International news

An Arab country’s ambassador to Dubai has had his marriage contract annulled after discovering the bride was cross-eyed and had facial hair.  The woman had worn an Islamic veil, known as the niqab, on the few occasions the couple had met. 
“This wouldn’t happen in a Western society,” said a spokesman from somewhere.  “In Glasgow, where I come from, we use alcohol to deaden our perceptions and enhance the beauty of the opposite sex.  I married a lovely girl whilst under the influence of sixteen bottles of Special Brew only to discover when I became sober, six months later, that it was actually my greyhound ‘Fast Henry’.  No wonder we were having trouble starting a family.”

An Australian performance artist has set a Guinness world record by swallowing 18 swords at the same time.  Chayne Hultgren, also known as the Space Cowboy, beat his own 2008 record by swallowing the swords.   
At a press conference several journalists suffered lacerations to the lower body when Mr Hultgren bent to tie his shoe laces and later paramedics were called when it was discovered that he had become impaled on his chair after sitting down too quickly.  
“It’s what we call a deep seated condition,” said somebody who may have been a doctor.  “To be blunt he’s going to have to carry a supply of corks and try and put all this behind him.”


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Snow on Mars

Nasa’s Phoenix lander has unearthed compelling evidence of ice on Mars, mission scientists believe.

Chunks of a bright, white material found in a trench dug by the craft have disappeared over four Martian days, suggesting they have vapourised.

Local inhabitants are keeping a careful eye on events.

“What’s the little alien guy doing today, Spangle 10?”
“He’s still rummaging around in his mud trench, Fruitella 521.”

“Has he been eating more rocks?”
“No, it’s more worrying than that; he seems to have found our stash.”

“Our stash?”
“Yes, Spangle 10, he uncovered our ‘blow’.  Our ‘Gold dust’.  ‘Cecil’ is exposed.  The ‘snow’ is on show.  The ‘flake’ is there for the take.”

“Has he noticed?”
“I don’t think so, I’ve been smuggling it away when he’s not looking.  He’s definitely a sandwich short of a picnic, that one.  He seems obsessed with performing the same repetitive tasks.  Backwards and forwards.  Dig a trench.  Dig another trench.”

“You know that repetitive, obsessive behaviour can be a symptom of addiction, don’t you Spangle 10?”
“That’s it then: we’ve gone and created an addict.  What shall we do with the poor little guy and the rest of the stash?”

“See if we can sell it to him at 120 dollars a gram before he discovers the planet’s practically made out of it.”

 Mars snow





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Runner beans

I see from the local paper that the Immigration Department have raided one of the town’s eight Indian Restaurants.

Officials stormed into the Rim of Fire Restaurant shortly after doughnut time last Thursday.  Three of the staff tried to escape when the police demanded to see proof of identity, work visas or fifty pound notes.

The two South African waiters, Fitch MacOat and Getma Hat, ran through the storeroom for the street but were intercepted by Constable Happening who managed to beat them to the ground with a frozen Alsatian dog’s leg, (or was it an Alsatian dog’s frozen leg?).

Eastern European head-waiter, Emay Droppadish, made it up the stairs and onto the rooftops and is still being hunted by the authorities.

“He attempted to grab some provisions on the way out,” said Sergeant Incident, “Unfortunately for him; all he picked up was a bag of corn and a six litre container of coffee beans”.

The hunt is on for an agitated man with dilated eyes and a rapid heartbeat.
Police suspect he has gone to ground.

  Beans of the coffee variety              

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The price of immortality

A college at Cambridge University has been renamed after a former student who donated £30m.

New Hall will become Murray Edwards College after donors Ros and Steve Edwards and founder Dame Rosemary Murray.


Immortality for sale! 

I quickly contacted my old secondary school in sleepy Middle England, only to find that after many years of attempting to educate the local farm hands, inbreds and village idiots they have given up, closed it as a Comprehensive and sold it to the Church of Scientology. 


However, the new owners seem pretty nice people and told me that for the right sort of donation I could still achieve immortality.  For £100 I could have one cubicle in the boys’ toilets named after me or for a mere £50 an oven in the Food Technology Unit (kitchen) would carry my name.  A tenner gets you your own hook in the cloakroom.


Alternatively, for £1m I could avoid death altogether and fly off in a space ship.


Mmmm… what to choose?


I only have bad memories of the toilet cubicles.  Chronic diarrhoea might possibly force a pupil to face the bullying that would accompany a toilet visit, otherwise it was literally a no go area.  No fond recollections of the kitchen either, although it was easier to urinate there.

What about a coat hook?

No bad experiences for me personally, but often I would walk past the cloakroom and see small boys hanging by their blazer collars from the hooks.
“’Morning Joseph, you ok?”
“Yeah, I’m ok Pete.  Just hanging out, you know.”

You had to laugh and keep walking in case the teachers hung you up as well.


In the end I gave the Church £25 to have my name carved into the wood of “Wackers Ashy”.  A mad History teacher named Randall intimidated and punished the pupils with this long, thick, ash cane.   

If “Wackers Ashy” is ever used in anger again the name ‘Dr Pete’ will be immortalised into the soft flesh of a young person’s buttocks.  
Although, come to think of it, it will say ‘eteP rD’.


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Who do you do?

New York’s coolest sexperts Em & Lo have brought out a book called Sex; How to Do Everything.    I haven’t read it, I’d rather stick pins in my eyes, but for anybody who wants to Do everything it’s probably great. It tells you how to do each other, how to do the exhaust pipe on your car, how to get the cat done and how to do the Sunday Times crossword. 

Em & Lo say: It’s great to share your fantasy with your partner.   If a threesome turns you on, but you don’t actually want to go through with it, try a pretend threesome together.   

Last night in bed I suggested to the wife that we try a threesome.
“Who with?” she enquired, picking up a large paper-weight from the bedside table.

“No one,” I replied, “well maybe a pretend person.”
“A pretend person?” She was gripping the paper weight very hard.
“Yeah, a sort of fantasy person.”
“We’re not going to want the same thing; so that would be two pretend people?” 
She squeezed a droplet of water from the paper-weight.

“Yeah, yeah, I suppose so.”
“Right.   Well you stay your side of the bed with your pretend person and I’ll stay over here with mine.  Ok?”
“Yes, dear.  Are you going to put that paper-weight down now?”

Paper weight

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Cruising for a bruising

Lancashire man, Mick Tempest, got a surprise when he woke up to find that somebody had stolen the York Stone garden path from his allotment. ‘When I opened the bedroom curtains and looked out I couldn’t believe my eyes,’ he told the Burnley Express.
In a similar incident retired Enfield man, Ed Aphon woke to find his entire garden had been stolen and replaced by a large mass of water. Charging out of his bedroom he fell down three flights of red carpeted, gold bannistered and unexpected stairs before coming to rest in a Pan-Pacific ‘Eat-all-you-like’ Buffet.

“It was only as I hurtled past the P&O foreign exchange desk on deck two that I remembered that I wasn’t in my north London council bungalow but actually on a two week Mediterranean cruise,” said Ed.

“Mr Aphon sustained very few injuries from his fall down the stairwell of the cruise ship due to the lavish and plush fixtures and fittings,” said a P&O spokesman. “His main injuries were caused because he fell face first onto the sea food grill and a lobster claw penetrated his pyjamas trouser front.”

“My doctor warned me against rich seafood, luckily it was only my pride that was injured,” said Ed, examining his groin.
“I wouldn’t be proud of that,” scowled Mrs Aphon.


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