is renown for its mutation effects, especially when drunk neat.”
”Whereas TGN 1412, which belongs to a class of low density tennis court asphalt sealants, is known to contain monoclonal antibodies, which we scientists believe might target and activate an immune system protein named CD28, and is being developed to treat severe attacks of beerkeller gout, bratworst canker and scrotum rot.”
The trial of TGN 1412 was run by U.S. drug research company Parexel International Corp. on behalf of the German pharmaceutical giant TeGenero AG, and tested on human guinea pigs at the Litle Hampton clinic as the company couldn’t find anybody stupid enough to volunteer for their drug trials in Germany.
But in the final report the MHRAWBD identified what it called "good clinical practice" discrepancies by Parexel in medical records and employment procedures.
The report said MHRAWBD inspectors were not satisfied that the person screening volunteers before the trial had adequate training and experience for the role as he was normally employed as the clinic’s gardener.
No-one at Parexel was immediately available for comment since the clinic was torched by radical members of the militant Human Guinea Pigs Union in April.
Six males, all medical research volunteers from Jobcentre Plus, were rushed to Little Hampton’s NHS intense care unit in March after suffering violent adverse physical reactions to the TGN 1412 drug.
Ms. Edith Pustule, spokesperson for the NHS Medicines and Healthcare Regulation Agency, told reporters that a total of eight volunteers, all from Little Hampton’s Sink or Swim Estate, were paid £2,000 each to take part in the drug trials. While two were injected with a placebo, specifically draught Guinness, the remaining six had received doses of TGN 1412 and became immediately sick.
“It’s very sad that these unemployed no-chance teenagers, most with the IQ of a small rodent, are recruited at the Jobcentre to sign up for experimental drug trials. But, when you’ve inherited shit for brains from your parents, then Life has little else to offer.”
Bacardi McBling, 16 year old mother of four and partner of stricken volunteer, Archie Fuckwit, spoke to TheSpoof.com’s germ warfare correspondent in depth after visiting her stricken chav swain in hospital.
“I told ‘im not to go an’ do it, but old shit-for-brains always knows best, don’t ‘e.
Two fousand quid they paid ‘im, now ‘e’s all swollen up like an ‘ippopotamus an’ ‘is skin’s all grey and bloody wrinkly-crinkly as well.”
“The stupid git was a guinea pig for this bunch last year an’ they injected ‘im wiv some shit that made ‘im go all funny an’ after it all ‘e would eat for ‘is tea was carrots an’ celery an’ lettuce, an’ ‘e kept ‘angin’ around in pet shops an’ makin’ weird squeakin’ noises an’ pissin’ all over ‘is feet, an’ kept shaggin’ me doggy-style for weeks after.”
“It woz an ‘orrible experience for me, an’ so embarrasin’, cos when me friends came round for a Breezer an’ a coupla spliffs Archie would be out on the lawn, on ‘is ‘ands an’ knees, wanderin’ around in circles an’ nibblin’ the effin’ grass.”
“It’s got fuck all to do wiv the Sunny D’, we’ve bin drinkin’ liters of the crap every day since we woz kids, wiv an’ neat wivout vodka too. It’s that other TNG thingie drug shit they pumped into the lads wot’s made ‘em all fucked up an’ freaky. It's all bollocks like, wot's in this report.”
Ms. McBling, who is currently studying for her GNVQ 3 diploma in Advanced Slapperology, intends to initiate a class action suit for personal injury compensation against Parexel and TeGenero AG on behalf of the stricken volunteers, one of whom is still being treated at the local mortuary.
Wednesday, 27 August 2008
sent to a landfill site with its owner's rubbish, has been found alive.
Sheldrake, a greater-crested Galapagos tortoise, owned by Gladys Hawksbill of Margate in Kent, climbed into a bin bag in search of his favourite slug n lettuce pizza left-overs and was taken to the Canterbury landfill site by refuse collectors on Monday morning.
When Mrs. Hawksbill noticed the tortoise wasn’t in his kennel or barking at passers-by she realized what might have happened, phoned the Thanet Council landfill site on their emergency terrorist attack hotline, and was allowed to look through the rubbish but Sheldrake was nowhere to be seen.
Luckily Mrs. Hawksbill’s alarm call had been picked up by NATO’s Nosy Twat snooper satellite and the Brussels H.Q. launched a full emergency search and rescue operation, parachuting four battalions of troopers from its elite Rapid Response Regiment onto the Canterbury rubbish tip.
NATO spokesperson Col. Edna Nutcracker told The Spoof’s military correspondent “The lads were all sat around on their lazy arses with fuck all to do until our next scheduled false flag terrorist operation in November, so the Joint Chiefs decided a spot of tortoise tracking would be good exercise for them until we invade Iran.”
After securing the site with a customary perimeter of anti-personnel mines and ordering an air strike to napalm the tip manager’s office, the troops scoured the area through the night aided by helicopter searchlights and flares but dawn brought no success in locating the missing tortoise.
A swift change in search method strategy was required if Sheldrake was to be found alive, so NATO Command deployed their stand-by reinforcement
crack Sudanese 22nd Darfur Scavenger Battalion across the entire rubbish tip.
Col. Nutcracker informed the assembled media “As the tip was composed mainly of bio-degradable matter such as garden waste, broken glass, rusty barbed wire, depleted uranium and semi-toxic Bono posters we decided to put the Darfur Scavengers to work.
They hadn’t had anything to eat for six weeks before leaving Khartoum, so getting them in the thick of it and let them eat their way through was the best tactic. We issued each of them with a picture of a tortoise first though, just in case.”
Within hours the Darfur boys had scoffed over sixteen tons (metric) of assorted rubbish when a jubilant cheer arose. Sheldrake had been found under a pile of discarded U2 CD’s nibbling on the remains of a McDonald’s
Chew n Spew cheese burger.
After a quick clean up with Mr. Sheen furniture polish and a Verison locator micro-chip embedded in his shell, Sheldrake the tortoise was delivered safely home. Yet another NATO success. Cost to the taxpayer : a measly £25,000,000. The smile on Mrs. Hawksbill’s face : Priceless.
Monday, 25 August 2008
The daughter of former UK Prime Minister Muggie Thatcher has spoken for the first time about her mother's struggle with galloping dementia.
In her new book, serialised in the Mail on Sunday, Carol Thatcher says she first noticed her mother's memory was failing over breakfast in 1980.
Ms Thatcher recollects the deterioration of her mother’s mental abilities began after Tiddles, the family cat, was kidnapped by striking coal miners and nailed to the front door of the TUC headquarters.
Due Baroness Thatcher's failing mental capacity she has to be reminded on a regular basis that daughter Carol has a twin brother Mark, affectionately known by the family as Thickie Mork, then nods her head and asks " Is he in prison yet?"
The book, A Swim-On Part in the Goldfish Bowl: A Memoir, tells of how her mother's "blotting-paper brain", which absorbed information like a bog roll absorbs diarrhoea, began to fail in the early Eighties - a decade before leaving power.
Apparently the Baroness often confuses her deceased husband Denis with ex-U.S. President Ronald Reagan when watching old news film footage and can be heard to comment “Best shag I ever had, Camp David -1985. Good old Ronnie. Pity Dick Cheney and Bush had him shot. He could never get it hard after that”
The former Conservative Prime Minister got confused between Balkans and the Falklands during a conversation about the war in the former Yugoslavia,
and asked if Slobbering Milosevic was on board the General Belgrano when she had it torpedoed.
Ms Thatcher writes "I almost fell off my chair. Watching her struggle with her words and her memory, I couldn't believe it," she says. “The contrast was all the more striking because she always had a memory like a septic tank and kept all kinds of old shit stored in there.”
Losing Sir Denis to pancreatic cancer in 2003 "was truly awful" for her mother, she says, "not least because she kept mixing him up with Ronald Reagan, but her dementia meant she kept forgetting he was actually dead".
"I had to keep giving her the bad news over and over again : that Daddy, and Ronnie, were both history, and wouldn’t be here for tea.”
“On bad days mother hardly knows her arse from her elbow, but on good days there are flashes of her old self, and she scrutinizes visitors and demands “Are you that lying bastard Blair?” or “Are you that Cameron chap selling wind mobiles?”
Only last week she was invited to have lunch with PM Gordon Brown
at No.10 Ds. but refused on the grounds she would sooner have a course of chemotherapy than break bread and sup with Satan's Jock-twat slippery apprentice.
Tuesday, 19 August 2008
Reality TV star Jade Cruddy has been diagnosed with cervical cancer, her publicist Max Clifford confirmed today.
The 27-year-old celebrity slapper was informed whilst appearing on the Indian version of Big Brother, known as Bigg Bitch.
Max Clifford told BBC Radio 1's Shitraker programme that Goody was
"extremely upset and frightened and will be back as soon as they can get her on a plane".
India’s Bigg Bitch producers confirmed Goody had left the house for "medical reasons”. She is due to arrive back in the UK later.
"Jade had some tests carried out recently by a team of pot-holers and gynaecologists from Dynarod UK, then she went off to India to appear in their version of Big Brother," Mr Clifford informed the media.
"Yesterday we got a call from her Dynarod consultant to say she has a type of aggressive cervical cancer known as galloping cunt rot, so she has to return to England straight away for treatment."
Clifford added: "We put the Dynarod consultant in touch with the Bigg Bitch programme producers in India and because of the circumstances he was allowed to speak to her and explain the results of her tests."
When asked if the result was a positive smear test or a confirmed diagnosis of cancer, Mr Clifford said: "No, it’s definitely galloping cunt rot."
"The important thing is to get her back as soon as possible and have this treated.
Obviously there were some problems prior to the India trip - such as the putrefying green slime running down her inner thighs - that's why the tests were carried out. But she had no idea this would be the diagnosis - she was shocked when she learned it wasn’t simply another dose of the clap."
Goody, who has the IQ of a barn owl, had undergone STD tests earlier this month after leaving trails of noxious slime from her vaginal discharge around
her Essex home.
But she had decided to appear in Bigg Bitch to make amends after being accused of racism towards Bollywood actress Slippa Shitty on Celebrity
Big Brother in the UK.
According to The Sun newspaper, scenes showing Goody being told of her diagnosis in the Bigg Bitch house were not broadcast at the time due her screaming “Oh fuck, me cunt’s gone rotten!” and suffering one of her regular bouts of projectile vomiting.
Mr. Welung Tuwat, a Feng Shui consultant, told The Daily Squib’s Far East correspondent, Charlie Pong, “I get sentenced to six weeks in jail for non-payment of a parking fine. Business not good, no money, cannot pay fine, so nice vacation in jail, all okay la’. One night the egg flied rice taste kinda funny, maybe drugged, then fall asleep and next morning I wake up in the prison hospital and my bollocks are missing. The guy who share my cell, he wake up with one kidney gone and his gold teeth removed.”
Regardless of demand exceeding supply, the scandal deepens darkly when considering Chinese courts are now imposing capital punishment sentences for what were, until recently, considered common and minor civil offences. These range from duck buggery or defecating in a public place to female infanticide / baby fly-tipping without a permit and the possession of U2 CDs and / or Bono posters.
Rumours of Chinese Olympic athletes being targeted for organ transplant harvesting if they fail to win gold medals became rife after the Chinese Freestyle Hopscotch supremo Two-Step Pling was found dumped in an Olympic Village wheelie bin missing all his internal organs and feared dead.
Pling, who had been hopping up to 50 kilometers a day during training and living on a strict diet of unleaded green tea and decaffeinated tofu, was
beaten in the Freestyle Hopscotch final heats the previous day by International Hopscotch Grand Master Garry Sodoff of Patagonia.
Olympic commentator Harry Slagrat opined that Sodoff’s win over Pling might
be accounted for by the fact Pling was wearing rubber flip-flops while Sodoff
was clad in a pair of Nike Springheel Jumpers.
China’s organ transplant business, both legal and illegal, has seen the rise
of a burgeoning cottage industry dealing in transplant surgery.
Mr. Wang Gang-bang, a former rickshaw mechanic, took a crash six-week NVQ 1government training course in organ transplant surgery at the prestigious Beijing Morticians Institute before establishing Happy Wang’s Transplant Clinic, run out of his garden shed in downtown Shanghai.
Wang told The Daily Squib’s’ Charlie Pong, “I gets lotsa people here every week…..from America an’ Europe…anywhere they got lotsa money and need new organ. My wife keep all our donor organs in the big chest freezer with the dogmeat and fish…all very fresh.”
“Sometime we buy organs from India an’ Pakistan…they like to sell the odd kidney or two for cash…can live with one, see…..then they have money to buy job in Iraq….dialysis very cheap in India….so sometimes sell both kidneys and send wife to Iraq as housemaid instead.”
“Next month gonna start transgender surgery here too…have new shed…..much bigger one…….order from Ikea in Beijing….give you my card
if you wanna try sex change maybe. Turn you into real Western-style slapper…..big boobs…tight pussy……the lot.”
However, the scandal gets worse, with reports that even state hospitals are now illegally removing healthy organs from living patients.
Mr. Tiger Poontang, a Falun Gong counsellor from Wanking Province, checked into Nanjing’s Sun Yee On Medical Clinic recently for routine surgery to remedy an ingrowing foreskin problem. Awaking from the anaesthesia following the operation, he complained of pains in his abdomen and right side.
The attending physician, Dr. Know Fuc*kall, pronounced that several meters of Mr. Poontang’s lower colon, and his gall bladder, had been removed, along with his entire penis.
Police investigating the incident stated the hospital files showed no record of Mr. Poontang being admitted to the hospital.
Chief Inspector Shifty ‘Big Ears’ Tong opined to the media that the excisions may well have been the work of medical students performing a sick fraternity initiation stunt and not carried out by Nanjing’s infamous Triad transplant organ snatch gang.
Further lots owned by the Queen's late sister will be sold off by her children, Viscount David Limply and Lady Sarah Shitto, on Wednesday. The money will be used to pay inheritance taxes, with a minor percentage going to the late Princess’ favourite charity: The Mustique Gigolos Retirement Fund.
Princess Margaret's ex-husband Lord Snowdunder wrote to Christie's before the sale questioning whether his children had the right to sell some of the erotic royal treasures.
The 76-year-old Snowdunder is said to be fuc*king furious about yesterday's sale and at loggerheads with his son, recently declaring “That greedy little twat David sells everything.”
But this, it seems, is strictly business for the grasping Viscount Limply, who sold his mother's beloved Mustique seraglio seven years ago for a reputed £2.4m. It was the only property she ever owned, and the venue for some of her horniest days with lover Noddy Llewellyn and the Household Cavalry Regiment.
Buyers started a price stampede to secure a slice of Princess Margaret's salacious life. The controversial auction of her erotic knickknacks saw some items sold for up to a hundred times more than expected, with bidders clamouring to buy erogenous mementoes of her scandalous, hedonistic past.
The extraordinary sale at Christie's in London was packed with more than a thousand bidders in four sweltering rooms, including tribes of fat and sweaty oil-rich Arabs and several ranks of staff assigned to take telephone bids from at least five hundred potential customers. Few familiar faces were among them - the seriously rich or the embarrassingly famous preferred to send proxy bidders, or to do their business discreetly by phone.
However, that didn't stop hundreds of punters jostling to secure some of the rarest and most interesting items of carnal gratification to come on to the market since the Duchess of Windsor's sex toys went under the hammer in the 1980’s, and those of Queen Victoria in 1901. Anyone who wondered what the level of interest might be in Margaret's objects de amour had only to be in the main auction room at Christie's yesterday for the first minute.
Auctioneer Francois de Gavel started the bidding for Lot One - a set of ruby and cultured pearl anal stimulator beads, personally crafted for Tzu Hsi, the Dowager Empress of China and estimated to fetch about £1,200 - at a modest £500. Within seconds, prices took off like a runaway bobsled gliding across camel snot. After half a minute the set hit £6,000, then peaked at £23,000; reportedly bought by Rebekah Wade, editor of the shi*t-raking tabloid Sun newspaper.
The clearest indication of how much the unwashed public envied Princess Margaret's lascivious lifestyle (or perhaps of its collective ability to spot a bargain) came with some of the more modest items in the catalogue. Two small ivory butt plugs, for example, - little different from those one might buy for personal gratification in a holiday souvenir sex shop - sold for £3,360. The original estimate was between £200 and £300. Likewise, a pair of gold-plated tampax removal tongs, a coming-out party gift from the Aga Khan, fetched £1,800. A chased silver pessary inserter, valued at £130, went for £900 after a bout of hectic bidding. A matching set of monogrammed black latex crotchless panties and peephole bra, from Harry’s Eros Emporium in Soho and valued at £25, brought a staggering £3,500 winning bid from a group of Omani camel traders.
Another of the star items was her clockwork Faberge vibrating egg, a gift from Queen Beatrice of the Netherlands., and once part of the Russian Tsarina Alexandra’s sex toy collection. The estimate was that it might fetch £600,000 to £800,000. It sold for £1,240,000 to an anonymous telephone bidder in Dubai.
For those with similarly serious money, a much cherished five-finger art deco sapphire and diamond studded alabaster fisting dildo, given to her as an 18th birthday present by inamorato Group Captain Peter Townsend and estimated at £15,000 eventually went for £276,800.
Likewise, a pair of ordinary looking nipple rings bearing a single cultured pearl each were valued less than £600. They went for £60,000, a staggering hundred times the highest estimate. The same nipple rings, which she wore when photographed by Cecil Beaton for her 21st birthday portrait, were on show in a giant reproduction of the nude photograph on a wall of the main auction room.
The naked princess gazed down from it on a sea of faces and standing bidders, some frantically waving numbered cards from the sidelines to be sure of catching the auctioneer’s eye. One couldn't help wondering whether she would have found the spectacle unbearably vulgar - or, with her famously sick sense of humour – rather amusing, knowing that each and every sex toy had been deep in one of her regal orifices first.
Lot Twenty, an eighteen-inch rhino horn dildo, as thick as a Bantu’s arm, originally brought back from Tanganyika in 1892 by Princess Mary of Teck and given to Margaret as a wedding present, brought £420,750 after a round of hectic bidding. Anecdotal evidence abounds that Princess Mary adored to impale herself upon its full length each evening after brandy and cigars – a practice Margaret is said to have continued after her marriage to Lord Snowdunder.
The auction was unfortunately marred by a most sordid incident where a group of Arab bidders were observed sniffing and licking a display of the late Princess’ dildos and clitoral stimulators, giving thumbs up gestures and declaring ‘Royal pussy, yum-yum, smell very nice, very tasty, just like goat’s cun*t’.
After the offending parties were forcibly removed from the premises by security guards, Chief Auctioneer de Gavel announced that all the items of erotica had been thoroughly disinfected and certified free of any trace of the various Diseases of Venus, which once infected their royal owner, by the Porton Down Microbiology Laboratory.
The Pirates of the Caribbean theme birthday bash, laid on by her estranged parents and costing in excess of £30,000, drew harsh criticism from social welfare groups who compared the one night fling’s bill to the annual joint gross wage for a married couple of commoners striving to feed and clothe their children and pay a mortgage and council tax.
The fifty-odd high society teenage guests, comprised of aristocratic nobheads and vermin in ermine school pals from the Millfield Academy for Spoiled Brats, were served champagne upon arrival but quickly broke out their own smuggled hard liquor supplies and started down the path of decadence, engaging in an impromptu blamange hurling frenzy along the minstrel’s gallery.
Events took a turn for the worse when Prince Harry breezed in driving a hijacked Carlsberg draught lager tanker, which the party’s Horray Henry faction quickly used to fill the swimming pool then cavort naked in.
Prince Hairy, affectionately named the Ginger Minger by Cousin Eugenie, came dressed for the theme party in his customary Nazi U-boat commander’s Kriegsmarine uniform, and lost no time in brandishing his cutlass and torpedoing the pirate galleon anchored on the estate’s lake. Sadly the scheduled keel-hauling display had to be cancelled.
The Duke of Edinburgh, acting as Chief Monitor, made a valiant attempt to censure Hairy’s belligerent behaviour but had his Zimmer frame snatched away by the drunken revelers and was tossed, arse-uppards, into a vat of festering guacamole.
Prince Charles, ensconced in the mansion’s library discussing Tibetan cosmology with an aspidistra and a bowl of hyacinths, remained oblivious
of the party’s descent into drunken debauchery until later informed by the Royal Snitch.
The makings of a right Royal chunder-fest became apparent when the banquet hall’s vomit trough overflowed at 8:00pm, disrupting the hamster juggling display, with guests taking to the garden lawns to continue their bingeing and view the evening fireworks display. This failed to impress some of the Hooray Henry cabal, who commandeered one of the security helicopters and proceeded to napalm the estate gardeners’ cottages, laying waste to several acres of Windsor Great Park and the Berkshire countryside in the process.
Eugenie’s thirty-two foot high birthday cake, designed by architect Norman Wobbly Bridge Foster and constructed for the occasion by Wimpey’s confectionary division, became the next target for the ravers. Several boozed guests scaled the cake and used its summit for a bungee jumping session until fractures appeared in the icing and the entire edifice toppled onto a pair of Beefeaters.
Rumours of drunken dogging orgies around the mansion’s gardens were later substantiated by security guards who came to the rescue of a screaming Daily Mirror reporter, anally impaled on a Saguaro cactus by the revelers after being caught photographing the al fresco sex romps.
Security decided it prudent to end the birthday bash at 2:00 am when a cadre of sozzled Hooray Henrys were overheard discussing what a spiffing good wheeze it would be to detonate a small tactical nuclear device outside the Ascot police station on the drive home.
Sunninghill Park, given to Andrew and Fergie as a wedding present by the Queen, was a target for criticism even at the time of their 1986 marriage.
Costing £10 million, the mansion was considered an extravagant display of Monarchial waste when common peasants received such mundane items as towels, toasters or bedding as wedding gifts.
A spokesman for Contract Options, the company hired to clean up the post-party mess, told The Rockall Times “Prince Andrew an’ Fergie are gonna shi*t kittens an’ really spit the dummy when they see this lot. It’s gonna take days to just rake up all the condoms an’ fag ends from the lawns.”
“The wine cellar’s a right pig’s ear too. The kids smashed the padlock off the door an’ supped every bloody thing down there. It’s knee deep in spew and bottles strewn everywhere.”
Princess Eugenie, currently studying for A-levels in Indolence and Hedonistic Squandering, is rumoured to be suffering from post-prom depression and will remain grounded until Christmas.
Test core samplings for the foundation study of the proposed Rockall International Convention Centre were recently sent for analysis at South Uist’s prestigious University of Geological Sciences.
“It was quite a revelation,” Dr. Angus McTwat, the University’s senior crapologist, informed the Rockall Times. “We subjected the deep core samples to spectroscopic analysis and discovered they consisted of fossilized coelacanth excrement from the late Silurian period.
The prehistoric fish had presumably been attracted by a thermal vent in the ocean floor and turned the area into a pelagic communal toilet, as fish are apt to do. In paraphyletic terminology it’s what is known as a shi*ttery.”
“Following the Mesozoic period layers we found the deposits consisted entirely of haddock shi*t to a height of five meters above the present mean tide mark, so obviously the ocean level dropped significantly eons ago and Rockall became the roost and communal shi*ttery for flocks of seabirds.”
“Analysis of the upper strata geology of the island reveals it’s composed of an exotic blend of compacted fulmar, gannet and guillemot shi*t, right up to the peak of Periwinkle Point.”
“Shock and bloody awe,” were the first words from Vince, landlord of the island’s Fighting Dog and Pikey pub, upon hearing the news. “We’ve all reckoned for years that Rockall’s a pile of shi*te but this takes the literal biscuit.”
Proposals to now change the island’s name to Shi*tall will be added to the agenda of articles to be debated in March at the next public council meeting.
Venue : Rockall Community Centre, Lamprey Gardens.
30th anniversary celebrations for The Prince’s Trust, HRH Prince Charles,
and sons Wills and Hairy, will demean their Royal dignity to a fresh low in being interviewed by the oafish Geordie double-act, Ant and Dec.
While most readers of The Rockall Times are vaguely familiar with members of the Royal family, many have e-mailed the news desk asking “Ant and Dec…what the fuc*k are they?”
So, for the edification of readers, a concise bio’.
The Tyneside-sprouted pair first came together at a Newcastle unemployment centre where Ant, an apprentice tortoise polisher, and Dec, a skateboard mechanic, had staff in fits of raucous laughter with their reasons for claiming jobseekers allowance.
Recounted staff member Ms. Candida Twatrot, “They were so funny we were all pissin’ ourselves. Eventually the supervisor said they should be on television and gave them ITV’s address and phone number.”
After a couple of screen tests and a make-over the pair emerged with hair styles like microwaved porcupines and a slot on prime TV’s children’s drama
series Bikers Grove, in which they played the squirrels Mump and Slut.
Next came Pop Idol, which proved a partial success regardless of critics lambasting the pair as dog wankers and as funny as chemotherapy.
Their big break, Saturday Night Takeaway Spewup, eventually had to be pulled after viewers committed suicide while watching the broadcasts.
But popular success was assured when the pair hosted Reality TV’s “I’m a Celebrity, Shoot Me Quick and Put the Viewers Out of Their Misery !”
The programme featured has-been celebrities subjected to all kinds of asinine torments, usually naked, in the Tyneside Outback, which delighted the viewing public’s perverted sense of solid family entertainment.
One favourite spot in the series was the Bushtucker segment where each contestant had to stick their heads into a bucket of festering pheasant shi*t to retrieve their lunch, specifically a pickled pigeon’s prostate, all the while being heckled and cajoled by Ant and Dec, and poked with sharp sticks.
Staff at The Rockall Times offer sincere condolences to Their Royal Highnesses that someone of a more acknowledged academic or political background, such as Sir David Frost or David Dimbleby, or even Andrew Bat Ears Marr, are not available to conduct The Prince’s Trust Anniversary interview.
The crime squad’s supremo, Chief Superintendent Deaf Leopard, informed The Rockall Times that the raid was carried out with military precision. When asked to elaborate on this point C.S. Leopard replied “By someone with Boy Scout training
at the very least.”
First Guillemot Bank manager, Fergus McSpendthrift, told Rockall Times reporters that he was pedaling to work early on Wednesday morning when pulled over for speeding by what he believed was an unmarked police van. The van’s occupants, dressed in police uniforms, bundled him into the back of the van and drove off, leaving his mountain bike lying by the kerb.
“It was only when thrown into the back of the van that I realized this wasn’t an arrest for speeding,” McSpendthrift explained. “There were several hooded men in the back too and they had my pet guinea pigs, Porky and Snotter, in a cage.
I was told that if I didn’t cooperate and let them into the bank my guinea pigs would end up nailed to the Millennium Totem Pole on Periwinkle Point.”
“It was a terrifying experience, for Porky and Snotter more so than myself.
I’m no stranger to pain, suffering and torture as I attended public school.”
Police confirmed that McSpendthrift, under great personal duress and fear for his pet’s lives, had assisted the robbery gang in gaining access to the bank.
“The bank vault itself apparently presented no problem for the robbers,” C.S. Leopard informed the island’s media, “as the vault door’s padlock has been bust since 1967.”
Following the robbery questions were raised on Rockall’s prime television
Petrel News program as to why such a large amount of cash was being stored
at the bank. Speculations and rumours ranging from smuggled drug money
belonging to the Benbecula Cocaine Cartel to money laundering operations by Rockall’s Hall’s Ledge Casino are rife.
Arturo Corruptioni, attorney for the First Guillemot Bank S.A. Group, spoke by phone to The Rockall Times from the bank’s headquarters in the Dutch Antilles.
“All this money laundering speculation has no basis,” Mr. Corruptioni advised. “Rockall’s commerce generates so much cash, not only from the Hall’s Ledge Casino but also the daily haddock auctions, the Slappers Lane massage clinics and especially the island’s chain of Greasy Git fish and chip shops and the beachfront’s Pot Pot Insta-Noodle stalls.”
“Mr. Al Jezeera’s string of Pound Emporiums generates over ten million quid a week in readies alone,” Corruptioni added before gunshots and screams were heard in the background and the line went dead.
Hall’s Ledge Casino’s PR spokesman, Malcolm Mafiosi, stated that to comment on the Petrel News’ unfounded money laundering rumours was below his dignity, but did advise Rockall Times reporters “If yer don’t fuc*k off sharpish-like I’ll ‘ave yer bastard legs broken.”
Police breakthroughs came early yesterday when the robbery gang’s van was found, abandoned and concealed by undergrowth, in the nearby Hasselwood Rock forest. Forensic teams are currently examining the van for clues to the gang’s identities.
A second breakthrough came in the afternoon when police were summoned
to the Tesco Extra branch on the Great Auk Bypass.
Teenagers Asbo McDork and Babs Tithead, both residents of the West Rockall Regeneration Estate, had attempted to purchase trolleys full of Smoked Haddock Muesli Bars and cases of Foamy Fulmar isotonic drinks with a £6,000 bundle of banknotes bearing a First Guillemot Bank wrapper.
Apprehended by Tesco security guards, the pair were arrested by responding police officers and interviewed at the Serious Crimes Squad headquarters.
Chief Superintendent Leopard later informed a press conference “The arrests are highly significant, but personally I doubt these two have the collective brains to wipe their own arses, let alone rob a bank.”
“They claim to have found the banknote bundle on Scumsurf Beach, protruding from the beak of a distressed cormorant which was apparently choking on it.”
“However, under Rockall’s current anti-terrorist legislation, we can hold them for up to five years without pressing charges,” C.S. Leopard concluded.
On a happier note Porky and Snotter were discovered today, safe and sound, nibbling gorse bushes and nettles in the Fighting Dog and Pikey pub’s beer garden.
With a two million pound million reward currently on offer for information leading to the arrest of the gang, the 24 hour witness appeal line is Rockall 123456.
So go on, give us a call, even if you don’t have any worthwhile information. Like the National Lotto : if you’re not in, you won’t win.People can also call Rockall’s Crimestoppers on the freephone number
08000 678 91011 if they wish to remain anonymous, or make bogus confessions that they masterminded the robbery.
the sacred isle.
Bunting and banners festooned the streets on Tuesday as the Fighting Dog and Pikey’s massed pipe band marched the length and breadth of the island,
issuing forth a mega-decibel cacophony that terrified roosting gulls as far away as Benbecula and precipitated a landslide at the main guano pit.
Historical records show that St. Rupert sailed from South Uist’s Abbey of the Sacred Catamites in July of 589 AD, braving the Northern Seas aboard a currach constructed of willow withies, haddock skins and cormorant feathers,
landing on Rockall around mid-August.
Here St. Rupert made contact with the island’s indigenous tribe of primitive cave dwellers who practiced pagan religious rites centred around an ancient gull sodomy cult and worshipped a huge phallic megalith known as the Great Auk. ( L. Pinguinus impennis ).
The fearless crusading Rupert directed his acolytes to topple the Great Auk and cast it into the sea, then set about his dauntless task of converting the pagan Rockallites to the one true path of Christ our Saviour with a zealous agenda of scourgings, flayings, and burnings, as prescribed by the sixth century Vatican’s missionary manual ‘How to Convert Stubborn Pagan Twats’.
So successful was Rupert’s mission that in 591 AD his first missive to the Bishop’s Synod of St. Kilda reported that Rockall had been elevated from a hive of skullduggery and gull buggery to a haven of decent Christian society,
with only five instances of fornication with fish and sea birds being confessed that year.
Marauding Vikings invaded Rockall in 594 as part of their annual Rape and Pillage tour, and exhibited their appreciation of Rupert’s attempts to convert them to Christianity by shoving a live gannet up his rectum, beak first, then hurling him off Periwinkle Point with a sack of sodden stoat shi*te tied around his neck.
Rupert the Killjoy was canonised by Pope Gregory XV in 1523 for his proctological martyrdom at the hands of the Viking pagan horde, and one recorded miracle of turning gannet shi*t into communion wafers.
A Sudanese man, Stanley Tombe, has been forced to take a goat as his ‘wife’, after he was caught having sex with the animal.
Mr. Alifi Malakal, a halal rat vendor from Sudan’s Upper Nile State, told The Rockall Times’ Births, Deaths and Marriages desk that he heard a loud disturbance around midnight on the 14th February and immediately rushed outside to find Tombe in flagrante delicto with his goat, Mimi.
"When I surprised him with: ' Hey Stanley, what the fuc*k are you up to?' his ars*e was going like a fiddler’s elbow and he fell off the back of the goat right on the vinegar stroke, so I grabbed the buggering twa*t and tied him up.”
Mr.Malakal then brought the hog-bound goat shagger before a council of village elders to decide how to deal with the case of sex with an under-age goat.
"They said I should not take him to the police, but rather let him pay a dowry for my goat because he used it as his wife," Mr. Malakal told the astonished media. Tombe, an unemployed coconut juggler, was ordered to pay a dowry of 15,000 Sudanese dinars (£5) to Malakal for his illicit St. Valentine’s Day love tryst .
However, an ecstatic Mr. Tombe, cuddling Mimi, his blushing bride-to-be, told The Rockall Times that their wedding ceremony would take place at Khartoum’s Church of the Latter Day Zoophiles in July, after Mimi reaches
the age of consent.
“It’s very hard to find a wife here. I had hoped to actually marry a woman,
but Mimi’s the next best thing. Every time I passed Alifi’s house, she was always flashing those big blue eyes at me. It was love at first sight perhaps, and St. Valentine’s Day seemed the perfect occasion to express my physical love for her. I took her a bunch of red roses too, but she ate them”
The Rev. Julius McBonkers, Pastor of the Church of the Latter Day Zoophiles,
informed a crowd of intrigued media reporters “We perform several weddings a month here. Last week a woman married her donkey after a three year relationship. She’s very religious and couldn’t bear to go on living in sin.”
On a downside note to the affair, while Mimi’s brother Billy is slated to give away the bride, the rest of her family will be barred from attending the actual ceremony as goats have a nasty habit of chewing the altar cloths and church vestments, and also shi*tting on the aisle floor.
The wedding ceremony and reception are being sponsored and covered by a Khartoum adult magazine chain, the Woolyback Press, publishers of the popular weekly Goat Bonkers Gazette. Mr. Ramjam Caprahumper, editor of the Gazette, told reporters “I can’t wait to meet Mimi personally, she looks such a sweetie in her photos. May God bless their union with lots of kids.”
The gang of chavs and chavettes were weekend trippers from the neighbouring Darwin Mounds Scranger Industrial Estate, visiting Rockall to take advantage of the island’s relaxed drinking laws where anyone over the age of ten can consume alcohol, or aged six if accompanied by an adult.
Following a sea front boozing session the inebriated teenagers ran amok on the Promenade, happy slapping and kicking several defenceless cormorants and puffins, and seriously terrifying a roosting guillemot.
The entire violent episode was recorded by CCTV cameras outside the Promenade’s McDonald’s Chew and Spew restaurant, with gang members taking photos and videos of the attacks with their blue tooth cellphones and transmitting
the brutal events to the mainland UK’s happy slapping headquarters in Skelmersdale.
Ms. Yvonne Gorgon, a stylist at the Medusa Hair Salon, witnessed the attacks and gave evidence against the gang in court. The Rockall Times assizes reporter
heard Ms. Gorgon tell the court the attacks were initially started by Shantelle McSlagrat, leader of the chavettes faction, easily recognizable by her Croydon facelift hairstyle and the bling manhole covers hanging from her ears.
Summing up the case, the Rt. Hon. Desmond Shirtlifter, Margrave of Rockall,
castigated the violent attacks as despicable and sentenced each gang member to be pilloried and given thirty lashes with a smoked conger eel, followed by fourteen days confinement in the island’s maximum security guano pit.
Animal rights campaigners, including the Uist Hedgehog Rescue, claim the killings are inhumane, and have now recruited members of the loony Celebrity arena to support their cause.
Brian May, ex-Queen rock group guitarist and former Middlesex old rope saleman, has written to the SNH chairman John Killemall, outlining his concerns over the cull and questioning why the hedgepigs can’t be translocated.
Rumours have reached the news desk of The Rockall Times that one strategy proposed by the Uist Hedgehog Rescue cadre is to translocate all Hebridean hedgehogs to Rockall.
This sparked instant controversy among the sacred islet’s naturalists who drew comparisons with the red squirrel / gray squirrel dilemma, whereas the introduction of the latter had decimated the indigenous former on the mainland UK.
Ms. Sonica Spineball of the Rockall Insectivora Trust estimated “Our own aboriginal Greater Crested Hedgehogs might well be endangered by an influx of alien Erinaceinae species, especially those nasty Benbecula Vampire Hedgehogs. I once saw a hunting pair bring down a Highland Crumplehorn sheep and rip it’s throat out.”
A partial cull of Rockall’s Greater Crested Hedgehog population several years ago proved an unmitigated disaster when it was discovered their spines were so tightly packed that 12 gauge pellets and .303 rounds simply ricocheted off them. Depleted uranium ballistic projectiles were eventually deployed in the cull, but these too were ineffective, apart from the fact targeted hedgehogs became noctiluminescent and were easier to track and net.
Joining May in the self-promoting Celebrity ranks of hedgehog cull opposition are Sir Paul McCarthorse, Sir Tim Egg Fried Rice, Joanna Lumley and of course, everyone’s second favourite, Sting, whose spiny coiffure bears a close resemblance to a hedgehog’s arse.
Rumours that Bono and Blob Geldork will take a break from their mission to end famine in Africa and bring about World peace, and endorse the anti-hedgehog cull movement are, mercifully, as yet still rumours.
elderly husband after discovering he was not as rich as she thought.
Titiana Dzerzhinsky-Edwards, 27, is facing life imprisonment after stabbing spouse Glyn in the stomach with a Black and Decker jigsaw.
Dzerzhinsky-Edwards, who studied for an GNVQ 1 Bedpan Proficiency Certificate at Tallinn’s prestigious Lavrenty Beria Institute of Geriatric Care, turned her back on a strict religious upbringing to sell sex for £200 per deviant three-hole hairy clambake session in Soho after her London care work contract failed to materialize.
She set out to snare Glyn Edwards, 96, after he paid for a full, round-the World, Viagra-fuelled sex romp and hinted he was a multi-millionaire while flashing his Sainsbury’s Nectar card.
After a whirlwind romance lasting almost the entire evening, she agreed to forsake her weekly £6,000 whoring wage packet, including Healthcare and pension plans, for what she thought would be a life of opulent luxury.
However, quite soon after moving into Glyn Edward’s cramped single berth caravan, and going through a dismal wedding ceremony at the local Moron Church of Lettuce Day Saints, the Estonian-born gold-digger began to realise there was little that glittered in their relationship, apart from her gold zircon labial rings. London's Southwark Crown Court heard from the couple’s neighbours that as matters spiralled from bad to worse, she drained the retired marketing consultant's meager savings with endless demands for cash, numerous trips abroad and a seemingly insatiable desire for AA Duracell batteries to power her Rampant Jackrabbit and vibrating butt plug. All the while she complained endlessly about his boring life and unsavoury personal habits of nose-picking, arse-scratching and ferret cuddling.
While in the witness box Dzerzhinsky-Edwards related a host of broken promises, culminating in the cancellation of the second half (left) of her breast enhancement procedure.
Then on June 11th last year, during a final row concerning ready cash to finance her half-completed boob job, she stabbed Glyn in the stomach with a sharp-bladed power tool and enviscerated him over the kitchen floor.Dzerzhinsky-Edwards, of Mariticide Crescent, Ferret Heath, Surrey, had denied the single count of murder she faced, claiming she had actually being trying to commit suicide at the time. She insisted that as her elderly husband struggled to disarm her, the Black and Decker jigsaw blade accidentally slid into his abdomen, seppuku-style, fourteen times. But the jury of six men and eight women trying the case took only fifteen minutes to decide it was just another of her many manipulative lies. As the 13-1 majority verdict was announced Dzerzhinsky-Edwards gasped, buried her head between her disproportionate breasts and collapsed on to a policeman, sobbing inconsolably. Judge Basil Pitiless warned the court there was "Only one sentence I can pass, and it won’t be a community service order".
The bizarre event, sponsored by Barmy Bastard Productions and Ripley's Believe It Or Not, was held at the Genting Highlands Kamikaze Zoophiles Club.
Members of the Serangoon Snake Smoochers Society competed to break the previous venomous snake snogging record set by American Gordon Mamba in 2004 when he spent the night cuddled up in bed with a thirty foot anaconda, engaged in French kissing and heavy petting.
The Rockall Times Asian correspondent, Dougie Slackbladder, was in the Genting Highlands to witness the contest.
“It made my bleedin’ skin crawl, watching a bunch of blokes engaging in deviant sex with helpless serpents. You could tell the snakes weren’t enjoying it by the way they were squirming. The only satisfying part, for me, was when
one contestant tried for a blow job off a Singapore Slingback Viper and got his bollocks bitten. He was dead in minutes, writhing in agony. Great fun and laughs all round.”
But the overall winner, and new world record holder, Abdul Stupidtwat, displayed absolute control over the fifteen foot long feral King Cobra he
engaged for an involuntary snogging session.
Caressing the snake’s neck with his right hand, the fingers of his left stimulated it’s erogenous zones, bringing it to a mesmerized pre-orgasmic state, and powerless to resist his repulsive smooching.
However, the Kuala Lumpur based Ophidian Civil Rights group, ardent critics of the annual competition, condemned what they consider borders on snake rape.
The group’s spokesperson, Ms. Watsit Cottonmouth, told The Rockall Times
“How can they award a new world record for kissing a King Cobra when the snake involved was a female. Surely this must be classified as a Queen Cobra.”
“This poor reptile was trapped in the jungle and subjected to a very public, and televised, session of carnal ravishment against its will, solely to serve the ego-driven competitive ends of a bunch of male deviants.”
“Our group will be filing a case of sexual harassment on behalf of the cobra
with the Ministry of Reptile Affairs.”
The most controversial, written by Lancashire window cleaner Bert Crudhead and titled “Judas Iscariot : In His Own Words”, claims that Jesus was actually grassed up to the Sanhedrin and Romans by Slimy Simon the Canaanite, an apostle with an attitude problem.
The book further alleges Jesus survived a mock crucifixion and established Holy Trinity Hardware, a flatpack furniture factory, in Damascus with common law partner Mary Magdalene, whom Judas describes as “the best sha*g in Tiberias.”
Crudhead, founder of the Skelmersdale Iconoclasts Club, asserts the divine couple and their six children later moved to Srinigar, India, attracted by the temperate uplands climate and low house prices.
It was here, he claims, the holy family became heavily invested in old rope and eventually converted to Buddhism.
Vatican scholars are incensed that this current copycat stream of religious mystery writers are ignoring the New Testament record and digging into the secrets of non-canonical scriptures, such as the Apocrypha, the Gnostic Gospels and the Daily Sport, for chronicles of Jesus’ life, or any viable proof
of his actual existence; with some authors even professing the entire Jesus legend is a myth and Roman Catholicism the longest running confidence trick ever pulled.
To counter this trend, German ex-Hitler Youth thug Joseph Rat-flinger, the 265th pontiff and current Pope Benedict XVI, has instructed Catholic scribes
to publish selected extracts from the Vatican archives’ secret Galilee Weekly Gazette scrolls which purportedly contain eye-witness reports of the Messiah’s miraculous rise to popular acclaim right up to his being nailed aloft on two large pieces of wood at Calvary.
Papal spokesman Cardinal Torquemada, affectionately known around Vatican City as the Hammer of the Heretics, informed The Rockall Times religious correspondent Muriel McVicar that the work in progress, aptly titled
“The Jesus Diaries”, will prove conclusively that Christ died on the cross, was never married nor fathered any offspring, and did not own a flatpack furniture
shop in Syria.
“I speak for the Holy See, the guardians of the Christian faith, so know you’ll trust us on this one,” added Torquemada with a shifty wink, before being whisked off to attend the ritual bonfire burning of a Dangerous Dan Brown effigy in St. Peter’s Square.
Outgoing US Secretary of State Condo-sleezza Rice landed at Rockall International Airport yesterday amid tight security on the final leg of her round the world brown-nosing / say sorry tour, which has received acerbic criticism as being heavy on photo opportunities, very light on discussion and defying gravity when it comes to apologies.
The motorcade route was lined with angry anti-US coalition protesters from Rockall’s predominantly Muslim Al Fatwa housing estate who shouted abuse and pelted Rice’s limousine with handfuls of ripe guillemot shit.
Meeting with leaders of the sacred islet’s Muslim community at the Hall’s Ledge Jai Alai stadium, Rice, sporting a glowing sun tan from her recent Middle East walkabouts through the depleted uranium-contaminated battlefield graveyards, attempted to justify the post-9/11 US invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq, and their current military occupations.
“Those poor people in Iraq, the Kurds, the Sunni and Chers, and the Shites, had their political ambitions stifled for years under the tyranny of Saddam’s dictatorship.”
“Now, since we’ve liberated the country, they’re free to engage each other in a good old-fashioned civil war and sort out their differences once and for all. That’s the true definition of Western democracy we brought to them.”
However Mr. Abdul Semtexvest, whose son was interred at Guantanamo Bay after his sandals suffered spontaneous combustion during a flight to Florida in 2006, was having none of Ms. Rice’s self-serving rhetoric.
Speaking to The Rockall Times outside his Halal Haddock Chippy, Abdul expressed his disgust with the Great Satan’s global bully status, it having been the prime architect of the Afghan and Iraqi wars, and its Agent of Evil visiting his home turf uninvited.
“This condescendin’ slag’s full’a Neocon’ Zionist hypocritical ‘orse shit. One minute she’s demonisin’ Islam like we’re all members of Al-Qaeda or some other looney radical fringe group bent on global destruction.”
“Now she’s ‘ere on some big PR junket, workin’ ‘er friggin’ notice like that other effin’ brainless twat Bush, an’ trying to condone US hegemony and justify why our soul bruvvers in Iran are gonna get it next.”
“It’s only the fuggin’ oil they’re after, and establishing Zionist Israel’s borders from the Nile to the Euphrates. And my lad Ali’s stuck in Cuba wiv no bleedin’ shoes.”
A planned trip by Rice and her group of shifty sycophants to Rockall’s JollyJihad Mosque was cancelled after Muslim religious leaders demanded she grow a beard and wear a full burkha during her visit, and definitely refrain from spouting any more sanctimonious bullshit while on hallowed ground.
The IAEA claim the enriched Gannetonium, a highly radioactive element extracted from seabird guano, could be used to build thermonuclear weapons.
Rockall’s Electric Cooperative recently recommenced using gas centrifuges to enrich its Gannetonium stockpile and claim the radioactive element will be used solely to generate electricity for domestic power consumption.
However, citing statutes from the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, the IAEA Director General, Mohamed El Bastardei, has threatened to lay the issue before the UN Security Council for their scrutiny and possible intervention.
Speaking to The Rockall Times, incumbent U.N. Secretary-General,
Kofi Anmilk, referred to a report by his own chief weapons inspector,
Hans Plix, which categorically states Rockall’s current gas centrifuges, being constructed from second-hand tumble dryers, are incapable of producing sufficient enriched Gannetonium to build a fission bomb.
Director Of Nuclear Research at the Hall’s Ledge power station, Frank Sellafield, a former Cumbrian bagpipes mechanic, spoke in depth on the controversy with The Rockall Times science correspondent Dougie Isotope.
“The IAEA ‘ave to understand our dilemma ‘ere, we can’t go on forever usin’ 12 volt dc batteries to power th’ islet’s infrastructure, an’ relying on a constant supply of driftwood to fuel th’ steam generator went tits up after th’ Gulf Stream current changed course last year.”
“One thing we ‘ave no bloody shortage of ‘ere is bird shi*t, it’s a renewable energy source, an’ we can extract enough Gannetonium to power th’ whole place forever.”
Crusading celebrity critic and roving rock pundit Bono, recently returned from a fact finding mission into sweatshop labour on the Kamchatka Peninsula, pontificated on the IAEA’s fears with his usual crackpot logic and juvenile rhetoric.
“Yeah, Gannetonium enrichment on Rockall might be okay today, but what if they ‘ave a change of government or a coup, an’ a Fundamentalist Druid faction take over runnin’ the place. Then they get into hatin’ everyone else’s Democratic freedoms an’ build nuclear bombs an’ start backin’ terrorist groups to spread their looney ideology.”
Police were called to Black's home in Denham, Buckinghamshire, following reports several trees with council preservation orders on them had been cut back to three foot stumps.
It appears disgruntled neighbours decided to take matters into their own hands and hired unauthorised tree surgeons to invade the property to cut back the trees on Thursday. When Cilla's gardener, Arthur Ragweed, heard chainsawing he called the police and district council.
“It was bleedin’ mayhem,” Ragweed told The Rockall Times. “One bloke ‘ad a white doctor’s coat on an’ a stethoscope round his neck an’ went round markin’ trees wiv chalk an’ givin’ a thumbs down sign. Then this gang of cowboy lumberjacks ran amok with chainsaw’s, axes an’ machetes, cuttin’ down every bloody thing in the gardens.”
“The bastar*ds ‘ave chopped me 300 foot Giant Sequoias an’ Dawn Redwoods down to effin’ stumps, lopped ‘alf an acre of Lancashire ‘otpot bushes off at the roots an’ got well into the Black Puddin’ orchard before the police arrived an’ stopped ‘em. Bloody tree butchers, they want ‘angin’.”
Wilf Vandal, a licensed squirrel strangler and spokesyob for the Sahara Forest Timber Company, told Denham police officers “We gorra call from the local Neighbour’ood Watch to come over an’ sort the gardens out like, cash in ‘and, no questions asked, know wot I means like. No bugger told us Scouse Cilla knew fuc*k all about the job. Bit of a misunderstandin’ an’ all that, if yer take me drift like. Anyways, as the T-shirt sez, Shi*t does ‘appen”.
Three British soldiers of the Extreme Rendition Rangers Regiment were cleared of murder charges yesterday by a military court in Colchester.
The trio stood accused of forcing a teenage Iraqi boy, Ahmad Karheem,
an apprentice doormat weaver, into the Shitt Al Basra canal at bayonet-point as a lesson for looting.
Mr. Rupert Obfuscator QC, barrister for the accused, repudiated the charges
as being based on calumnious reports filed with the military police at Camp Headbanger in Basra by radical Sunni cleric, Abdul Shi*tstirrer.
“In a totally juxtaposed position to the charges of which they stand accused, my clients were actually in the process of forging bonds with the teenage looters, in accordance with the Army’s new Hearts and Minds policy, by providing swimming lessons.”
“It was unfortunate that young Ahmad, whilst just mastering the doggy paddle, was attacked by a shoal of predatory Euphrates catfish and subsequently drowned, despite heroic attempts made by my clients to machine gun the fish.”
When questioned by the Prosecution attorney as to why Karheem had a sack of house bricks tied around his neck, Mr. Obfuscator replied “Ah, this was to further develop his endurance and swimming stamina, a similar method used by joggers who wear ankle weights to improve leg strength.”
The Ministry of Defence’s new Hearts and Minds policy in Iraq has come under criticism from various human rights groups.
Ms. Edna Whinginggit, spokeswoman for Amnesty International, told The Rockall Times war correspondent, Barry Flack, “To me the new policy is very reminiscent of the old U.S. maxim, tried and tested in Vietnam : ‘When you’ve got them by the balls, their hearts and minds are sure to follow.’ “
“British troops forging social bonds with Iraqi children by teaching them such games as minefield hopscotch and grenade juggling is wholly unacceptable.”
Questions were later raised in the media as to why the normally placid Euphrates catfish, usually a solitary feeder, have evolved into forming predatory shoals and attacking swimmers. While being far from conclusive, scientific evidence points to the catfish suffering adverse genetic mutations from ingesting depleted uranium dust being fly-tipped into the Shitt Al Basra canal by Halliburton contractors.
The General Dental Council’s professional conduct committee heard evidence that dental nurse, Rita Halitosis, a former Cracow pole dancer, had extracted a patient’s teeth while Dr. Groper engaged in a beast with two backs frolic from behind.
“It gets him really turned on when he see me wrenching teeth out with the pliers,” Ms. Halitosis told the hearing. “I think the patients’ screams get him going too.”
David Bicuspid, representing the GDC, said “Dr. Groper is guilty of a criminal offence by allowing a trainee dental nurse to extract teeth, regardless of his intimate, close proximity presence and looking over her shoulder proffering guidance as he gave her one doggy style.”
Dr. Nida Handjob, an anaesthetist who worked with Dr. Groper at the Last Choice dental practice in Southsea, told the hearing of further professional misconduct incidents.
“A real randy rum bugger is old Mogamat. One female patient had a bit of a cough so he pulled out a stethoscope and says ‘Let’s see yer tits, sweetie,’ and proceeded to fondle her breasts while listening to her bated breathing.
The patient was very confused and asked if he was a dentist or a doctor.
Pointing to Nurse Rita, he replied she was the dentist and he was the doctor. The incident was quite amusing at the time.”
Ms. Edna Skagrat, the dental patient in question, told the hearing “It was all very confusin’. I just bobbed in for a fillin’ and the next thing they ‘ad me sat in a gynaecology chair, feet in the stirrups, legs akimbo, and Dr. Groper starts mashin’ me boobs an’ listenin’ to me chest wiv a stethescope.
Next thing, the nurse clamps me jaws apart an’ they give me laughing gas, which was a bit of a giggle, then I comes around after an’ I’m all effin’ gums. The bitch ’ad pulled all my bleedin’ teeth out.”
While the General Dental Council intends to forward a copy of their report to the Director of Public Prosecutions for review, Dr. Groper’s name has now been registered in the GDC’s Very Naughty Book.
Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, the al Qaeda leader in Iraq, was killed yet again by U.S. warplanes on Wednesday when two F-16s bombed both his not-so safe houses at Hibhib, just north of Baghdad.
The Jordanian-born Zarqawi, started his military training in Amman’s Armoured Camel Squadron but his radical Islamist and anti-Zionist beliefs
sparked support for Palestinian leader Yessir Marrafat and his Gaza gangsters, with Zarqawi applying to join the Al-Fatah movement as a trainee suicide bomber in 1978, a move that was turned down when he expressed doubts concerning the future career prospects of the job.
Joining the anti-Soviet Jihad rebels in Afghanistan in the 1980’s, al-Zarqawi
quickly became a really nasty piece of work and was hunted down and killed by Russian Speznaz forces at least seven times until he fled Kabul and returned to Jordan.
Imprisoned in Amman for attempting to overthrow the monarchy and establish an Islamic caliphate, he was tried and sentenced to death in 1992. The first death sentence was carried out by firing squad later that year, with a second execution scheduled for early 1993, which Zarqawi luckily missed by escaping from prison.
Throughout the remainder of the 1990’s, Zarqawi travelled around Europe and the Middle East establishing the al-Tawhid terrorist cells, which are marked into the annals of infamy for the waves of suicide bombings they conducted against Western targets, several of which Zarqawi is rumoured to have carried out personally. It was during this ‘90’s sojourn he was bumped off four times
by different European intelligence service hit squads.
Zarqawi and his Tawhid group became active in Iraq following the second U.S.-led invasion, merging with al-Qaeda in 2004.
Targeted as Public Nuisance No. 7 by the Iraqi interim government for beheading people nastier than himself, Zarqawi was assassinated three times in 2003, first by Mossad agents, then by the CIA and finally by Halliburton-affiliated contractors RentaKill, before being killed yet again by helicopter gunships strafing his car outside Basra later that year.
Col. Wilbur Warthog of the U.S. Military Optimism division informed journalists in Baghdad today “This time we know we got him. Troops searching the rubble of the target houses found a severed left foot, size nine, with a verruca on the heel. Now that’s Zarqawi’s shoe size and his medical records from a Kabul chiropodist show the verruca too. Even if he does turn up again, he’s gonna be limpin’ pretty bad.”
Charles Haughey, three times Toaiseach of Ireland and Leader of the Fianna Failures party, whose long and crooked bungee cord political career was dogged by scandal, has died at the age of 126.
Haughey was educated by the Christian Brothers at St. Sodom’s School of Simony in Donnybendover, where one of his classmates was George Colley, the man who would later become his cabinet minister and arch-rival in the Fianna Failures party.
Following his secondary education, Haughey studied quantum number and figure juggling at University College, Dublin, where he qualified in creative accountancy, and at King’s Inn where he studied Advanced Parasitics and graduated as a bottom-feeding barrister.
It was here that Haughey realized he now possessed the precise academic tools to become a successful Irish politician.
The former premier dominated Irish politics with bullyboy tactics for a generation between 1979 and 1992. Often correctly credited with laying the calamitous foundations for Ireland’s current Celtic Toothless Tiger economic slump, his legacy was nevertheless tainted with a series of scandals and allegations of corruption.
Despite his professed desire to fade from public attention, retirement was anything but smooth for the former tacky Taoiseach. A series of political, financial and personal scandals tarnished his image and reputation in recent years.
In the late 1990s the public were shocked to hear revelations about his extravagant private life. At the Professor Moriarty Tribunal it was revealed by Sherlock Holmes that Haughey received more than £8 million over an 18-year period from various benefactors and businessmen. One payment alone of £1.3 million came from the entrepreneur Ben Gunn, a Treasure Island resident, for a shipment of assorted cheeses, parrot crackers and rum which were never delivered.
He was severely ridiculed when it was found he spent large sums of Fianna Fáilures party money on Charvet shirts and expensive dinners in a top Dublin restaurant, while preaching belt tightening and implementing budget cuts as a national policy. While giving evidence at the tribunal, Haughey faced criminal charges for obstructing the work of the tribunal, and also faced angry crowds at Dublin Castle on a daily basis when the excrement finally hit the rotating wind machine.
One fact which sticks in the minds of most Irish people when considering Haughey's true attitude to friendship and wealth was the revelation that money raised by donation and intended for a liver transplant for the late Brian Lenihan, a former government minister and supposed lifelong friend of Haughey, ended up in Charles Haughey's bank account. It was spent on £700 shirts from Charvet of Paris. Brian Lenihan died soon after.
In May 1999 it was revealed that Haughey had conducted a 27-year beast with two backs relationship with the Sunday Independent gossip columnist slapper, Terry Keane. Keane appeared on the live RTÉ chat forum, "The Late Late Shite Show", and exposed Haughey's extra-marital infidelity.
For years Keane had hinted in her bromidic newspaper column that she had been enjoying the company of a top Fianna Failures politician she referred to as "Sweetie." However, she now finally admitted that it was Haughey.
The entire incident shocked the television’s live audience so badly that a veritable multitude defenestrated out of the studio’s windows onto the streets several stories below.
Haughey's son, Seán, who was watching the chat show at his home in County Nepotism, stuck his head into the refrigerator in a suicide attempt but fortunately survived with frostbitten eardrums and a frozen widow’s peak.
Haughey's wife, Maureen, was also rumoured to be deeply pissed off by the televised debacle, with Haughey receiving cold shoulder suppers for months after, sans candlelight.
In August, 2003 it was revealed that Haughey, facing demands to pay millions of euros in taxation arrears on undeclared gifts, had sold his large estate, Abbeville, in County Dublin. It was reported that the deal netted Haughey €35 million before tax. However, at the time of his death, Haughey continued to own his own private island, Irishvillain, one of the famed Basket Case Islands.
Haughey’s health had been in decline since 1995 when he visited the renowned Harley Street proctologist, Dr. Morton Turdburglar, complaining
“It feels like I’ve gorra ‘tater or turnip shoved up me arse.”
Dr. Turdburglar’s examination revealed Haughey didn’t actually have a root tuber or vegetable embedded in his rectum but was stricken with prostate cancer.
Haughey further suffered a heart attack in 2001 and had undergone emergency hospital treatment for a strangulated conscience several times
in recent years.
The Irish Independent today reported that potential eulogists have been contacted to speak at the funeral, including Thomas ‘Slob’ Murphy, Martin McGuiness, Gerry Adams, Bernadette Devilish and the Rev. Ian Parsley.
Arrangements are currently being connived for a state funeral, with a requiem mass at the Our Lady of Moral Turpitude Church in Donnycarney.
Ms. Shagnasty also called for compulsory metering and better education of customers. "If everyone on Rockall saved four litres of water a week by turning off the tap while showering it would be enough to run the sprinklers on the country club golf course and keep the greens pristine this summer,” she informed Rockall Times
Environment editor Lenny Sproggit.
The current drought might also portend an economic downturn for Rockall’s established industries.
The lack of winter rainfall has seen Twatscratcher Brook drop to an alarming low, with a mere trickle wetting the upper rapids, and thus hindering the return of homing salmon to their annual spawning grounds in Loch Lamprey. Fears have been voiced that this may have drastic consequences for the island’s fish canning industry.
Ms. Anita Dorkwrangler, a holistic healing therapist at the popular Tug and Pull Massage Clinic on Slappers Lane, expressed her concerns to the Times.
“If the effin’ water’s rationed ‘ow are we gonna keep the clinic’s spa section runnin’ cos we ain’t gonna be able to fill up the en suite jacuzzis.”
“‘ow would you fancy rubbin’ down an’ jackin’ off mobs of ‘alf-pissed sweaty, stinkin’ smoked ‘addock salemen if yer can’t give ‘em a good scrubbin’ first ?”
Good point Anita, rubber gloves and a nosepeg perhaps.
On a brighter note the patrons of the Fighting Dog and Pikey pub were unanimous in their positive collective opinion that water rationing might see
the draught beer getting stronger.
Baobao explained to The Rockall Times culinary correspondent that she developed her dirt-eating habit at the age of seven, consuming soil attached to grass roots, as her mother’s cooking tasted like shi*t.
“It’s very good for my complexion and a great source of fibre, but I’ve developed a preference for yellow mud recently as it doesn’t contain sand or pebble debris, which have been playing hell with my teeth.”
During the interview, Baobao estimated she’d eaten about three tons of soil since she was first stricken by the urge to eat earth as a child – the equivalent of two Premier league football pitches. She related her favourite meals are organic compost with a dressing of chalk, and fresh turf tortillas.However, Baobao's addiction has had serious implications for her neighbour's roof, made from citrine mud which is traditionally used as a weather resistant material.
Apparently the mud tiles proved exceptionally tasty, with Baobao sneaking out for regular midnight snacks until leaks in the roof during a thunderstorm led to the discovery of the problem and a court restraining order issued against the girl.
The extraordinary practice of earth eating is well documented by medical and anthropology journals and classified as ‘pica’ or ‘geophagy’.
While not being considered a social norm in Western society, the custom is quite common among primitive or economically depressed peoples, and also animals, to augment a scanty or mineral-deficient diet. However, the practice is most often confined to people suffering from chronic mental illness and commonly labeled as ‘nutters’.
In contrast, in the slums of Haiti, people make and eat mud pies on a daily basis, with the earth being mixed with water and sieved through a cheesecloth to remove inedible stones. The batter is then formed into pancakes and fried, selling in the local markets at five for a dime. Fortunately these are not approved for the export market - yet – Tesco’s Finest ? – check the shelves.
Most definitely a radical culinary option for Jamie Oliver to consider on his healthy school meals menu – Topsoil Burgers or Oggy Oggy Cornish Clay Pasties.
When asked if this was in response to widespread public opposition to Britain’s role in the Iraq war, Reid replied “ Actually no…….the new Iraqi government want us to start burying them back here and not cluttering the place up with military cemeteries.”
“Further, we need to get the lads back before they fall over with that nasty Gulf War Syndrome thing. It’s bad enough having them arrive back here in bits, stuffed into body bags, full of bullet holes and shrapnel wounds; never mind limping onto the runway with depleted uranium poisoning, coughing and spewing in front of the press, and making personal injury compensation claims against the government.”
Public opposition to the Iraqi war besides, attention was focused on the opinions of the deployed troops themselves again this week when a Fallujah-based 22nd Special Air Service trooper handed in his notice and walked back to London carrying a burned out souvenir Bradley fighting vehicle on his back.
SAS trooper Arthur Roughcunt told The Rockall Times war correspondent Dennis Whizbang “It was pure ’ell out there…the bloody Yanks are outa control……shootin’ every bastard fing that moves……..themselves an’ us included….and makin’ a lot of bad jokes like ‘Ow do yer like yer Iraqis :
Sunni side up ?’.”
“It’s not wot I signed up for……shootin’ wimmin an’ kids an’ dressin’ up in a sheet wiv a red gingham tea towel over me ‘ead an’ plantin’ bombs outside of mosques, makin’ out like I’m an Arab an’ mumblin’ Insh’Alla wiv a Manchester accent.”
“It’s all bloody daft and gone tits up matey.”
Trooper Roughcunt is currently being held in military custody while charges are concocted against him by MI6 for breaches of the Official Secrets Act and not playing the game according to the established rules of English cricket.
Mrs. Lorraine Kong took her son, King, out of a junior stage production of the 2001 hit movie Planet of the Apes, accusing the Bristol school of racism.
The play, a joint venture production by the Ashley Down’s Syndrome Infant School and St. Simian’s Primate College, was due to be performed later this month.
Mr. Andrew Lloyd-Wookie, head of drama productions at St. Simian’s, told The Rockall Times Arts correspondent, Lenny Lemur, “I selected King to play the part of General Thade as he bears a natural resemblance to Tim Roth’s superb 2001 film study of the character, with those prognathous jaws and the way he continually snarls and drags his knuckles along the ground.”
“Another plus that impressed all the production staff is his talent for juggling a clutch of tennis balls with bare feet.”
However, far from being overjoyed that her son had secured a leading role in the play, mother-of-twelve Mrs. Kong, 17, registered an official complaint with the school, stating: “Everyone is aware of the racist connotations of asking a black pupil to play a monkey, even if he does behave like one.”
In direct contrast with his wife’s opinions, and speaking from the family’s tree house home in Baboon Crescent, the boy’s father, Kenny Kong, an unemployed banana bender, called a Spade ‘a Spade’, informing the media “It am a great shame de dumb bitch ‘as pulled dis racist crap. Dis coulda bin King’s big chance for a cay-reer on de stage. Wot am de harm in it? De folks in de story am nearly all monkeys anyway.”
King himself was indifferent to the whole affair and spoke to the media while swinging from a tree branch in Bristol’s Barbary Park.
“Me Mum’s daft, it’s all bleedin’ political correctness gone gaga. When I went ‘ome from school an’ told ‘er I’d got the part of General Thade in the play, she went ape shi*t an’ started all this racist stereotypin’ codswallop.”
Speaking for the local charity, Support Against Racist Incidents, Ms. Batook Panda, director of SARI, told reporters “There’s no suggestion of deliberate racism, but we question the ‘sensitivity’ of casting King as a monkey, even if the majority of the production’s characters are composed of apes.
Perhaps it might be better if they staged a production of Chicken Run or Animal Farm – anything without monkeys in it.”
Doctors at Paddington Bear MRSA Health Care Trust declared Prescott to be in a stable condition after undergoing surgery to repair a ruptured anal sphincter and replace five meters of prolapsed lower colon dangling from his rectum.
Resident proctologist Dr. Harold Turdprodder informed media reporters “Mr. Prescott’s digestive system’s as muddled as his syntax and housing policies. We discovered during surgery that he’s actually a ruminant, possessing four stomachs. Partially digested cud from his lunchtime silage salad fermented and generated copious amounts of gas which caused an anal eruption of Biblical proportions.”
Parliamentary press secretary Sir Gwyned Le Twit told The Rockall Times “John just keeled over and vented a tremendous burst of flatulence which blasted the seat out of his trousers and left the front bench covered in diarrhoea and intestines. It was a very messy follow-through, but such is the price of gluttony.”
Prescott earned the Pythonesque moniker of Parliament’s own Mr. Creosote after bragging at a New Labour sleaze party banquet he could “eat two more taters than a pig”, a boast he lived up to by guzzling a firkin of pickled herrings and two buckets of chocolate mousse as an appetiser.
The Hansard record for the past week’s Parliamentary session show Prescott making twenty-three visits to the lobby pie stall, four urgent calls to the vomitarium and receiving several cautions from the Speaker for eating Pol Pot instant noodles on the front bench.
Labour back bencher Eric Grassintwat, MP for Scun*thorpe East, told reporters “You should ‘ave seen what ‘e ‘ad for ‘is lunch, I was sat at the next table. Two plates of tripe an’ pig’s trotters, a double ‘elpin’ of cow ‘eel puddin’, then a soddin’ great bowl of silage an’ three pints of extra fat yoghourt. It’s no bloody wonder the lardy tosser’s ar*sehole exploded.”