Avatar Newsboost LATE EDITION – ‘Fat Ankles’ Strikes Again

Residents in the North-West part of England are under threat once again from the notorious local graffiti artist, Fat Ankles.

Photos obtained from a reliable source show the mysterious tagger going at various walls in the loveliest parts of Lytham St Anne’s. They had previously been spotted in areas of Preston, Blackburn and Kirkham, and seem to strike at random rather than following some kind of sensible pattern.

Members of the Local Authority are baffled by the exploits of the graffiti artist because no matter how many security cameras they put up they are still without any footage of the damage being done.

“It’s unusual to say the least,” rambled Audrey Rampart, head of the local police constabulary. “This person or persons leave no trace of ever being there apart from the aforementioned message of ‘Fat Ankles’. I mean, are they having a go at everyone with fat ankles or do they call themselves ‘Fat Ankles’? It’s not a great nickname by any stretch of the imagination. If it were me, I would use something much more imaginative like ‘Anal Jumper’ or ‘Florida Cottage Ski Jump’. Now those names are eye-catching.”

As well as the diverse locations of graffiti, there are no consistencies when it comes to font, font colour or punctuation. Sometimes they use capital letters, other times the message is entirely in lower case. Once it was even attempted with numbers with a ‘FAT ANK135’, written on the garage door of Barney Botham’s Limousine Rides and More, a profitable business from Blackpool, with no explanation for doing so.

It seems as though the rampage, if you can really call it that, will continue unless someone can step in and put a stop to the whole affair. You can bet that it won’t be Audrey Rampart. “I once did a stakeout and fell asleep five minutes in. Caffeine makes me sleepy rather than keeps me awake. I woke up the next morning with a coat hanger in my hair and glitter on my teeth. It wasn’t even really a stakeout, we don’t do those in this country. I was sat waiting for the drive-through at McDonalds to quieten down.”

If you have any information which may assist the police, please send it to the police.

Avatar Newsboost – Worried Wizard Woes

The newest issue of ‘Magic Monthly’ has rated every kind or type of wizard in the modern world and it has left several feeling slightly embarrassed. The magazine had been threatening to do this for the last few months and it seems as if September, following a summer of misery for fantasy and everything else in general, was the best time to unleash it.

It will come as no surprise to regular readers of the periodical that the usual crowd occupied the top five spots: magicians, mages, wizards of light, wizards of power and Dynamo in no particular order. In a shock turn of events though many that had previously rated pretty highly were left lurking in the lower numbers. This was the first time in twenty-five years that the novelty of Shit Wizards has not transferred into the popular levels of the top twenty.

“I don’t understand,” muttered Jack Hengly, leader of the Shit Wizard Collective, “everybody loves a shit wizard. I’ve made a career out of it. You go to pull a rabbit out of a hat and you accidentally spray mace in some kid’s eye. It’s a time-honoured tradition, especially in the UK. Quite what we did to earn number thirty-seven out of fifty is anyone’s guess.”

Lark Fonglebund, the representative of the Gangly Wizards, was also left similarly dumbfounded at their entry at number forty-four. “We’ve never placed anything lower than the late twenties. I was discussing this with my brethren last night via Skype and none of us could get our head’s around it. It feels very personal, I have taken this very personally. It’s practically bullying. They should feel ashamed of themselves.”

It came as no surprise to anyone when Chav Wizards hit number fifty straight away. There has never been any call for Chav Wizards, nor has anyone ever requested them, nor have they ever done anything deemed worthy by the magic community. In fact, nobody knows where they originally came from; it was as though they emerged during the night when everyone was sleeping and it was too late to do anything about them. This overall impression of those who can cast a spell to double their benefits in a matter of seconds hasn’t changed in decades.

“Look mate,” slurred Barry Scraggle, with a tab protruding from his mouth and a can of Newcastle Brown Ale in his battle-scarred hand, “we’ve had a bad reputation from day one. I don’t know why the f*cking f*ck cloud panty w*nkers have a problem with us. Yeah, all we do is drink cider and argue loudly in public places but that’s not against law. Well, part of it is. Some of it is. We know how to have a good time and those other hoity toity bookworm a*se cloggers are too busy making chapstick out of dragon’s earwax to notice.”

Not everyone hit the ground face first though. Animal wizards saw a surge in popularly, especially Weasel Wizards who landed the number nine spot a clear five places ahead of last year’s winners, the Beagles.

Avatar Mrs Miggins is up to no good

Back in April, we learned that Mrs Miggins was redeveloping the heart of her enormous property empire. 75 Farringdon Road, the fine property where either Ian or I fell head over heels in love with the lucrative old crone, had the builders in.

I’ve been back to see what she’s done with the place, and I have to say I’m shocked. Take a look for yourself.

A respectable office building, you think to yourself. A fine example of the tasteful architecture and prime locations that have made Mrs Miggins the property magnate she is today.

I thought so too. But then I noticed something. Have you seen it? Look closer.

There it is. Miggins has handed her shiny new building over to Richard Sisskind of the Crossland Otter Hunt – the only UK hunt that chases otters across land and, presumably, then kills them in horrible ways.

Otters don’t deserve this. Otters are lovely. And I demand to know why Mrs Miggins – once the love of my, or maybe Ian’s, life – has taken on this brutal new pastime.

One thing is for sure. We will not be moving the Pouring Beans office to 75 Farringdon Road. No need to send me those fivers.

Avatar Bean Grab – Jan 2020!

Look everyone, look over there…
Just there, you see that green bit, yeah, just behind that… no left a bit.

Haha, whilst you’re all looking over there I’m sneaking off to Chris’ statistical bean cupboard and pinching one. What are you going to do? You’re off looking at that thing over there.

Got one!

Whats that? You cant see it? Keep looking… Yeah just behind that bush….

Suckers.

Avatar Pirate alert

He’s going to shiver your timbers
He’s likely to buckle your swash
His pieces of eight count big numbers
His galleon’s full of his dosh

A roistering-doistering fighter
His enemies all have been sank
He’ll make your pockets feel lighter
Just before you walk the plank

It’s not like he wants to be Bluebeard
It’s a lifestyle that he just got trapped in
His parrot got fed up, his crew’s weird
He’s Ian the daft Pirate Captain

Avatar Dear Zara

Dear Zara,

It’s been a while since we last spoke. How are you? What have you been up to? Did you manage to achieve all your hopes and dreams or are you still pissing your life up the wall like the rest of us? Well, whatever it is you are doing to pass the time I hope it is as sweet as a kitten’s smile.

Anyway, the real reason I wanted to get in touch was this:

So what do you think you’re playing at, hmmm? You put your cup on the ground and walked away. There were several bins within the vicinity, well within a five minute walk. In fact whichever direction you chose you would have been close to somewhere you could have disposed of it in the correct way. Hell, you could have left it at my office and I would have sorted it out. By leaving it on the street like an arse you have effectively made yourself an arse forever.

The next time I have spaghetti hoops I will be sure to leave the tin in your garden. When I choose to have a bottle of Jack Daniels to myself I will be throwing it through your living room window. You may think this is too much a punishment for one such tit as yourself however I don’t think it is. I would sooner push you out of a plane thirty thousand feet in the air rather than let people like you walk the same streets as me.

All the best

Ian xxx

Avatar Stickless

Well, we knew it would happen, but we didn’t think it would be this soon.

The Stick is gone.

We knew, of course, that The Stick had got itself a taste for adventure. We knew also that it had been deposited at the foot of the wrong kind of tree. So perhaps it’s no surprise that it has already started its next adventure. But we are, nonetheless, sad to see it go.

(By “we”, I mean anyone who agrees with me. You may wish to clarify your own position in the comments.)

It is my hope that The Stick has gone on to a new life playing fetch with an enthusiastic collie dog, or perhaps is now propping open a garage door somewhere. We can hope.