We wish to apologise for the following: A man with a mullet, Harry Styles, something that looks like a bog brush, and some very special poetry.
We’re so very, very sorry.
We start with some depressing news:
Edinburgh Live: Edinburgh chip shop runs out of deep-fried Mars Bars
This is End of Western Civilisation stuff. First it’s the deep-fried Mars Bars, then it’s Irn-Bru. Why doesn’t Sturgeon do something?
And not just kiddiewinks, he also fears for bus passengers, oldiewonks and the disabled and get your fingers out, you pencil-necked desk jockeys at the council.
Manchester Evening News: Lads terrified as ‘Britain’s biggest spider’ found in a front room in Oldham
Spoiler: It is not.
However, we are prepared to overlook this because of the top-drawer pointing. It’s almost as if they were trying to get onto this page.
Well, I’ve got news for you, lads. It worked.
Yorkshire Live: Alton Towers makes kiddiewinks sad after fault closes down rides
Just look at those faces, Mr Towers. JUST LOOK AT THEM.
New Zealand Herald: Driver seeks compo after pothole breaks a wheel on his car
This one’s from New Zealand, which is currently dragging itself into the 1980s, so you’d be unsurprised to see grown men wearing a mullet and flip-flops.
The fashion choice of champions.
Oh wait, it’s ‘Man hits out at clothing choices for men in Leeds city centre’. To be fair, the dinosaur is also lining up to make the same complaint.
“There’s nothing – NOTHING – for carnivores, but shop after shop pandering to the needs of herbivores. Have I gone extinct or something? You can get arrested for eating meat in this country, you know.”
He means it too.
But there is compromise in the air – he say’s he’ll park his truck round the corner if he’s offered a $30 shopping voucher. That’s £17.65.
Don’t spend it all at once, mate.
Kent Online: NHS worker falls down hole
She’s an NHS worker, I think she might have mentioned it once or twice.
Anyway, extra points for saying it could have been an oldiewonk or a kiddiewink, so back of the net.
Quote of the week from the police report on this:
“Firework let off inside – he is on his stag do. Has turned out his pockets – however is dressed as Big Bird.”
The last stag do I went on, I was home by the time Match of the Day started. It was in Swindon, I lived in Hampshire.
Regret to report that people are still going to Pontins of the week:
Lowestoft Journal: Regret to report that people are still going to Pontins
You will be pleased to learn, however, that they have vowed never to return.
Wirral Globe: Regret to report that people are still going to Pontins
He too has vowed never to return, which begs the question – what were you doing there in the first place? Have you not read the reviews? People on Tripadvisor are upset that there’s no option to score zero out of five.
I’m afraid we’re going to have to mention Harry Styles
We don’t do this kind of story, because it looks like that we’re gloating in their misery. BUT it’s here as a warning against using secondary sales platforms like Ticketbastard, the Pontins of secondary ticket sales platforms.
The continuing story of the Cornwall man who claims he’s John de Lorean’s son and insists that he has every right to sell De Lorean branded motor cars …err… continues:
Cornwall Live: Cornwall man who claims he’s John de Lorean’s son and insists that he has every right to sell De Lorean branded motor cars has been told he can’t use the name, but insists he’s going to sell his converted Reliant Robins to [checks notes] the Taliban in Afghanistan
You’ve got to admire his persistence, and the fact that he reckons people want a hilariously modified Reliant Robin in the first place (and to be fair, they probably do).
Southern Daily Echo: Ophidiophobe* starts petition after 18 foot Burmese Python escapes from its home
Very strong ‘Think of the Kiddiewinks vibe’, but fair play to him for getting 800 signatures, mostly from small, flightless birds.
* Ophidiophobia: The fear of snakes
Important news from the north of the accursed island:
It doesn’t look like a giant toilet brush, it is a giant toilet brush.
As our Scottish pals would say, it’s there to push particularly massive jobbies round the bend, while giving you perfect 5G coverage on your mobile phone, so you can stream it on TikTok.
Sing along if you know the words:
I found my thrill
On toilet brush hill
On toilet brush hill
Where I forced down a brown trout the size of Venezuela because it wouldn’t flush, and I met you.
I, for one, welcome our new nut-scoffing overlords of the week:
‘Squirrels in her loft’ is not slang for anything, sexy or otherwise.
They’re up there, planning. Scheming. Eating nuts. Scheming some more, probably. And then they will strike and Western civilisation will fall.
And we’d be right. These little gits have form:
Yet here we are, nine years later, and we still have squirrels. Not going very well is it?
Childish vandalism of the week:
Crude, juvenile vandals, we salute you wherever you are.
Local newspaper letter of the week, with bonus CAT:
Local newspaper poem of the week:
Mickey from a village near Bracknell has been out in the sun too long, and thinks he’s a flower. Bless him for sending this to the Maidenhead Advertiser.
And if you thought that was quality, but not quite quality enough, I’ve covered up this poet’s identity to spare him the flood of fan mail.
I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. This is the good stuff. This is Keats, this is Shakespeare, this is Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz.
Don’t have nightmares.