Cringe Factor Judge Overcome by Truth

Simon Cowell, the controversial resident slimeball judge on TV’s American Idol and the X-Factor, was rushed to Smegmadale-on-Sea’s prestigious Harold Shipman Clinic for Medical Excellence in the early hours of this morning after suffering convulsions and going into shock.

Cowell underwent emergency exploratory surgery to determine the cause of his attack and while doctors announced his prognosis is ‘fair to good’ they further stated he could, hopefully, suffer a relapse at any time.

Ms. Ivana Slagsky, a Ukranian Dominatrix who was with Cowell at the time of his attack, told the media “We were into a spot of FemDom and I was flicking his pathetic flaccid genitalia with my riding crop, then decided to be really cruel and switched the TV channel to the X-Factor and made him watch it.”
“The next thing he looses a horrible shriek, throws up his oyster flambee supper and has a fit. I had to put the boot in several times to quieten him down”.
“I think the shock of watching himself on television brought on the attack, when faced with the truth of what a tosspot and a walking abortion he really is”.

Dr. Clayton Mingepiece told reporters “During surgery we discovered Cowell’s brain has shrunk to the size of a stoat’s prostate gland and his skull was full of festering excrement, which often occurs with celebrities when ego surpasses intellect and the shock of self-realisation hits them. Just look at Sharon Osbourne, totally brain dead. Take Posh Beckham, a perfect walking example of a celebrity zombie. Nice tits and a head full of diarrhoea. IQ zero”.

Cowell, who started his stage career as the arse-end of a pantomime donkey, has become known in entertainment circles as ‘a right nasty orange cunt’, and was voted last year as the showbiz personality most women would like to piss on from a dizzy height, and the one most men would prefer not to, even if he was on fire.

Perhaps best known for his signature phrase “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re an utter useless twat”, Cowell studied the mean and spiteful showplace tactics of other famously nasty entertainment personalities such as Judge Judy, Klaus Barbie and the Weakest Wanks quizmaster Anne Robinson.

But with an annual income exceeding US$ 50 million (£14:28p at current forex rates) the 93-year old Cowell can afford to be as insulting as he likes, often leaving his show’s contestants in tears due his offensive comments on their lack of talent and even physical appearances. It has never, until now, seemed to occur, or matter, to the Brighton-born sociopath that he looks like a bag of shit tied in the middle and has the personality of a Turkish caravan site.

While admitting to Daily Sport correspondent Willie Wagrat earlier this year that he regularly undergoes Botox treatments and gets weekly burned orange suntan spray jobs, he vehemently denied he takes it up the rear passage with other men, and only occasionally from his personal Dominatrix’ nine inch strapon.

Fellow X-Factor judge, the equally-nasty Pierced Moron, told reporters "Get well, or worse, cards, and flowers, may be delivered to the clinic's reception desk. No nettles, thistles, poison ivy or deadly nightshade, please".

Arthur Pewty now an ex-Crime Kingpin

Reputed gangster and organised crime boss Arthur J. Pewty, a shop worn and rather threadbare former Monty Python sketch character (1969: series 1 / Episode 2) was today found dead at his Neasden flat in Norman Wisdom Tower Village. Yes dead, really dead, at long fucking last.

Police forensics officers investigating the death are not ruling out fowl play as it appears he was beaten to death with a blood-stained rubber chicken that was rammed up his rectum post mortem : beak first.

Rumours abound that Pewty was targeted for a gangland hit in retaliation for encroaching on the Smegmadale Cartel’s drug turf.
However, police intelligence sources claim the murder bears the classic trademark of a serial killer known to stalk online satire news sites, bumping off resurrected fictional comedy characters who are long past their sell-by dates and keep popping up on front pages when they should be gathering dust in the archives.

Police detectives are studying CCTV footage, recorded in the hours prior to Pewty’s death, showing someone dressed in a suit of medieval armour and carrying a rubber chicken over his shoulder, entering the deceased’s block of flats.

Pewty’s next door neighbour, Alice Slagrat, told reporters he wasn’t a happy man and had been receiving medical treatment for depression since Deidre, his long-term spouse, cuckolded him and took off for a new life in South Ossetia with their iffy marriage guidance counsellor, Eric Idletwat.
“’e woz pinin’ for somethin’, but I’m fucked if I knows wot. The fiords maybe, or just ‘avin’ Deirdre back so ‘e could double-tap ‘er”.

Neasden Community Service officer Wilton Minge informed the press “Hopefully that’s the last we’ve seen, or heard, of the annoying little twat on The Spoof’s front page, or elsewhere, unless he pulls a fuckin’ Lazarus and pops up again in a Celebrity Diary section”.

Patrons of the local Fighting Dog and Pikey pub remember Pewty for his hilarious Michael Palin impersonations, dressed in a grubby off-white flasher’s mack’, trying to sell a dead parrot to the landlord, Elsie Kray, and singing songs about a popular brand of luncheon meat.

Funeral to be held at Neaden sewerage works, Wednesday 10:30am. No flowers.

Impeachment Case no. 652 filed against Philippines' President Gloria Arroyo

Opposition groups in the Republic of the Philistines have yet again filed their regular weekly impeachment complaint against President Gloria Buwaya Arroyo, but admitted to the media they still have more chance of shoving butter up a porcupine’s arse with a red hot knitting needle than achieving their sworn objective.

Arroyo has fended off impeachment complaints like a Jedi Knight wielding a light sabre over the past three years due her domination of the Casa sa Magnanakaw (House of Representatives).

The complaint accuses Arroyo of corruption, extra-judicial killings, torture, lacking a sense of humour, aggravated halitosis, witchcraft, hoarding kippers in her knickers and illegal arrests, mainly in keeping with the inherited political tactics and strategies of her late ex-president father.

Opposition congressman Ronnie Baboy Zamora said of the complaint: "I haven't seen much interest from other congressmen apart from keeping their heads down to avoid a bullet with their name on. They also fear she might put a curse on them too. Just look at that third nipple on her left cheek : definitely the mark of Satan on the face of his evil witch concubine”.

But in a nation renown for political corruption existing and thriving at all levels of government it is little wonder they fear getting snuffed if they so much dare to rattle the bars of their gilded cages and challenge the purpose or edicts of the ruling elite.

Arroyo’s domination of Congress sprouts from knowing where all the skeletons are buried, and too, those still rattling round in closets and wardrobes. While many of them were interred by her own obedient military henchmen, quite a few met their demise during the reign of her late father, ex-president Diosdado Tarantado Macapagal; who was eventually stricken by a constipated conscience and chewed his own head off after a series of haunting dreams where he was visited by the ghost of Harry Stonehill.

It is speculated by Manila’s cynical media hacks that members of the congress and senate are so crooked and bent that if they dropped down dead ‘en mass’ there would be no need to dig a hole to bury them, but simply wind them into the ground like corkscrews.

Current foreign opinion polls say Arroyo is now the most unpopular Philippine president since the last most unpopular president, who happened to be the porcine charismatic clot and vaudeville clown Joseph Estrada, colloquially known by the hilarious sobriquet of Senor Tulu Nangangaliwa.
Arroyo pardoned the deposed Estrada in October 2007, paving the way for his release a month after he was sentenced to life in prison for massive corruption, economic plunder, and being a thorough all-round crooked twat.

While Arroyo is supported by a sycophant army and a boot-licking paramilitary national police force, and too the parasitic and powerful Catholic Church, her term in office expires in 2010 and she is not eligible to seek re-election.
Unless, of course, she pulls a ‘Ferdinand Marcos’ stunt and declares martial law on the eve of elections, imprisoning the opposition candidates on charges of terrorism (or perhaps, ironically, corruption).

Analysts speculate that political heavyweights are unlikely to join any bid to have her removed by impeachment, preferring to conserve their energies, and necks, for the 2010 election campaign so they might get their turn on the infamous Pulos ng Pagnanakaw gravy train through electoral campaigns of empty promises and blatant lies, perpetuating the big C-N combination : (no, not Chicken Nuggets) Corruption and Nepotism.

Senator Salazar Corruptioni, ex-president of the national airlines carrier PAL (Philippines Always Late) and leader of the minority Kapalmuks opposition party, told reporters he had seen ‘better organised riots’ than the current performance of Arroyo’s administration.

Arroyo’s husband Mike, affectionately known around Manila as ‘Boyet Buwisit’, has managed to embroil his President wife in a series of further corruption scandals through his own mendacious business dealings and influence-peddling.

Prominent elder statesman, Senator Utang na Loob, told reporters he personally would back the popular post-menopausal sociopath Senator Miriam Defenceless Santigago, aka Senora Balatkayo, for his party’s presidential candidate in 2010 on a ‘Winds of Change’ ticket.
With the Manila-based Social Weather Station (SWS) reporting that some 3.3 million families experienced not having anything to eat on several occasions since Arroyo took power, a Wind of Change (positive variety) might be a definite improvement to ease their daily privations.

In a country burdened by a culture of corruption and the promotion and perpetuation of superstition by the influential Catholic church, the prime national exports have evolved to mail order brides and housemaids for the Western global market, with slave labour the number one export commodity for the cruel and intolerant Middle Eastern Arab states that stake their futures on the fugacious black oleaginous lubricant that is pumped from the bowels of their foul desert lands.

Cursed by the IMF, the World Bank and their own Oriental speciality-brewed affliction and yoke : the Asian Development Bank, whose sole purpose, from its inception, was to develop ‘DEBT’ and demand, through the sinister guises of ‘Conditionality’ and ‘Good Governance’, that structural adjustment policies be implemented to enforce the foreign privatisation of the Philippines’ nationalised utilities and natural resources.

Evolving the government system from one of a blatantly counterfeit Democracy to an actual ‘Corporatocracy’, a ‘quid pro quo’ for keeping the Spanish and Chinese oligarchy’s arses in a state of guaranteed perpetuity, has been the sole purpose of every elected president since Manuel Quezon.

Gloria has continued to perpetuate this policy on behalf of her shadowy western Zionist banking Masters, maximising profits for foreign corporations, regardless of the social and environmental costs. This has further created a condition of debt-obligated materialism throughout the nation, wherein even religious purpose and individual spirituality are compromised at all levels of society.
But the cost of control is the cost of the soul. Such is the tax on the wages of sin, as Gloria will eventually learn to her eternal cost.

Pity the proletariat population of such a beautiful multi-island nation whose guaranteed annual stipend of typhoons is further blighted with earthquakes, tsunamis, floods (and droughts), volcanoes, landslides, Islamic terrorists / Moro separatists, and a Communist New Peoples’ Army.
Only a cruel and capricious God could further saddle and curse them with a government whose corruption defies description and is administered by political agents of self-interest.

Ay nako, Mang Pinoy, if it wasn’t for bad luck, you wouldn’t have any. “Hoy! Gising naman!”

Nobel Prize for Literature won by Obscure Scribbler

His name is totally unknown in Britain, the United States and other similarly-remote parts of the Third World.
Aye, a name rarely mentioned, unless in whispers, anywhere else around the globe, and especially not in polite company. The odd Albatross might comment on it to a passing Sooty Tern, and then on, in typical seabird gossip fashion, to some ostracised Gannet, to a flock of migrating puffins.

In fact, as of him winning the Nobel Prize for Literature last week, even his own publisher hadn't heard of him.

Rumours abound on media channels that as of the selection and award process, where lots of names are scribbled on expired Stockholm tram tickets, then picked out of a hat, even the Nobel Prize jury hadn't heard of him.

French Nobel juror Nobby Sarkozy told the press that he had dreamed a little bird murmured in his ear that an author whose name sounded a bit like Jean Migraine Gorblimey Le Clezio would win the Literature prize.
He had thus cast his vote for the unknown novelist, who surprisingly enough turned out to be of Gallic origin when the Nobel arbitration committee did a Google search and found the name in the classified section of a Mauritanian telephone directory, listed as a GORGI-registered koala wanker and unemployed novelist.

However, Swedish juror Slevin Tonk was at odds with the award and informed reporters "I tink it is all a great pile of shit. This French dog-fucker Teakozy having little birds whisper in his ear and tell him who to vote for and nobody has heard of the man. I tink sometink stink in Denmark and it is not Hamlet's socks."

The 126 year-old novelist, who wrote his last piece, a schoolboy essay titled 'What I did on my holidays in Bologne', now lives in the remote mountains of Mauritania at the prestigious Ras al-Smegma Happy Hermit Recluse Resort, sharing a bungalow with celebrity nanny-basher Lucky Lucan.

The announcement last week that JMG Le Clézio was the 2008 winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature was greeted with a predictable chorus of indignation, raspberry blowing and rear-end flatulent salutes by the Anglophobe media.

"Le Clézio: Who he?" shouted the headline in the Los Angeles Dog Wanker's Weekly News.
"I've never read his books. In fact, until Thursday morning, I'd never heard of the twat," confessed LA Times columnist Barton Scrogknot, as he went on a classical whinge binge, deploring the way North American novelists have allegedly been consistently ignored and overlooked by the Nobel Prize jury since the dawn of time.

(Apparently the last true North American to win the prize was Shitting Bull, the Hunkpapa Lakota Sioux chief, in 1877, for his highly acclaimed biography of General George Armstrong Custard : 'The Seventh Cavalry can Kiss my big Red Ass')

In the London Evening Standard, columnist David Pisspot was outraged at the thought that the Nobel Prize had gone to an author whose works only exist in Egyptian Middle Kingdom Hieroglyphs and archaic Babylonian cuneiform script.

Le Clézio's work, Pisspot had discovered, is barely available to non-Aramaic speakers: "Why can't I read books by a noble Frenchman?" he complained. "All I've been able to find so far, after a week searching, are a few extracts and quotes from his most famous book, 'Francois Fucks a Piggy-wig', which seems a bit simplistic about noble savagery. But what do I know, especially writing news copy in the Donkey an' Carrot at this time of the afternoon?"

Critic and literary commentator Mark Lawton revealed his own fruitless attempts and frustrations in learning more about Le Clézio, employing a revolutionary Polish internet search engine that consisted of several empty night-time beverage tins connected by lengths of taut string and routed through mole tunnels across Europe and North Africa.

"Inevitably, the choice of this Google-thin writer will revive accusations of obscurant nepotism," he grumbled in TheSpoof. "Did he ever write anything? Was he a member of the elite French Foreign Camel Bonkers Legion? Was he really addicted to deviant sex with small furry mammals? Did any of his nine wives have any idea?"

The Francophobe press, naturally, saw it differently. As they were quick to point out, there is nothing obscure about Le Clézio's prolific literary oeuvre.

Indeed, he had been tipped to win the Nobel Prize since the storming of the Bastille in 1789, and has been the recipient of the most inventive and prestigious French literary prizes for an author who never wrote a thing worthy of comment, was read by nobody, and has as much substance as HG Wells 'Invisible Man'.

Killer Chef Cooked Dead Boyfriend

A wannabe celebrity chef has been found guilty of porking his male lover to death, in a Viagra-fuelled drunken sex romp, with a twelve inch strap-on salami. He then compounded his crime by slicing off several choice cuts of the victim’s flesh and cooking them on his garden barbeque.
The ‘choice cuts’ apparently included chuck, ribs, tenderloins and rump.

Anthony Moorhen, 36, the consolation prize winner of Mr Gay UK 1993, had denied murdering 33-year-old Desmond Titwit, claiming diminished responsibility while under the influence of drugs and alcohol.
However, pieces of cooked human flesh were found in Moorhen's kitchen at Buggery Terrace, the prosecution informed the jury at Smegmadale Crown Court.
Police forensics officers took samples of the barbequed flesh, which they commented tasted ‘quite yummy’ due the special marinade Moorhen had prepared them in, and determined the DNA matched that of the deceased.
A Beef Wellington containing the deceased’s penis was recovered from a refrigerator, which the forensic officers found ‘very tasty’.

The murder was described by prosecutors in court, as ‘terrible, horrific and bizarre’, and several other choice adjectives that court reporters couldn’t be arsed to write down.

The jury was informed the two men had been involved in a relationship ‘of some kind’ but Moorhen was confused about his sexuality and didn’t know whether he wanted an ‘Adam and Steve’, Madam and Steve, or a Frank and Earnest type affiliation.
Moorhen, a chef at McMongol’s Chew and Spew, told the court when he won the Mr Gay UK consolation prize in 1993 he had a girlfriend at the time and was also heavily into sodomizing cormorants and stray cats.

On the day of the killing both men had been drinking White Lightning and meths cocktails before going to the bedroom, where Moorhen claimed the deceased, Desmond Titwit, an
unemployed ferret stretcher, had tried to rape him.

“Me ‘ead was all fucked up like, yer know. Wot wiv der drink an’ der Viagra chasers and all de Ecstacy me an’ Dessie ‘ad bin swillin’ down our bleedin’ necks.”

“Anyways, Dessie’s after getting’ into me arse like, but I’m fucked if I knows wot I want. Am I gonna be a taker or a giver? Do I want Dessie’s cock up me shitter or should I give ‘im one instead. So I does like, gives ‘im a Liverpool kiss right on ‘is beak to stop der twat maulin’ me”.

“Then Dessie gets all teary-eyed an’ submissive wiv der drink an’ me smackin' 'im an' goes into one of ‘is bondage fetish moods. Then ‘e wants me to tie ‘im up, so I does like then gives ‘im a good rogerin’ up the bum wiv ‘is strap-on salami, an’ then next thing ‘e lets out dis weird croakin’ noise an’ drops fuckin’ dead on me, der rotten selfish twat, which wos absolutely bleedin’ typical of ‘im."

Judge Basildon Quimp, in summing up the case, told the court Moorhen had shown no remorse for the killing, compounding his crime by cooking and eating body parts from the deceased, and keeping the cadaver in his chest freezer for further culinary use.

“Mitigating circumstances might have been considered if the defendant had shared with police the secret of his delicious recipe for preparing the barbeque marinade.”

Dubai Beach Sex Brits Found Guilty

A British man and woman have been sentenced to three months in jail in delightful Dubai after being found guilty of having sex on a sewage-swamped beach.

Candida Twatrot, of Rutting Road, Smegmadale East, and Vinny Flatpack, a resident of the town’s Sodomy Gardens, were arrested on 5th July at a popular doggying rendezvous on Ras al Slutbag Beach some hours after attending a champagne brunch at Dubai's five-star Les Al Fresco hotel.

Evidence against the cavorting couple was given in court by Sheik Ali bin Wankin, head of Dubai’s strict religious police, the nation state’s Gestapo-fashioned Killjoy Commission for the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice, known as the Muttawa,

Sheik bin Wankin informed the court “They were very drunk and making the beast with two backs on a public beach after dark. If he had been enjoying the carnal company of a goat that is acceptable, but he was poking his penis into the sex holes of a foreign white trash infidel sow-dog slapper bitch that was naked too, not even her socks on”.

The pair denied charges of public indecency and having unlawful sex, stating it was well after dark and they were situated on an unlit secluded part of the beach.
Mr. Flatpack’s statement to the court that a ‘spot of mutually-consented outdoor sexual gymnastics was common in British parks after dark and a very healthy pursuit,’ elicited a bout of disgusted gavel-bashing from Judge Mohammed al-Plonker.

Speaking with the foreign press prior to the trial, the couple gave their side of the story.
“We meets up at the champers brunch and finds out we was both from East Smegmadale like”. Miss Twatrot told reporters. “Anyways, we gets a few bevvies down our necks like an’ it’s goin’ dark, and I’m lookin’ down the beach an’ see all the raw sewage gettin’ washed ashore and that really turns me on cos I’m right into raunchy scat play an' water sports sessions.”

Vinny Flatpack continued, “Yeah, so we gets down on the beach, strips off, an’ starts givin’ it mobs of foreplay, rollin’ round in the shit and the sand. Next thing I’m givin’ Candida one rodeo style and this mob of dildos come runnin’ down the beach, screamin’ an’ what’ ave yer. They’re all dressed up in sheets wiv teatowels on their ‘eads an’ I thought it woz some kinda Halloween joke thing, then one sticks 'is foot right in the crease of me arse just as I’m on the vinegar stroke and shouts ‘Infidel honky pigs : you’re under arrest!”

The pair were at Dubai's Court of the Last Resort to hear the ruling and have been ordered not to leave the Emirate.
Their Rwanda-trained defence lawyer Hassan al-Twatter, had insisted they would be proved innocent and was upset by the court’s decision of a custodial sentence.
"We are making an appeal against the verdict. I have 15 days to appeal and find the reason why the judge gave them a three months sentence. Probably because our first bribe was too small".

While the case has turned the spotlight on the decadent and lascivious lifestyles of the 120,000 British residents of the United Arab Emirates, the BBC's Dubai correspondent, Aldous Dorkpuller, says there have been concerns lately that tourists are ignoring the Emirate's strict Islamic laws.
He personally estimates the outcome of this case will be a warning that such drunken and debauched behaviour will not be tolerated in public, unless the perpetrators are Arabs and related to Dubai’s Al Maktoum ruling family.

The case has highlighted for Brits at home yet another sound reason not to go working, or take holidays, in overseas dumps with crap legal systems and shithouse laws. Experienced sources claim even a weekend spell in one of Dubai’s jails is as much fun as chemotherapy or having one’s haemorrhoids cauterised with a cigar.

Dubai’s Wahabism state religion, a stricter version of the everyday common or garden Sunni and Cher styles of Islam, subjugates women to the lowly status of animals and also enforces the wearing of a burkha, covering them from head to toe when in the shower, and further bans them from operating wheelbarrows or flymo strimmers in public.

Exotic Tropical Insects Invade UK

Exotic species of spiders are making their homes in the UK according to a coven of dandruff-ridden, spotty, four-eyed anoraks writing in the latest issue of the Arachnid Stompers Weekly.

Researchers believe arachnids and a myriad of other tropical insects arriving in imports of food and plants are now able to survive and spread thanks to the UK's climate going completely tits-up and England being classed as semi-tropical. Well, this week anyway.

The new inhabitants include an African species of false widow spider (aka the Adulterer or Bigamist spider : one whose 8-legged husband is actually still alive) Some entomologists believe the deadly black widow spider could be next to invade, searching for fresh husbands to embalm and suck the life juices out of once they’ve had their typical wicked, feminine way.

Conservation group Buglife wants import rules to be strengthened to stem the tide of alien species invasion which has coincided with the UK being swamped with semi-skilled plumbers and decorators from Europe.

Barry Stagbeetle, director of Buglife, told BBC News: "Other countries in the world take great care about what biological crap they allow in, because it can contain pests that can damage our goods, our livelihoods, our health and our biodiversity. Look at all the Polish bricklayers and Albanian swan-roasters sneaking in here and the damage they’re doing to our great British traditions and environment.”

However, Sir Miles Offcourse, spokesperson for the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs ‘Yeast Logic’ department said that a new strategy was in place to "tackle the threat to the UK's native biodiversity from unwanted pest species which have 'hitchhiked' into the UK on plants and a wide variety of unscrubbed African and Asian refugees".
When asked to elaborate on this ‘new strategy’ Sir Miles promptly complained of stomach cramps and a migraine and pissed off sharply.

John Chrysalis from the British Arachnological Society said his organisation had experienced a vast increase in the number of enquiries about "strange spiders" being found in people’s baths”.
One new inhabitant is Steatoda paykulliana, aka the Swaziland Pitbull spider, a native of Southern Africa, which weighs in at about 5 kilos / half a meter in length and can rip the head off a Pembroke Welsh corgi with a single snap of its mandibles.

While this spider had been spotted in the UK in the past no colonies have been recorded since the RAF nuked the last batch on the Isle of Wight two years ago, wiping out the entire human population in the process and rendering the island uninhabitable for the next 50, 000 years.

However Dr. Daniel Dungpucker, head of the Insect Identification Service at the Natural History Museum, said this was no longer the case.
He informed reporters "We have recently discovered webs of the Swaziland Pitbull spider all along the south coast, from Minge Point to the River Merkin and established well into the New Forest too. It looks as if it‘s here to stay unless we get one of our famous British cold spells to wipe it out. Another Ice Age perhaps, or something similarly exciting".

The arrival of exotic spiders and insects that had hitched a ride on various imports was not a new phenomenon, said Dr. Dungpucker. "If there was a warm period they would be able to survive, but a cold snap would kill them off," he explained.
"But now, our increasingly warm climate is starting to suit many more spiders – very aggressive ones too - and once they come in, they are able to stay put. A bit like the Poles and Albanians and vulgar Bulgars etc."

Steatoda nobilis is one such spider that fits Dr. Dungpucker’s classification of aggressive.
Known to entomologists as the Asbo Spider, it is thought to have first arrived in the UK from the Mediterranean in the 1960’s.
For decades it remained in a small area within Devon, but about 15 years ago it began to spread, in various mutated forms, and can now be spotted all across the UK, being colloquially known as a Hoodie or Chav spider.
Dr. Dungpucker emphasised "It has a nasty stabbing bite - and some people can have a bad reaction to it, such as dying".

The Mutton spider (Segestria florentina), another non-native biting specimen, has also been on the move this past year, spreading from the South Coast much further north to the Shetlands. It is a large spider, measuring up to 1.5 meters in length with green iridescence on its jaws and can often be spotted somewhere along the M1 / M6 motorways route heading north to the Scottish Highlands.
When asked by an incredulous media why it was known as the ‘Mutton spider’ Dr. Dungpucker replied “Because it eats sheep, silly”.