Friday, 10 April 2009

World’s Oldest Woman Celebrates Birthday

On the sacred North Atlantic isle of Rockall, the beloved of weather forecast enthusiasts across the globe, Candida McTwat celebrates her 176th birthday, giving photo journalists a rare treat of the varicose veins lining her centenarian upper thighs as she performs a series of flesh-revealing erotic pole dancing moves around a No Parking sign outside the Cormorant Strangler’s Arms.

Fit as a fiddle and still sober-ish following an evening’s session of downing pints of draught Guinness and Sunny D’ mutant orange drink chasers at the pub, the sprightly Candida enjoys the limelight of so much attention, posing for more photos and exhibiting the daring ‘risque’ side of her personality.

“I used to be a real horny bitch on heat years ago, but me sex drive dropped off somewhat when I passed me 125th birthday. Must be me age,” Candida mirthfully informs reporters attending her party. “I just can’t believe I’m the world’s oldest woman – oldest person in fact – but I do feel it a bit tonight after the pole dancin’ an’ blowin’ out all those effin’ candles on me cake.”

Journalists descended on Rockall to attend Candida’s birthday and throw a lavish party for her after discovering she was 176 – decades older than the great-great-great grandmother from Kazakhstan - Soso Tossoffa Borat - claimed by her government to be the world’s oldest woman at 130 this week.

“She’s only a spring chicken yet.” Candida tells reporters. “All this bullshit she’s spoutin’ about rememberin’ Tsar Nicholas an’ Lenin – I remember Lenin bein’ born – an’ a right cheeky little twat he was as well.”

“I even remember young Vickie –Queen Victoria to you blokes – when she were just crowned – meetin’ that Kraut bugger Prince Albert – him what she married. Handsome sod he was – an’ hung like a bleedin’ donkey too – pretty obvious when he was wearin’ his ballet pants.”

Candida, who has buried nine husbands and borne twenty-four children, rarely watches television but keeps up to date with world affairs through the internet and boasts her own blog and Facebook page.

“I likes to keep up with the news. I know that lyin’ twat Tony Bliar stepped down – has he ever told the truth about anythin’ since? That Scot’s bloke Brown took over, didn’t he – I never voted for him though.”
She lets out a raucous cackle of laughter when one reporter remarks that nobody voted for him.

Asked the well-clichéd question of ‘what’s your secret?’ viz her longevity, the star of the evening replies “Eatin’ a strict diet of raw haddock and killiwacky bird’s eggs – soft boiled. Raw seaweed’s good too – plenty of iodine – but yer have to wash the gull shit off it first.”
“I gets plenty of exercise an’ walk about ten miles a day beachcombin’, collectin’ me own firewood – an’ I chop the bugger up meself too.”

As Candida’s birthday presents are loaded into the trunk of her laid-on limousine she’s asked to comment on which one she likes best.
With a wry smile she selects a luminous lime nine inch rampant rabbit personal vibrator and informs a gobsmacked media “This is the heavy-duty model the girls at the pub bought since me old one broke down from overwork.”

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