Avatar Happy Death Day, Mr R. Brek!

It was exactly four years ago that a very good friend of mine died.

Not a lot happened on 24 June 2010, at least for the rest of the world. It was a Thursday. Apparently in some minor tennis tournament some guy beat some other guy in a really long match. Does anyone remember it though? Of course not. It is confined to the annals of history.

What unraveled for me though was the beginning of something special. In life Mr R Brek was, in all honesty, disgusting. A colleague at work had passed me him because they didn’t want him anymore and thought I would prefer his company. So in order to not waste him and his good name I knocked up a batch. It tasted akin to the material they line hamster cages with. I’ve sampled better food off the bathroom floor. One bowl was enough to put me off for the rest of my life.

Sometimes good things come out of bad things though. In life he could bring no joy but shortly afterwards we became great friends. He sat on my desk, smiling away without a care in the world, ready to lift my spirits whenever times were hardest. If there was a joke to be made he was the first to make it. It seemed appropriate to place a ‘Parental Advisory Explicit Content’ sticker on his face given how risque and daring he could be at times. When I changed jobs I brought him home to carry on the good vibes, besides not everyone appreciated his particular brand of humour. It made sense to put his feet up and enjoy life a little.

When I first gave him the idea of a ‘Newsboost’ Twitter feed he scoffed and threw apples at my flat cap, however eventually he came around to my way of thinking. It was at his instance, and his enthusiasm, that I gave him the ‘entertainment’ side wherein he flourished in a manner I would not have imagined four years ago.

So here we are, in 2014, still knocking around like a couple of twenty year olds. I wish him all the best on this day of days and trust that you will all raise a glass in his honour.

Ladies and Gentlemen, to the memory of Mr R. Brek who gave more in death than he ever did in life.

Avatar Newsboost – Bag For Life Binging Bad For Britain

The simple bag for life has a simple idea; it is your bag and you have it for life. There is nothing else about it. It doesn’t want to make your life any better apart from helping you to carry your shopping and occasionally maybe a child or a small dog if they can fit. So what could controversial MP Tub Barsley possibly have against them?

He could have a lot against them is the correct response. He has so much against them that he’s practically turning all his beef into a portion of spaghetti bolognaise that could feed seven elderly relatives for the duration of Lent (unless they have happened to give up meat, tomatoes or pasta for it). Mr Barsley has recently published an article damning bags for life because whilst good in theory they do not live up to expectations.

“People buy ’em all the time,” he writes, “and they clearly have good intentions but they never get used. You’ll find ’em at the back of cupboards and wardrobes or under carpets and hiding in trees rather than in your hand at a supermarket. They’re not convenient enough to carry around. We could easily point the fingers at the people who forget to bring them shopping but I would never accuse anyone in my constituency of such a thing. It’s much easier to blame an inanimate object, and for that reason I urge everyone to boycott bags for life.”

One person who doesn’t share the same view as Mr Barsley is Geraldine Ambicott, a voracious young gardener from Milton Keynes. Geraldine has developed an obsession with bags for life and has been known to purchase up to seventeen at the same time, even if she does remember to brings hers with her when she is shopping. Those suffering from this affliction are known in the community as ‘Baggers’ or ‘Bag-nep-pollops’ in Wales.

“I just like them. I feel compelled to pick them up and rub them against my ankles whenever I get the chance,” Geraldine explains, “On my last count I had around three hundred in total. The staff at my local supermarket now refuse to serve me if I am holding, clutching or drooling over a bag for life and I don’t blame them. I know I have a problem; I just wish that someone could sit me down or tie me to a chair and help me. I don’t think Mr Barsley is fair with his comments; bags for life are helping the environment and that can only be a good thing. It’s just chumpos like me who give them a bad name.”

The most publicised Bagger is pop sensation Quinze who declared last month that she owns five outfits made of bags for life and has been known to wander around Asda at 2am putting jars of peanut butter between her legs.

Avatar Newsboost – Toaster Terror Trauma

The world was plunged into confusion and terror today as it was revealed that a growing number of toasters are using desperately violent measures to make themselves known following a decline in toasted-based breakfasts.

The growth in the “healthy breakfast revolution”, which has seen people more inclined than ever to sprint to work with some sort of energetic biscuit soiling their mouth, has pushed the standard staples of breakfast, such as cereal and toast, to one side and off the edge into the bin. There is such a large range of yoghurts and seed bars, and with 2014 containing less time than ten years ago people just don’t have the time to sit down and heat up bread anymore. The result has seen toasters become not only redundant but sad and a little bit cranky.

Toast hasn’t been this unpopular since 1959, in the year that saw bread publicly state that it, “hated everyone” and that “the world would be better off without humans”. Bread retracted this statement some days later but it had a lasting effect that wouldn’t see toast recover until some years later. At least back then you could argue that this was self-inflicted; the modern world hasn’t been particularly kind to toast. So much so that a large group of toasters has organised an attack in the West Midlands.

Toasters from in and around the Birmingham area have barricaded themselves in a local Wetherspoons and are threatening to singe the ears of several cats caught earlier this week unless their demands are met. So far these appear to simple: more toast, less not toast, more crumpets and bread buns and perhaps a waffle here and there. An official spokesperson for the toasters is yet to comment, although we would imagine that what he has to say would be indecipherable.

The local police have had to call in a specialised Toaster Sheriff, Sherilyn Lucas, to enter into talks with the toasters to smooth over the tension and hopefully come to a satisfying, or snackisfying, conclusion without the need for burnt kitty ears. Let’s hope that it’s less toast fur and more toast her for doing a sufficient job. Only time will tell if these puns are actually funny.