Wednesday, 28 February 2018


I wrote a post about 'Dull News' in Newspapers about a year ago. It tackled the mind numbing banality and often vapid news stories which erupt in small town England. The sort of thing such as, 'Dog bites man' and other reports of mind numbing inanity. You would think in an age where all the world's news is just the flick of the wrist and a finger fumble away there would be something important to report. But small town England (bless em) is content within its parochial and short sighted viewpoint and is keen to ignore a global theatre full of majestic drama and frank insanity. Can we really blame folk in Chippen Camden if they contemplate, not at all, the complex weave of international politics and its Machiavellian machinations? Much better to drink herbal tea on a fine summer's afternoon and smell the roses in ones perfectly maintained garden. Simpler times, indeed.......

So there we have it, for good or for ill, Flaxen's dullest news stories from a place not near you, possibly.

Shock horror! How could it be that 'Boots the Chemist' is closed? Perhaps the shoppers came outside normal opening hours. Surely this story needs to relayed to all the good burghers of Smalltown so it doesn't happen to them. Arse biscuit.

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Poundland thief has struck again. What could our master criminal be using the tin foil for? I suggest he is making a tin foil hat to save himself from an alien abduction and a good hard anal probing. Fear not good citizens for Inspector Mugumbo of the Yard is relentlessly persuing the thief with his crack 'Poundland Squad'. Fumble biscuit.

Sunny Birmingham, is a city not far away from my home town of Tipton. Clearly there is mysterious link between the Papa's visit and his resignation. Could it be that after visiting this incredibly crap city, Pope Mugumbo suffered a deep malaise culminating in a desparate despond precipitating his spiritual desolation? I think we should be told. Only Brum can do that. Crack biscuit.

Why not release your anger and frustration with a good 'tanty'? You could always take out your frustration on the little kiddies, especially the one who comes into your shop for a 5 pound item and labourisly counts out the amount in pennies.... Deserved of death in my opinion. Finger knob.

Shit, aren't all 2 year old boys noisy? Why not offer the little brats 10mg of Valium with their blue pop. That'll slow the little buggers down. Muffin bollocks.

 Pareidolia strikes again! Imagine the Editor: "Hold the press, we need to get this picture of spilt milk into the early edition. Look, it slightly resembles a sheep with black legs, how fucking amazing. You better be quick because there is a light drizzle forcasted and we may lose this beloved artefact and the populous of Taunton may never see the like again". Ferret, moist crinkles.

Shit on a stick. Imagine you are a patient on a busy ward and instead of a gown the harrased over worked nurse produces a pillow case. As you already have the requisite number of pillow cases you are at a loss of what to do with the surplas variety. Mayhap you could cunningly fashion a gown with a pair of scissors and surgical tape. Or you could place the unadultered garment upon your head and shout: "Wibble bollocks". I prefer the latter; it takes less work. Fart numbing buttocks.

Yea, this why I advocate involuntary euthanasia for the over 80s. Come on, let's face it most octergenarians are completely useless and gaga. Would be a kindness after all, Poor Alf has not received a letter in years, except from a rather frisky Maltese, called, Peanut. Woof, bloody woof.

O dear, the hat up the tree phenomenum. And a red 'bobble' hat at that. Surely this is some sort of spoof? Published on the 1st April, perhaps? No further commentary required.

Refer to previous. The hat was of obvious sentimental value. Clearly little of criminal consequence occurs in this soporific backwater. The police should instead harras motorists and extort money for minor infractions. O bugger, they do this already.

That's enough today folks. Today is my birthday and I have a duty to engage in some serious drinking with my second bastard seed. 


  1. Hope your second is treating you - although you've got to be nice to him: you're at the age where it's worth bearing in mind that aforementioned bastard seed will, together with any other progeny, be the ones choosing your care home. You have to ensure they don't ship you back to Tipton to Mrs Makumbo's geriatric store.

    Secondly, whilst still slaving to partially satisfy the voracious appetite of the UK tax authorities (twinned with the Russian Mafia), I was presented with a book covering the very same topic of local newspaper headlines (Penguin Books, ISBN 978-0-241-95217-7) and it is filled with a glorious multitude of similar world-shattering news.

    My favourite is from The Welwyn & Hatfield Times -

    1. PS
      I forgot to say Happy Birthday, and may you have many more of 'em. (Birthdays, that is, not progeny).

    2. Thanks Ted. No more kids for me. Last time I checked my semen I had a lot of mutant sperms- double headed and double tailed fellas.

  2. Happy Birthday!
    Wish my lot had jobs, then they could buy me drinks...

  3. Thanks for the birthday wishes. As for the drinks: I had to buy most of them.

    1. At least you should be spared an enforced dotage in Tipton...

    2. Ted, couldn't think of anything worse......