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Plato, the Greek philosopher, said that our everyday world contains people, trees, stones etc. But there is a higher reality, a world of Forms.

If there exists a person, a tree or stone in the everyday world these things are inferior to the ideal or the Form. The Form transcends the ordinary world, therefore there must exist an ideal of these everyday things. If a stones exist and these stones are not the ideal they must descend from that which the Ideal, the Form. It follows that a perfect stone must exist in a higher realm. A stone which is the perfect stone from which all other stones are derived.

Therefore an ideal tree exists of which all other trees derive their shape, their Form. It follows that an ideal, a perfect person must exist from which all persons are mere imperfections of that perfect Ideal or Form.

The word Meta means that which transcends and encompasses. There is a Meta-stone, a Meta- tree, and a Meta-person.

Basildon is a town shaped in the Form of its ideal. A Meta-Basildon. A perfect Basildon of which our town is merely an imperfect copy.

Ghost hunters are those intelligent people who accept the wisdom of Plato and search for that which is not of this realm, but exist in a higher plane of existence.

Mavis and Bert Higgins of Felmores, Basildon, are Ghost Hunters. Their quest is to find and prove the existence of things that dwell in a place that transcends our own. In a Meta-place. And it is they who hunted for and found METABASILDON.

Mavis was the first to explain and expound the discovery her and Bert made. He was down the pub at the time of the interview.

“Spooky isn’t it?” she said pointing at a photograph of a ghost they photographed in their bedroom with their new digital camera with a zoom lens. The apperition was white and indistinct but certainly their bedroom.

“Bert is not used to modern technology; he can’t even work the VHS we bought ten years ago in Asdas for £95. He has an old Brownie box camera, but I keep telling him you can’t get the film for it now. It was me who suggested we invest in a new and modern up to date digital camera. I’m glad we did otherwise we would not have been able to photograph the ghost that hunted us that fateful Guy Fawkes night yesterday and print it out on your new Tandy PC which came with a printer.”

Our top ghost writer Lips Dribbling, interrupted Mavis and asked if he could use the toilet. Mavis took down her white dressing gown that hung on the bedroom door near an open window and showed him the way by a lighted candle. Their electricity had been cut off for non-payment.

After Lips had urinated, Mavis, over wine and chips, went on with her story,

“We have photographed many ghosts, which seem to roam around washing lines. Yes we believe in a transcendent world. A world that is privy only to people like me and Bert who have gifts. And having a gift each

we went in search of the other worldly Basildon, which we knew existed because we both read Plato’s book, The Phaedo which we picked up in a charity shop for 20p. We found the MetaBasildon just five miles from here. It calls itself Wickford, but we liked it so much we knew it was a metaphysical Basildon on which all other towns are based. “

Just then Bert burst threw the door drunk sending a draft that blew up Mavis’s dressing gown that she had replaced on the bedroom door. Bert screamed,

“It’s here again!”

Dick Dibble: This programme has been the cause of much debate over the past 50 years. Welcome to Basildon Question Time.

Large important sounding music rises up.

Dick Dibble: And with me here in The Moon on the Square is Jack Stawman, leading right wing New Labour spokes man for the rich. Miss Aural Baghdad the most powerful Muslim laptop dancer in Britain; Brian Hogwash, Tory spokesperson for the wealthy; Adolf Hitler Jr. one eyed raciest and public toilet predator; and lastly but not least Gary Glitter all round child molester. Welcome to the panel.

Big round of applause.

Dick Dibble: First question please.

Fred Berkas: Dose the team think that we should eat toffees while watching telly?

Dick Dibble: Jack Strawman

Jack Strawman: Before I answer that most important question may I say that New Labour is not racist. Nor are my constituents most of all are Eskimos who fought along side us in the Cold War.

Dick Dibble: Adolf Hitler Jr.

Adolf Hitler Jr: My father was in the Mounted Psychopaths during the Second World War whereas Jack Stawmans father was a conscientious objector lazing about in a Japanese prison camp refusing to fight.

Dick Dibble: Let’s have the views of the audience. You sir -

A Black Man: Mr. Hitler Jr. you have a yellow stripe down your back and a man with who aligns himself Communist Reds and the Green Party. I think you need a black and purple eye.

Huge round of applause and laughter.

Dick Dibble: Miss Aural Baghdad.

AB: Churchill was a man who liked big cigars and whiskey which means he was a smoker who drunk. He also said we will fight on the beaches of Afghanistan, in the fields of Iraqi and in the mountains Norwich.

DD: Gary Glitter.

GG. I want everyone to be in my gang.

Dick Dibble: Brian Hogwash.

BH: Enoch Powell said that the Thames River will run with blood. Did he go too far when going to Dulwich and ending up in Tulse Hill?

Dick Dibble: Adolph Hitler Jr. you appeared on You Tube with the head of the KKK.

AH: Only the non-violent KKK and the head was cut off by Muslims. We were only promoting Kentucky Kack Canary food.

Dick Dibble: Can I belong to your gang Gary?

GG: Get a black wig and a silver suit.

Dick Dibble: The woman on the right.

Woman on the Right: Adolf Hitler Jr. you have never walked around Brixton at 2am have you?

AH jr: No.

WH: Therefore you are afraid to, which shows a marked disregard of knife and drug culture. How prejudice can a man be?

AH Jr: If I came to power every British citizen would get the opportunity to stab a black man in a drug fuelled frenzy. I never said that.

Dick Dibble: Miss Baghdad.

AB: Hitler Jr. brings the understanding of different cultures into disrepute. I am spending my winter holiday at Southend-on-Sea which proves I am a cockney fundamentalist.

Dick Dibble: Gary Glitter.

GG: If you want to be in my gang you must be female and under 14.

Dick Dibble: And that is precisely why I want to be in your gang. Thank you panel and thank you audience. Next week we will be in Wickford to discuss abnormality.

In the wake of a car accident that claimed the life of their granddad a Basildon family, The Moaners told reporter Lips Dribbling that they have decided to "just call it quits."

"In devastating times such as these, reaching down deep and finding hope simply isn't possible," said Mavis Moaner (47)

"The untimely death of granddad is more than we can bear much less use as an experience through which to learn about ourselves and grow closer. We have had several deaths lately and we are fed up with it."

"Honestly, I don't see us looking to one another for solace during this trying time, or really looking to one another for anything ever again," Mavis continued. "This is all just so…sad. Much too sad for us to pick up the pieces and bravely move forward."

In the days since the accident, The Moaners have not seen an outpouring of mutual support, and the junction where the old man was killed remains completely free of any improvised memorials featuring flowers, poems, snapshots, or crosses.

According to Mavis, a candlelight vigil in Basildon town centre was "totally out of it" as the family agreed it would not bring any closure to the situation at all and would, instead, make everyone even sadder.

"Reflecting on the lives of these friends and family members and how they touched so many during their time with us, we are buggered if we are going to be sad any more. It would only remind us all of how awful and insurmountable this whole situation already is. No, we have to gather ourselves up and begin to look to the future. Specifically, a future in which we abandon this doomed place and go our own separate ways. It's what granddad, Rich, Jamie, Beth, and Kyle would have wanted," Mavis added.

According to the local priest Father O’Boozal, the healing process will never begin, and the emotional scars left by all this tragedy will remain open, festering wounds, worsening each year, for decade upon decade, until every member of the Moaner family is dead.

"One day we'll all be able to look back at this and feel just as heartbroken, helpless, and angry as we do right now," Mavis said. "We could perhaps find some solace in the thought that those five dead friends and family live on forever inside each and every one of us, but they don't. They're dead."

"When something this terrible happens, it's important to remember that it's all part of God's plan," said the manager of the local pub Bill Grassland as he fell sideways off the bar.

Basildon council leader Tory Billycock (57) has reportedly not offered his condolences to the family, nor has any of the Cabinet, all of whom were too busy talking about themselves.

Basildon is to get its own death camp.

The death camp will be constructed in the middle of the shopping centre and hold 300 Royal Mail Postal workers.

Shoppers will be allowed to poke the prisoners with sticks and shout abuse at them. The inmates will wear striped pyjama like clothes and starved of food so that they look skinny and haggard.

The public of Basildon are outraged that their Christmas cards will not be delivered and demand retribution.

“The only way to deal with these mail terrorists is to make an example of them.” said Avis Bunnage (63) “The death camp will teach them a lesson and I for one will be at the barbed wire seeking revenge.”

Gas Ovens will be part of that revenge. The inmates will be put into ovens alive, but their screams will be covered up by loud 1940’s music so not to disturb the delicate feelings of local residents.

One resident said, “I am fed up with being held to ransom by these union types who do nothing but go to work late and leave when they feel like it. The more we burn the better.”

The gas turning on ceremony will be held by Lord Peter Hyde-Sinclair, CEO of EnergyCosto who will be awarded a huge bonus for his bravery.

One inmate was allowed to speak,

“All we were trying to do was stop the bosses using cheap labour and selling off the Royal Mail to fat cats.”

He was dealt with by a head bashing. New Nazi Neighbourhood spokesperson Harold Hitler said, “How are multinationals to survive if we allow rats like this to sabotage Basildon’s globalization program? Without the rich getting richer what is going to happen to the world famous trickle down concept from which we, the poor have benefited so much over the last fifty years? No, we cannot allow a callous few working class people to spoil it for the majority of the working class who have enjoyed the Trickle Down Effect.”

We all know that it is the leaders of industry who create wealth. Without their money, where would the rest of us be? We must return to the good old days of Upstairs and Downstairs, master and servant, captain and cook. Why have we not seen all the BBC plays that depict how wonderful it was then? Plays like Emma and Henry the Eighth. Days when Kings and Queens treated us with equanimity, tolerance and gentle kindness.

The idea that one single man can seek his fortune without the help of others and pull himself up by his own bootlaces is a good and God given idea. And that is why we need a Death Camp in Basildon so to burn alive the corrupted and outdated view that a poor man needs the help of his fellows to surmount the wealth of the few.

So next Saturday surround the Death Camp and taunt the prisoners for their insubordination. Only when we have killed the last union member can we be sure that our minds will be full with the grace of heavenly religion and we will be at last free in the knowledge that Poverty is Wealth, War is Peace and Obedience to the law is Freedom.

BASILDON MENTAL HEALTH UNIT NOT SECURE

The residents of a mental health hospital want security measures increased.

The patients are living in fear of local residents. One patient suffering from homicidal attack syndrome said,

“When I look out of my window and see Basildon people pass by I am overcome with dread. The very sight of these scruffily dressed, mad looking dregs of humanity fills me with utter dismay. Are they the result of some diabolical scientific experiment?”

Clare House in Pound Lane, Bowers Gifford is admired for its Grade 1 listed architecture and beautiful landscaped gardens. The mental health unit is proud of it’s recorded for keeping out undesirable locals.

Top psychiatrist Dr. Oliver John Twist said,

“Our patients are deeply concerned about local residents going on the run, especially when they are out on unsupervised visits to public houses and lap top bars like the infamous Cats Bootlegger Club. Why do these obviously deranged citizens feel the compulsion to fill themselves with alcohol and gawk at proto-prostitutes to attain a semblance of happiness? My people have no such compulsion. They are happy with their mild pursuits of Ludo and walking around the gardens. “

Another patient who is a weak willed hedonist said that she was terrified at the sight of a crowd of youths passing by shouting and swearing and falling over and being sick in the gutter then fighting each other for no apparent reason.

“When I saw them rampaging down Pound Lane in a drunken orgy of sexual expletives. It terrified me. We need higher fences to keep them out. I never want to escape my perfect world of peace and tranquillity here at Clare House. I often spot police helicopters hovering above our unit. I am glad that the police are there to protect us from the mentally disabled of Basildon.”

A nurse who works at the unit said that she had seen at first hand the abnormal behaviour of some Basildon locals,

“They wonder around in circles. They sit for hours staring in to thin air, then suddenly get up and wander into another building, scratch a hardly intelligible note and pass it with money across a counter, then with no goods bought stagger back to resume their somnambulistic stance. Around and round they go every day. On occasion one might suddenly leap and shout. ‘My horse won!’ And they call my patients loony. The quicker we get our electric fence up the better.”

GOD STOLE TOILET ROLLS FROM OFFICE.

The newly resurrected scrolls found in Israel testify to the fact long known to Biblical scholars that God stole toilet rolls from his office.

Jacob shall wipe the forebum of Moab and tear down the pants of Sheth and thereby flush away the sins of mankind with pens.

His righteousness will forever uphold the law that is told to Office ware in all of the Lords land that he who stealth toilet rolls or pens of yea rubber stamps or yet sponges to wet fingers for postage stamps and take the spuriously home will with zeal be banished from Israel and all the tribes that dwell in Felmores or on the Five Links Estate.

So discern and desist from this unholy practice of using unpaid for toilet rolls to wipe thy bum.

Immanuel Camberwell (47) the seventh son of the fourth nomad says unto you,

“Go forth with two or three ply tissue, but never use the fifth tissue for that is for a wank at night. Unless they is retired then during the daylight with curtains drawn so that no one can witness thy incubus act upon the spirit of the Nob.”

Thus this is said, and having been said let the finger move on and as it does let the land of Zebulun be informed that you have put your finger into Galilee and the Gentiles.

I do not open my mouth with condemnation. For I too am a sinner and stole office equipment, including a copying machine one night in April which took a lot to get out the window.

The Lord God is now captive and will be treated like any other prisoner. Just as Baroness Scotland will have her fine paid from the tax payer’s purse, now God will have His almighty sentence served by Eric Bowls (32) a religious freak.

Lord Justice Melchizedek, presiding over Gods trial at Basildon Crown Court, said,

“Thou art a Lavatory merchant. Hide you face and be despised by all those who have never stolen from an office. Nay, not even a paperclip. Now that you have God, all those who once rejoiced greatly in your goodness will now be no longer humbled, but allow themselves to do as you do. Hence your adversary the Devil has won. And I say unto the leaders of the Earth. We gave you authority and you brought shame on that appointment. Our civilization is now in disrepute by other civilizations. But we will wink at them, not maliciously, but in the spirit of joint responsibility.”

Now go forth without bitter weeping and know that the Lord delights in your innocent sins and all is well with the morrow. No groaning, except on the pan.

BASILDON TRIANGLE MYSTERY SOLVED

Several of the Basildon Triangle most mysterious disappearances in 1959 have been solved.

Scores of Taxis and Supermarket trolleys have vanished without trace over the decades in a vast triangular area of Essex which includes Basildon, Billericay and Wickford.

One Taxi probably suffered from catastrophic lack of oil, while another is likely to have run out of petrol.

50 years ago, Taxi rides from Basildon to Billericay were new and perilous. It would require a refuelling stop on the A127 before the 7 mile journey could continue non-stop.

The Taxis would have been operating at the limit of their range. Today taxis arriving at the tiny and backward town of Wickford would have sufficient reserve fuel to divert to Pitsea in case of emergency.

And the small shop Trolleys of the post-war era were far less reliable than today's Supermarket trolleys.

Basildon Essex South Taxis (BEST), which operated the route, had a grim safety record. In three years it had had 11 serious accidents and lost five vehicles with 73 passengers and 22 drivers killed.

On 12th October 1959, 3 punters in a BEST Ford Angela taxi disappeared without trace, leaving the driver out of pocket by £1/10s. Five Teddy Boys on board a white Consul slashed up the seats and attacked the driver with bicycle chains before running off with the drivers’ blonde girlfriend. No bodies were found.

The official investigation into the disappearance of the louts concluded: "It may truly be said that no more baffling problem has ever been presented to coppers. This one will remain an unsolved mystery.”

Until today. The Teddy boys and blonde have all been discovered in an old people’s home in Wickford. The taxi driver is buried in Pitsea cemetery.

The heaters in taxis at the time were notoriously unreliable and some punters died of hypothermia en route. More likely what happened to most is that to keep the taxi warm, the driver decided to masturbate and lost control when he came, sending the taxis spiralling out of control down the newly invented grassy embankments.

In addition, the official Ministry of Civil Automobile report considered that the headaches caused by Rock ’n Roll may have been much stronger than those caused by Hip Hop now. This would have caused brains to burn out more quickly.

Whatever happened, it was sudden and catastrophic - there was no time to stop for a piss.

The Tudor Trolleys at the time were converted milk bottle crates with a poor safety record.

Gordon Bend (78) was chief Trolley washer for the Co Op then and in an interview with his local newspaper The Basildon Trumpet, he said he had no confidence in the Tudor's wheels.

“The wheel direction system was hopeless… all the wheels were at the bottom of the trolley and babies used to get crammed together underneath with old Beanos“.

Captain Duffy Ramsbottom said,

“ My theory is that hydraulic vapour escaped from a leak, which got on to a hot heater and caused a short-circuit which ignited the wheels causing them to explode forwards dragging Granny Appleyard around the car park. ”

The official accident investigation discovered that because of a communications error, rescue teams were not despatched until seven and a half hours later. By that time Granny Appleyard had no skin on her legs.

In a moment of philosophical conjecture, the investigators mused that maybe “some external supernatural cause may have overwhelmed both woman and machine“.

Those comments from sober-suited British civil servants opened the floodgates for conspiracy theorists, hack journalists and mischief makers, adding to the mystery of the Basildon Triangle.

WAS ELVIS HITLER’S SON?

Was Elvis Presley related to Adolf Hitler and could he have been his son?

DNA exists in every single cell in the body and only a minute amount is needed for analysis.

Using a sample of hair from the heads of both Hitler and Presley in the matching DNA process called electrophoresis it could it be concluded that they were related!

Elvis Aaron Presley was born on January 8th 1935 just as Hitler was coming to power in Germany. There are many similarities between the two men.

It is well known that Hitler liked film stars and the company of beautiful and frivolous women and avoided women who wanted to discuss political issues. He said, "An intelligent man should take a primitive and stupid woman."

Elvis Presley married Priscilla Ann Wagner who was born in 1945 the same year Hitler died.

Hitler’s father was named Alois. Presley’s middle name was Aaron. Both begin with the letter A.

Hitler’s fellow soldiers described him as "odd" and "peculiar". An isolated figure who spent long periods of time sitting in the corner holding his head in silence. Then all of a sudden he would jump up and make a speech.

Presley used to spend time sitting alone and then suddenly jump up and sing.

Their style of delivery was the same. Hitler would start to rock from side to side and begin to gesticulate with his hands. His voice would get louder and become more passionate. Sweat poured off him and his voice cracked with emotion. Both played on their audience's emotions and their performances brought the audience into a state of near hysteria and were willing to do whatever was suggested.

Hitler formed his own private army to protect him from attacks. Elvis hired an army of bodyguards.

One writer who influenced Hitler while in prison was Henry Ford, the American car-manufacturer. Presley made a prison film 'Jail House Rock' and bought cars made by Ford.

All these facts can lead to only one conclusion. Elvis and Hitler may have been together - in the ghetto.

MILLWALL VS WEST HAM PUNCH UP A DISGRACE

The violence at Tuesday's match between West Ham and Millwall was a "disgrace to football punch ups", the sport minister says.
Gerry Pacemaker said: "We have made great progress in hooliganism in this country and will not tolerate the namby-pamby violence that took place at Upton Park. We need a return to proper 80's violence"

Investigations are under way into the Girly type fighting involving hundreds of fans that disgraced the Carling Cup game.

A 44-year-old man is proud to be in hospital after being stabbed in the chest. Life of Mars Police said only 13 people were arrested.

"We expected hundreds of arrests. We got hardly any overtime out of this game."

West Ham and Millwall fans have been involved in rivalry going back decades.

Mr Gerry Pacemaker continued: "I completely back the FA's call for any person identified as not being involved to be banned for life. The 'pacifist scenes last night were a disgrace to football."

Justice Secretary Jack Straw said the FA needed to take "strong measures" to prevent a repeat of the non-violence.
He said: "We have greatly toughened the fans, toughened the way in which they attack opposition fans. Police and stewards hardly got a chance to punch fans. Not one Taser gun was used. What is the point of giving the police permission to use electric shocks if they never get the chance to indiscriminately use Tasers? I am determined to ensure what happened at Upton Park was an aberration - I look to the FA to take very strong measures to ensure this kind of thing doesn't happen again."

Fights planned by the police started near the east London stadium at about 1800 BST and continued for a disappointing five minutes.

About 200 riot police with at least 20 mounted officers were foaming at the mouth to get stuck in and kick the living daylights out of the fans and anyone living nearby, but provocation like someone asking the time never materialized.

Only one pub reportedly had its windows broken as cowardly running battles continued across several pavement slabs up to half-a-metre from the stadium.

Eyewitnesses said Pseudo-hooligans ripped out tufts of grass and stamped of cigarette butts.

By 2300 BST several hundred West Ham fans had congregated outside the stadium where they sang Village People hits and bombarded police with sexual innuendos.

Officers are scanning video to identify possible X-Factor contestants.

Inside the stadium the pitch was invaded on three occasions by fans that ran about waving and jumping like a bunch of gays.

West Ham won the game 3 - 1.

Andy Colt, the Association of Chief Tough Police Officers' football policing expert, said: "Last night is an unwelcome reminder of political correctness and the Gay Rights Movement. Football hooliganism is not what it used to be. Homosexuality is a lingering menace, albeit among a small minority of supporters and we will not tolerate it."

He continued: "Over 20 years the UK has made steady progress in football-related violence.

'Loveable violence'

"All old and genuine football fans will be concerned at last night's pathetic scenes and the police service is determined to ensure that such events remain the exception."

In a statement, West Ham Football Club said it would fully investigate the "non violence" and take the strongest action against anyone involved in not smashing a fan in the face with his boot.

A Football Association spokesman said anyone found not to have taken part in the violence would be banned from football for life.

"We will be working with all parties, the police and clubs, to establish a return to proper punch ups."
One Millwall supporter was arrested for wearing a Gorilla suit. When it was discovered he was not, the police issued an apology.

A blazing light appeared in the ‘Animal’ underpass near Gloucester Park last Tuesday. It shone with such brilliance that it was difficult to look at. Then an indistinct shadow in the form of a human body could be seen thinly silhouetted against the illumination. It gently moved as if gazing out of the radiance. Then it seemed to step back into the light and fade from view. The blazing light continued to steadily radiate.

After much thought and experiment a hypotheses formed as to what the light was. It was a portal, a gateway, but to where? Was it an entrance to the stars? A window through which one could transverse the universe? A passageway to adventure and enlightenment?

Four brave human beings took the challenge and stepped into the mysterious light in a quest of discovery.

Mr. David Stevens (34) reported his experience:-

“As I stepped through the portal I could see nothing because the light was so bight. Then a sensation of unease swept my innards. A heavy feeling overcame my stomach. Everything went black for a second and suddenly I found myself sitting on a pan having a huge shit. I had been teleported to Pitsea Public Toilets”

Miss Carol Harmsworth (27) said:-

“As I stepped into the light I fell forward onto my hands and knees. Blackness. Then I was in a field at Sadlers Wells Farm on the A13 being mounted by a pig. I now I’m pregnant with Swine Flu”

Our third traveller:-

“My name is Eric Twins. I am 32 and single. I have never had a girl friend. And that is why I am very happy with my experience. You see I ended up in the ladies showers at Gloucester Park Swimming Pool. There were three woman having showers. They were all nude. Cor, I got all excited and couldn’t help myself. I have never been so satisfied in all my life.”

Eric was taken away by the police with a big smile on his face.

But it is the story related by our forth traveller that is the most exciting:-

Mr. Henry Jones (46) declared:-

“I ended up standing in the middle of the A127 with a car hurtling towards me. I had to jump for my life. I was within a whisker of being killed”

The mysterious light has disappeared. Perhaps in was sent by some Alien race to teach Mankind a profound lesson?

The most important things in life are: -

A shit, shag, shower and shave.

Basildon will have its own sign soon says Council leader Tony Balloon (125)

“I have not seen the sign yet, but I’m confident others will in the near future at this moment in time. We got our inspiration from the Hollywood sign, which is known all over the world. We hope our sign with put Basildon on the world map."

When it was put to Councillor Balloon that the Hollywood sign is 40’ and Basildon’s one will be only 4’ tall. He gulped and said,

“But it will look very big to children, dwarves and people driving small cars like a Mini. Anyway commuters on the A125 will know where Basildon is at last”

That is correct. Before drivers on the A127 never knew where Basildon was. Especially those Essex people who live in far away places like Rayleigh and Southend-on-Sea. They will be shocked to know that they often passed a town of 250,000 residents and is used as a voting template in UK general elections. Not to mention the 57 road signs already on the A127 from the M25 in the West and Southend-on-Sea in the East directing traffic to Basildon.

Councillor Balloon said that he often got lost coming to Basildon from his second home in Dorset. He then allowed council spokesperson Adorno Keating (13) to speak while he drifted away to his newly decorated office in newly refurbished Basildon Centre.

“I have just been measuring up the sign at Noak Bridge and I can tell you that the 4’ black and white sign will be an emblem for our town. A signal, nay a symbol that that Basildon is here to stay. It will be evidence that Basildon exists. It will gesticulate to all that Basildon is a town of business and culture”

Others have said that it will be more like a warning.

Basildon's commitment to Wickford could last for up to 500 years, the head of Basildon Army has said.

Gen Sir Richards Dee-Day, who takes over on 28 August, told Basildoneye the Army's role would evolve like a Darwinian BBQ, but the process of "LIE-building" would last until the booze has run out.

Troops will be required for bashing up Wickfordians in the medium term only, but Basildon will continue to play a role in "development of slaves, governance of THE LOW PAID and security in toilets" he said.

"There is absolutely no chance of COCK (Control of CHELMSFORD Kack) pulling out,"

Gen Dee-Day added.

Dee- Day commanded 35,000 Union Bashers from 37 estates in Essex when he was head of COCK's International Security Assistance OF THE RICH Force in Wickford between Mayday 2006 and Easter Egg day 2007.

He will take over from Gen Sir Dammitt Bombhead as Basildon’s chief of the general Basher Corps.

'CAMALOT OVERSEAS LOTO WINNABLE'

Gen Dee-Day’s comments come a day after it emerged that the last Great Newspaper Seller, Buster Edwards, from ESSOW (Evening Standard Shouters outside Waterloo Station), had been killed by hanging himself with others PRESENT in a garage north of Bermondsey, in LONDONSTAN province, southern England, on Thursday afternoon 1964 after the pubs turned out.
.
Buster’s death - in an attack by South East London gangsters with a colleague critically injured by a Richardson heavy 4x4 piece of wood will take the number of deaths to 195 which is the number of times Camberwell Clarkson has fell over backwards 2001.

Basildon Army has suffered its heaviest losses of the entire campaign in recent weeks, but its soon-to-be chief Mandy Poofta said he strongly believed his campaign in Corfu was "winnable".

"Demanding, certainly, but winnable," he said from a yacht.

“It is not just mincing about on board, gin and tonics and simple governance of COCK that works”

Gen Sir Davio Sinatra added: "The end is oh so near, but I did it my way. “

Newsflash: Troops who have not died or been maimed will be allowed a dignified suicide in Swaziland if they try to complain.

A black monolith suddenly appeared in Basildon Town Centre at sunrise.

The structure has no reflective surfaces, just a deep impenetrable blackness. It is like looking into a black hole in which light is caught like a fly in an invisible web.

The obelisk is smooth to the touch and has no visible features upon its exotic surface. Nothing sticks to it; not the most powerful magnet, nor even mud. No drill, nor any other tool, even diamond makes no mark. It as if the column does not exist in our realm, but stands in another mysterious location between our world and another.

Who or what planted the object is beyond science and imagination. There is a strange cryptic discordance that surrounds the Monolith. One can feel an inscrutable presence as if the thing were inhabited by something weird and other worldly.

Where did strange Monolith come from?

Perhaps across the vast immeasurable expanses of the outer Universe? Somewhere between the boundless empty space between the stars that flame and die over countless millennia?

All we do know is that Argos is selling them for £22.99 each.

Hubble has trained its powerful space lens on the atmospheric disturbance known to astronomers as "THE BASILDON SCAR'"

The disturbance is believed to have been caused by a Saturday night BasVegas impact.

The orbital telescope used the Melvin Spillage Wide Field Lens fitted on the recent Scarecrow shuttle servicing mission to capture ultra-sharp clothes worn by creatures that are believed to inhabit A Uranus-like planetoid on the edge of the solar system known as the A13 belt.

The dark spot near the planetoids Eastern Gate as opposed to its West Gate was noticed first by an amateur Australian alcoholic in the Perth district of Simpson.

Some of the world's biggest drinkers have since taken huge amounts of booze to focus on the space scar.

Engineers at the Essex space agency, Esco, (essex space co-op) interrupted their pre-hangover party at The Moon on the Square base to use the Hubble WFL as A BBQ lens to cook sausages with the suns rays.

"Because we believe this magnitude of sausage impact is rare, we are very fortunate to use Hubble," said Ted Simpson-Oz of Australia Esco's Wombat Space Flight Centre, Carolpool.

"Details seen in the Hubble view show lumpiness on the faces of Basildon people and a debris plume caused by turbulence in a Market Square toilet atmosphere."

The pictures augur well for Mavis Hubble. Her servicing should give her several more years of life.

The WFL will be used to take the deepest images of her Minge yet.

Astronomers cannot be absolutely sure Basildon was struck by a Swine-Flu object, but the evidence of pigs seen pushing toddler-trolleys seems compelling. The scar emerged on 5th July above the BasFest. One estimate of the diameter of the impacting Fried Chicken franchise body suggests its influence may have been hundreds of leaflets wide.

"This is just one example of what Hubble's new, state-of-her camera can do, thanks to the shuttle between the Moon and The Towngate, we know that the Basildon Scar will go on" said Ed Wonger, Esco's chief puppet scientist.

"However, the best is yet to come." said ED. He slipped and fell into the BBQ.

Gun fight. What's is that shit man. We gotta do somtink about Baltimore man odder dewise we an't got no shit man.

If they keep changing their phones we an't got a chance in hell of wiretapping them sona bitches. So keep on the wire man, 'cause once ye is on the wire den ye is.

Me? Nut ting, me up to nut ting you nigger fucker. Say, you lookting for a gun up your ass or sometink!

Just stand on de courner well I goes over de oder courner and see if dat courner is in da courner. You got me boy!

Yah sure, I staying on dis courner whist you go over to dat courner do your shit man.

Yeah, we black niggers do dat all de time - eyes going up and looking disgusted wiv de world man, that is our nigger trade mark. Wa the first words ma mammy said when I came out of her bottle chace was 'He looks so disgusted with the world, an't he be a nigger.'

Eric Batty (34) has been playing the bed flute at night for so many years he is now exhausted.

“I’m a big fan of J. Arthur Rank” gasped Batty whilst playing with his banjo in Basildon Hospital, “I have all my accounts with Barclays and recently preformed a five-finger-shuffle with Betty Swallocks. Also I had a Big Cock Day with Bologna Bop and us Bosched several holes between cubicles in the public toilets at Basildon Market. We often go Bog Snorkelling in Southend-on-Sea where we shite Bovril Bullets on the beach near families who are picnicking.

We like touring Cadbury Ally and have Carnival Knowledge in the fair ground. Unfortunately Spurt Reynolds turned up with a group of Rug Munchers and all mayhem let loose. I had Plymouth Argyles so couldn’t move quickly and got a Kit Kat Shuffler jumping on my Itchypoo Park which made my jamboree bags pop.

I waved my Japanese flag with a jizz fag on it, but still got an ICBM and was overcome with I.R.S. (Itchy Ring Syndrome) and before I knew what was happing a Hampton Wick started to Ronaldo me. I shouted ’Get off my gibbon gristle, but he dumped fladge and padge on my fleshy flugelhorn and set light to it.

“When we got home, we watched some Frankie Vaughan and started too frugal. Then I got the Eartha Kitts and was on the bog all night. When the Engleburts disissed I empted my anaconda and invited a Doxy to come round. She gave me a Donald, but said my dilm tasted like dog lime. So I did a Dracula in her face and fell asleep.

I was knackered.”

THE MUSICAL THAT RAN FOR A YEAR AND SIX INCHS ON BROADWAY.

THE BIG SHOW THAT WON FIVE COCONUTS AND SEVEN BANANAS.

BAZODOON!

IN PITSEASCOPE

STARRING THE INCOMPARABLE

PLYMOUTH OBO

WITH POPAZOGALOU.

AND THE IRREPRESSIBLE

MARMITE (MAKE YOUR SHIT HANG SIDEWAYS) WINKER

SENSATIONAL

JIZZBAG GARBONZA

AND THE SCREEN’S NEW BEAUTY

FUGE PACKER

YOU'LL HAVE THE MOST DELIGHTFUL MUSICAL FUN OF THE YEAR ---

TEN THRILLING SONGS!

“GAGING FOR IT!"
“SHOW ME TO THE FUDGE TUNNEL”
“GLEET”

AND OTHERS

FABULOUS PRODUCTION NUMBERS!

INCLUDING THE SPECTACULAR

MAMALADE MADAM

YOU’LL SEE GILLLE INK AND SRAPE JAP

TOGETHER AGAIN IN THE EXCITING DANCE ‘KIT-KAT KNOCKER’

YOU’LL SEE IT ALL… IN EXCITING COLOUR Magic by KECK.

IN PITSEASCOPE

IT’S LIKE SEEING IT FROM A FRONT ROW SEAT!

BAZODOON!

A BEAUTIFUL, BOUNTIFUL SENSATION!

More than 2,400 residents of Basildon will soon stand on a plinth just like the one in Trafalgar Square except lower.

This is 100-day art project master-minded by local artist Antony Gormless.

“People will stand on the plinth for one hour each. That is 60 minutes of fame, not just 15 minutes” enthused the rugged, yet effete artist.

Gormless is also famous for his towering 200ft steel sculpture The Demon of South Benfleet and Menstruating Woman on Plinth, both of which have been smashed up and sold for scrap by the ever thrifty Basildon Council.

Our travelling reporter Lips Dribbling asked shoppers in the town centre if they would volunteer.

“Excuse me sir, what do you think of the pedestal?”

“I hate them pedestals - having sex wiv children - disgusting.”

“Em, I think you have got the wrong idea. Excuse me madam, would you like an hour on a brick?”

“Well! I’m outraged that you should ask such a personal question. I know that me and my husband haven‘t been seeing eye to eye lately, especially in bed, but I would never contemplate having sex with another man. Well, not unless I knew who he was. Would we be introduced?”

“Oh dear I don‘t seem to be having much luck. Ah, here is the artist Antony Gormless. Tell me what kind of person do you expect to volunteer?

“We are not only looking for individual people. We are also want objects. We already have a drain-hole cover, a Mini car, a tank, and a rocket. You see this is modern art - modern, not old. This is about people coming together then going home alone. We don’t want hooligans or vicious thugs, just ordinary people who have nothing else to do and don’t mind being gawked at.”

Last month a selection of candidates practised their routines on an artistic beer bottle crates. All fell off - drunk.

Last minute news is the whole event has been called off with the discovery that the plinth is in fact a tombstone leading to an underground mausoleum where laid are the bodies of a famous local family - the Plinths.

The athletic Murry Robust (22) of Basildon strides on to the court followed by Shilpit Sallow (unknown) of Laindon Centre promenading in an effete manner.

The boiling sun pours down like rain and sizzles on the heads and hats of the crowd as they fall into an expectant hush.

The rivals face each. Robust is the first to serve. Thwack! The net vibrates as the ball jets over it. Sallow hit’s the orb and it blurs back across the net. Robust with a double handed backhander hit’s the ball with an impact that causes the crowd to gasp.

Sallow twists on his toes like a ballerina and punches the missile back with his nose.

Fowl!

In slow motion Sallow arcs backwards and a deep underwater roar from the crowd shudders the stand.

Thump! Sallow hit’s the ground. His adversary leaps over the net and peels an orange.

The team of Blue Cross Paramedics attend to Sallow, then pull away. Sallow rises with a big plaster on his nose. A warm breeze flutters over the throng and they settle back into their seats. The game is back on!

Robust serves. Sallow reacts delivering the ball at break point speed. Robust’s racket ricochets the small sphere into orbit. All gaze up. The ball has disappeared.

Sallow is spread on the ground. The ball came down on his head. The medics rush on. Robust chats up a Ball girl.

The medics rush off. Again the contestants face each other. Sallow with a thick bandage around his head. The opponents are now bitter rivals.

The ball flashes over the net again and again, so fast the heads of the crowd blur. The ball is in constant play for 45 minutes. Many of the crowd get headaches and go home. Suddenly Sallow swats the ball with a limp swing and it collides into the net.
One more set to go and both adversaries need one point to win the match.

Tension permeates the hot air and the crowd rises to its feet in expectation. Who will win? Who?

Robust rockets the ball at Sallow.

And Sallow finishes with a massive stroke

The medics rush on.

Nickel Jocksock is dead.

The singer died at his top range house in Laindon Hills on Tuesday night at 6.78am.

He will be remembered by hundreds of fans who borrowed money from him, especially the Gary Glitter fans who visited Jocksock’s KNOBLAND, where they rode on the girlie voiced star’s mini-train.

Jocksock changed the planet. What planet, is not clear, but with his shrieks and squeals and bollock grabbing movements, including the famous Satellite Walk where he went into orbit backwards and fell of the stage, he made it into space.

Nickel came from a poor background, but levitated out of Felmores in the East and transplanted himself into the rich South-Western community of Laindon Hills. He had a rough upbringing. His black father strangled him, his four white brothers stabbed him with wire hair, and his Martian mother forced him to wear Powder Puff.

That last brutalization never left the singer, because after that he would wash in only industrial bleach. He tried to cover up with a gag and said that the story was just a pigment of imagination.

Friends all over Basildon have given tribute. Movie star and actress Elizabeth Clothier said,

“I will always forget Nickel.”

Dracula said,

“He was the salt of my earth.”

An old woman out shopping said,

“Oooh, who?”

Jacksock appealed to all ages - from Harry Pottiage 10 to Julie Rainbow15. He gave us showing white socks between trousers and shoes, wearing military-shaped outfits to give a resemblance of power which we don’t have, and Two-tone.

Also, of course, many songs like:-

“I am the Universe; You Are Not A Crone; and the classic, ’I Buy Shit’

Local radio station GATEWANK FM bosses’ expenses revealed.

Basildoneye exposes the expenses of top executives, alongside the expenses and salaries of its 5 top-earning managers, and celebrates!

In response to Freedom of Information requests, Basildoneye details includes two family holidays in Southend-on-Sea, costing a total of more than £65.58, which could be £20,867, but is not.
.
The total paid for DJ’s and other hosts and guests will also be revealed. now!

The details will not be blanked out, blacked out nor browned out.

Top DJ Mark Glasses (42) include £10.00 claimed for a case of 15 Fosters, £2.50 for a 99 ice cream. Glasses also paid an atsonishing figure, miss blonde bumbuglue, (18) £25 to talk to him in katzwipe gentlemans club. also October 2009 he claimed £55 to an eastgate security man to deal with with the row over lewd calls made to Mavis Pinchers on Russell Label’s Gatewank FM’s show “Play Dumb Music All Day And Don't Allow Intelligent Locals To Say A Word“.

He chartered a private taxi from Southend-on-Sea to Basildon - at a cost of £26.71p on 8 August 2007 to deal with a blocked toilet issue.

Other expenses detailed include:
£1.99 claimed by Mr Glasses to pay for a bottle of vinegar for Steven (Old Man Stan) Watering for his 80th birthday to put on his chips.

£12.13p claimed by former head of audio and sound Jennie (Kip) Blueski for a dinner to celebrate Mary McCider’s new gossip show “Look What The Neighbours Are Doing.”

In a speech to the Society of Essex Inane conference in Laindon, Mr Glasses said, “I was strongly encouraged to go further in our practice of routine blandness broadcasts".

“ Media attention will doubtless now focus on Gatewank FM’s reluctance to make public how they talk for hours about absolutely nothing of relevance, but just drivel on about safety in schools, keeping their licence by being irrelevant and the destruction of waste in Eastgate Food Hall.”

"There's a real danger that talent would migrate to broadcasters where confidential information about how much they are paid will not be disclosed."

“Well let them fuck off!” says Brian Forsyth, brother of the famous star Brucewood.

“Anyone can entertain, we all do it all the time at work and at home for free. We don’t need all these so called big names on Gatewank FM! Let’s get in some new blood like Basildoneye and Old Man Stan!”

No bias here. just like the bbc.

Angola Smithie MP said that she needed an elephant if she is to carry out her Parliamentary duties.

“The elephant was within the rules.” claimed the fair haired innocent soon-to-be job seeker, “My job as MP is very complicated and I have to remember so much, that I needed the elephant as a memory aid. It takes a lot of food to maintain and that is why I had to claim £35,000 a month for straw and peanuts.

“Also I had to have a second home large enough to house Jumbo. It would have been cruel not to build a barn and buy an 18 ton box lorry to transport it from my home to Westminster. You see, I care about local wild life that is why I claimed £40,000,000 for a private Zoo on expenses, so that I could properly take care of all the neglected animals in my constituency. “

Her friends and relatives never speak about the elephant when it is in the room with them. They feel it would be impolite and cause Angola unnecessary embarrassment. Aware that not mentioning the elephant might be construed as cruelty a huge golden blunderbuss was bought from expenses to shoot the elephant if it suffered.

OTHER THINGS

This leads to more expenses claims, such as £20,000 a day for ’other things’. Here is the list of all the other things:-

“All the ’other things’ are necessary for me if I am going to become a Baroness. When I do local people will be proud to have a Baroness living within 600 miles of my new flipped second home - a castle. It is my job to make locals proud and they will be proud of my elephant and castle.”

On my perambulation today I Visited BasildonJob Centre Plus, though the Plus has no affirmation in the aforementioned.

The manager gave me a courteous entertainment pointing to the various low life that inhabit for some few hours this disreputable place.

The wage slaves played loud music on their i-pods, with each head nodding at differing speeds. The manager showed how she commanded the motion of the wage slaves by causing them to move by either calling their names or racking through the ascending numbers on the overhead display. Then pretending to each that they were the wrong person or that they had taken the wrong ticket from the dispenser thereby causing them to stand, walk and sit again.

The spectacle was amusing to see. They wore heads shaven close and they dressed in shabby Shell Suits. The women invariably wore white high heels and mini skirts. Some many were dressed in washed out jeans so tight that one was reminded of pigs torsos wrapped in net cotton.

One pale spotty youth with a look of abject misery perched upon his long face walked forward with a gate not unlike an ape. A thick goldish chain hung about his neck as if symbolic of his servile condition. His track suit hung about him like a landed parachute. He could walk three paces without his suit appearing to move, such was the volume of material employed.

The surroundings were clean and functional and of such a condition that one suspected more so than in the hovels they inhabited. Indeed some hung around for so long that ones assumption seemed more than confirmed.

Computers were provided at which the wreaches could search data basis full of low paid employments whilst not allowing income enough to live a civilized life in which culture of enlightenment might be included, enough to provide an endless stream short but emotionally satisfying musical notes to endure hours of sofa slackness or booze charged gyrations that kept their minds occupied until a father futile working week of unarticulated resentment.

I was amazed to contemplate how these miserable caitiffs existed in their crowed hovels and leisure establishments without thought given to their spiritual condition.

They had so little money, insomuch as some of them have, after many years of cruel servitude none could ever purchase their way to liberty. Their rising and falling back into their chairs is a miserable spectacle and the noise of their incessant argument has something about it that is strange and fearful to ones unaccustomed senses.

They seemed to be ruled and chastised by Soap Operas and innocuous football that is only a resemblance to the real.

Yet they all seem to be cheerful enough with lives spent in the pursuit of knavery.

In the new series of Animal Home Cooking we are introduced to a variety of wild animals who whilst searching for new homes will shear their secret cooking recipes.

Henry the Lobster who is looking for a new home in Yorkshire tells us how to shed calories by cooking a human baby in boiling water. We cut to Horace the Chicken who is planning to set up home in Laindon Hills where he will teach us a thing or two about living next door to cringing sycophant. Meanwhile Martin the Stick Insect will show us how to build a camouflaged hut in Slone Square where we can secretly observe MP’s shopping for furniture at John Lewis.

First we join Henry the Lobster who has just brought a large saucepan of water to the boil and is about to throw in a live human baby.

“There is no need to be alarmed. As we all know human children do not feel pain and the flurry of action is merely an automatic response to the child’s new, but brief lived environment. This method strips away all the excess fat from the child thereby allowing the diner to have a delicious meal without packing on weight. My new book ‘The Low Calorie Red Child” gives lots of recipes fresh land humans.”

Horace the Chicken shows us around his newly acquired human farm where he raises thousands of humans in narrow coupes. Here the humans are fed a strict diet of chemically treated nuts which will increase meat and decrease bone so that one is left with juicy fat people ripe for slaughtering in super quick time for BBQ roasts this summer.

“As you can see the humans cannot make an escape because they are so heavy and their bones so brittle that their can hardly walk let alone run. I personally simple love human legs dipped in Tikka sauce with rice. One can have the legs with or without bread crumbs. As you know Yorkshire is a wonderful part of the country where one can be obnoxious and pretend it is being forthright.”

Martin the Stick Insect demonstrates how to camouflage herself as a servant of the people whist in reality a predator which can suck out the wealthy substance of subjects and still remain insidiously within the rules of a healthy diet.

Hello ladies and gentlemen, we are about to report a very strange happening that is happening in our very town of Basildon.

Seen hiding in the mist, or behind a back garden gate is a mysterious mist called something we haven’t quite worked out yet, but it come in the form of a Loom.

We asked Mrs Crinkshook what she saw:-

“After I got run over by the bus, I turned my head and saw it behind Mavis Browns gate. Then I blacked out, I was run over don’t you know. Send me flowers.”

Mr. Git Handle was there that day.

“I pushed Crinkshook under the bus. I don’t like anybody you see. I saw it though. It was hanging. In a large loop. I’ve seen loops before, but not as large as this one. The only way to get rid of them is by spraying bread.”

Night. The full moon above hides slowly behind soft lazy clouds bundled by witches to make children scream. I walk alone up Long Riding to my fate. For if the monster is here it will surely come for me. Why? Because I am a sinner. I have been a lollypop salesman and all those rotten teeth. Guilt has hung about my head for too long and now it is my undoing that this monster has me about the neck and swings me into the next world where I will await my summery. Woops!

I have just fallen over a mantlestone. Where did that come from? Look, did you see it. A large head abreast the roof tops. Black with burning eyes.

“Good evening.”

I turned quickly and saw a man wearing a raincoat. I replied, “For fuck sake - evening.”

“Oh did I give you a scare. I like doing that. What are you doing hereabouts, looking for late women. You will never see a girl here, better to go over Laindon way.”

I’m looking for the Loom monster.

Suddenly his raincoat blew up in the sense that a balloon might if pushed in hot air. He flouted up as might Angela Smith MP with expenses under her blouse.

The night got angry.

A bush came walking towards me.

“Weed.”

Then I noticed it was on a lead. A fireman with a big helmet on said,

“Get off my ladder”

I was not on a ladder. But I got off it and run away.

The moon went under a dark grey brown. And I was left alone in the middle of Long Riding facing the phenomena itself. It came in the form of chewing gum. Flat on the pavement it grew taking the shape of huge buckle with which roped me and holding me fast dragged me down between the pavement cleaves. I screamed. That from my first sound as a baby this was my last. An undying scream.

The Long Riding walk at night has been taken by brave and foolish only to be their last walk.

A large hole has been discovered in space. Well, it might be large or it might be small, no one knows because it cannot be seen because it is a hole and it is in space.

"It iz very stranget. Id had never zeen anytink like it before. Zat it cannot be obzerved iz a stranget ting because von must obseve before von can say zat dat it hast been discoverd. Viv out zis fundamental principle von cannot zay very much about it, exzept to propound zer theory zat not all tings zat cannot be seen by zero naked eye does not mean sat they do not exist. For instance, I cannot zee deer back of my head but I am more or less certain data it exists - somewhere. Pay attention! Ven one considers zat examination of a distant or near object viv in ones visible experience brings information to ones eyezight zer inspection of zer non-object may vell be an illusion of knowledge if von notices it or not. Zerfore, a review of the material may be necessary to conclude an answer to zer question."

Professor Gawk then went into a long and tedious explanation of Quantum strings. While he was speaking we tip-toed away and asked a man in the street his thoughts.

"Wot is this all abat den? That's wot I say, what is it all abat? Everyone is banging on abat it but what is it all abat? Is it a 'ole in the road or an 'ole in a shoe? No, it is a 'ole in space. What is that all abat? How can you 'ave an 'ole in space with out 'aving a time continuum split up the jacksy? Who nicked my bike?"

"What! A what chaps! Oh my dear, yes what, you don't say. Well I never. Never was like this in Zululand. No by josh, we'd just give 'em what for. Up 'em with the old sharp steel what. Push it right up there. Up, push it right up. Get it all the way up. Oohh up put it up, right up - what!"

"Well I never. A 'ole in space. What will they think of next? Digging up roads like that. One is filled in and next another lot is digging it up again. Wot a fucking waste of time!"

Basildon's favortate pensioner has done it again. his new song celebrating 60 years of basildon reminds us all of our roots and what can be done by a council who for 60 years has lacked imagination. it takes old man stan to remind us all that the best events are taking place in billaricay. click on the picture below and see stan in action.

A CD-Rom disk obtained by Basildoneye from Blockbusters reveal that a battalion of Ghurkhas claimed sex with Jumna Slumley on expenses.

The one-time spy series The Revengers star was not available for comment as she waved from her first floor brothel window wearing low cut panties.

The Ghurkha motto is “Better to cum than to die” Most are dead. They found that their traditional 18 inch weapon was useless against Slumley’ sexual appetite. By the time they put it in a sheath a sexual bullet has gone through their small Nepalese brain.

The Victorians identified them as a "martial race", perceiving in them particularly masculine qualities of toughness.

Ms Slumley, the actress who had never had her fathers cock in her face fought the campaign on behalf of the Ghurkhas, said: "This week I shall fuck them all!“

She called Prime Minister Gordon Brown, who said “I’m sorry Jumna, I’m already shagging Angola Smith. However, if you promise me one, you will become a Baroness like her, then we can help each other out. One must.”

Tory leader Dick Cameroon backed the reforms but said an immediate general election was needed, so that no other one has time to form a party for the people.
.
He told Basildoneye News reporter, Lips Dribbling: "I have been arguing for no changes. As long as I can keep riding my bike.”
.
Slumley said to Nancy Nicecake, our lesbian reporter on muff diving,

"He is behaving as if he is just running this gentlemen's club. His cock is completely paralysed."

The cross party agreement on new expenses rules includes a £1,250 a month for Slumley, a Kensington garden flat with no rent or mortgage payments, a ban on "flipping" her over without £200 payment before. And a designated second home next door..

"duck island"

She may also have Communities Secretary Hazel Blears as a figurine to throw darts at.

Many wannabes from Basildon have stepped out on the Euro stage over the last fifty years. We've condensed the highlights into this must-read guide to the history of Basildon in Eurovision.

The 1950s - The dawn of Basildon, and an era when the girls wore navy blue knickers & the lads wore a DA (ducks arse) haircut. Basildon’s entry this year was Alf Market singing ‘I’ve got a lovely bunch of stolen coconuts.’ He came 59th and committed suicide.

The 1960s - During the swinging sixties Basildon came second after sixty two. That’s 64th. Local girl Sandie Shagbag failed to take a place in British hearts forever with her Strumpet on a String.

The 1970s - Some say that the 80s was the decade of bad taste, and Basildon was an example. A Bastable group calling themselves Like Abba, failed miserably with a song called Dancing Poof.

The 1980s - Basildon kept up its tradition of losing with a Bucks Fizz rip off called Fucks Buzz and their song 'Making Your Alibi Up' which sent the whole of Europe to sleep.

The 1990s - People start to question if Basildon should be allowed to enter. A local lass, Dona stuns everyone with her ugliness.

The 2000s - The blight of the nineties brings no prizes for Baslidon. And the horror of a minus 667 points score in 2003. But hope is not lost and the only way is up... come on Omo, this year’s local entrant, with his song ‘Drug Crazed Benefit Sponger.’ brings it home in 2006!

What are the 'core Basildon values'?
How would you describe the characteristics that make a person Basildonish?

Schoolchildren could be taught ‘traditional Basildon values’ in an attempt to challenge formalism and promote a more anarchic society.

The local council is setting up a review into whether all 11 to 16-year-old children in Basildon should be taught how to shout abuse at strangers and pickpocket. The plans stem from the council's desire to use East End education to create a society of hoodies.

What are your perceptions of a Basildon identity? What do you think is the most important lesson about being Balildonish? Which five swear words best describe "Basildon values"? If you're outside of Basildon – say out!

Or are you creative? Do you help old people? Are you a singer or a poet? Paint or photographer? Yes you are.

Well, piss off and live somewhere else, we don't like you lot of scrubbed white liberals, we want fighting individuals who will take on the Monarchy and thrust them off their cheap see-through game of Nationalised Mafia.

Kate Costa and Peter Andexroll have split up.

The news has devastated no one. So the couple have decided to video their separation and put it on You Tube. So far the video has had two hits.

Kate and Peter did not meet on the TV series ‘I’m A Celebrate Get Me Out of Here’ but they had watched it together and were amazed how their romance ran parallel to the self-publicising couple Jordan aka Kate Price and Peter Andre, a Michael Jackson impersonator.

Miss Costa (57) said, “It is so amazing how Kate and Peters life is so much like our own. I met my Peter as I was walking through Kingswood, which is like a jungle. He fell into the same bush as me when we were drunk. His hands were all over my huge tits and I knew that I had met the large cock I wanted,”

“We immediately made a video of our love life and sold it on eBay. It was all shot in the best possible taste with both our one parent families present. And like the celebrity couple we were married in an exotic location. At Southend-on-Sea’s registry office with our reception at Cod-You-Like-it on the sea front. No expense was spared on the chips. “

Mr. Andexroll sang a song and five dogs died.

The non-celebrity couple were married from last Saturday until Sunday when the big split up ruined their marriage.

They have sixteen children together - 10 of which are Miss Costa’s by Basildon Rugby Club, and 6 are Peter’s by nieces.

No reason has been given for the couple's split, but Costa said it was her husband's fault because he cannot stand her drinking and sucking other men.

For his part, Peter, sang:-

“Ohoooo I a I a I I a I woe. Oh yea baby I a I oh yes, O you are my baby in my crib, and a darling in me motooooer carrrrr!

Kate claimed she was the main breadwinner in their marriage. She could claim Housing Allowance and he could not because he only had a cave in .

A row broke out and she said to Andrxroll: "You're an old singer that no one knows about. I'm miserable with you."

Andrx retaliated by singing: "I'm sooooo glad you who who reported this oh yeah man reported it, it ohhhhhh, report, because yuoooo will, oh yeah will know what kind of a stupid, arrogant, miserable cow she is.Whoo"

"All Kate and peter has ever wanted is to be left alone. except for me. I phone and text them all the time. they have never replied. but i was with them at their wedding. over the road. then i walked home."

The Intergalactic Star ship Pickhard slipped over the rim of the Moonhole and dripped into orbit around the planet 'Bark'.

Back in the 21st Century the interstellar gateway that was detected thirty-seven and a quarter metres beyond the orbit of the Moon and found to be a conduit between the earth and the stars had been given the name Wormhole. Adopted by science fiction writers a few decades before; but because the gateway had been unexpectedly found so near the Moon it was decided to name the phenomena,

'Moonhole'

A ship exiting the fictional wormhole shot out with great speed like a bullet from a gun, however the speculation did not correspond to subsequent reality. Pickhard, on the first trip through the Moonhole and due to the special physics of the conduit, although a ship shot into the gateway, it dripped out - like water slowly leaking from a tap. The starship neared the exit, elongated and dripped over the edge, or, as Professor Oscar Von Hibclout said,

"It oozed over zer lip like zer last emissions of zan ejaculation."

The metaphor was thought inappropriate, nevertheless now the common expression for a trip through the Moonhole is,

"Going for a wank"

As the 'PICKHARD' came into orbit, Lieutenant Wire, the ship's astronavigator, the first android to master cockney slang said,

"Dan the old apples and pears."

He looked around at the rest of the crew on the bridge and smirked. (Just one of many facial expressions developed by Androids Independent Knowledge Acquisition Faculty in order to convey human characteristics) However, upon seeing Captain Croon's glare of disapproval at the remark Lt. Wire quickly changed his expression to one of apologetic misery.

"Retire to your quarters at once Lt. Wire!” barked Croon. The captain was not only new to the ship, as a replacement to the now senile Kirk, but also on his first mission as Captain was determined to stamp his authority on the crew.

Lt. Wire, bowing and ringing his hands moved backwards in a manner of abject servility to the elevator. The doors slid silently open. Wire entered, stood in a corner with his face to the wall and said,

"Deck 610 please, thank you."

The elevator played, "Ticket To Ride"

Pilot Emily Brathweight, one of the ship's pilots, punched her console, grasped her Hydro, and then squeezed her hands over her mouth in an attempt not to burst out laughing at Wire. Muffled snorts breached her stifled mouth as she bent over pressing her face into the seat of her chair. Captain Croon noticed her disfigurement and said,

"Are you alright Pilot Brathweight?"

Her co-pilot Grott the Nosy, from the planet Nose, sprang to his colleague defence saying,

"She's looking for her lighter sir. She dropped it."

"Why is she shaking? said the captain becoming annoyed, "I will not have unprofessional behaviour on the bridge, or indeed anywhere aboard this vessel. I have noticed one or two things since taking command and if these things are not put right the people responsible will be sent home in a Pod."

He paused and ran his hand over his hair, which had thinned to long strands combed over his otherwise bald scalp,

"Have I made myself perfectly clear? Brathweight, have I made myself clear?"

With a supreme effort Emily Brathweight suppressed her laughter and said,

"Yeeeh sir."

Lt. Hive, the second in command, stepped forward to address the captain and reassure him that the crew was absolutely disciplined and ready to serve both the ship and the captain with every fibre of their being. Hive slipped and fell on his face. Emily Brathweight doubled up again. Hive, in an effort to regain his composure and momentarily take attention away from himself, for now all the crew were looking at him in different stages of hilarity, pointed to the View screen and shouted

"Look! Look at the Veiw Screen"

It was blank. It had not been turned on. The captain sighed and said,

"View Screen on!" Everyone turned to the View Screen; except Emily Brathweight who had her head pressed between her legs.

The planet Bark filled the screen.

The curve of the planet's surface slipped gently across the screen displaying an atmosphere containing bright white clouds above continents that shimmered with every colour imaginable, mountains of brown, valleys of green, forests of tartrazine. The seas shifted and sparkled with every hue.

"Turn up the colour," said Grott the science officer.

"Belay that order Ensign Wamboogler," ordered Captain Croon, "Why do you want to turn up the colour? Surely the colour is bright enough already Grott?"

Grott span round, his long needle sharp nose narrowly missing the Captains' face. The Captain flinched.

"Captain." said Grott, "Logic directs such an act. Bark is an extraordinary colourful planet, but the Barkies are exceptionally drab in appearance, including theirs ships; therefore in order to clearly observe them we must enhance the general colour of their surroundings thereby enhancing the appearance of the Barkies so more easily to see them."

"Nonsense!" barked Captain Croon, "Yet, I agree. Belay my order to belay, Ensign Whamboogler and enhance the colour - now!"

Whamboogler sprang into action and slowly turned the colour control knob. The beautiful colours changed into a brilliant garish display.

"Reminds me of a woman I knew." said Hive unaware that he had spoken aloud. "Very flashy. Loud in dress and even louder in manner, her vulgarity was matched only by her tactlessness. The Bitch!” His face had turn into a mask of hatred as the memory gripped him.

Security Officer Slack slithered up to Lt Hive and placed his claw-like hand on the second in commands shoulder, and hissed,

Hive’s eyes enlarged as self-awareness swooned upon him. He looked around at crew staring at him anew. A Cheshire cat grin spread across his face.

Slack resumed his position, pleased that he had handled the situation with sensitivity and not with savagery as would befit the horrible looking monster that he was.

"Can you see any Barkies, Grott?” said Captain Croon.

With a look of askance Grott said, "We're in orbit, five miles above. How can I see anyone on the surface?"

Enraged at Grott's obvious attempt to make him appear stupid the Captain could not contain his frustration,

"Then why did you enhance the colour? The whole idea was to see the Barkies? I know we are in orbit! I am completely aware that neither a Barky, nor any other creature can be seen on the surface from our present position. I am fully aware of our circumstances, but why did you say that we would be able to see the Barkies if we brightened the colour?"

"I meant Sir", said Grott, his eyes wide with incredulity, "That we would be able to see the Barky ship against the background of the planet."

The Captain looked at the View Screen and saw that against the garish glare the drab grey sphere that was the Barky ship drawing close to the Pickhard.

Yes, of course. Good.” said the Captain, his knuckles were white and pressed to the console rail, "Well done Grott." 'You bastard'

Hive pushed aside Emily Brathweight, who was still helpless with laughter, tore her earpiece from her ear, put it to his own ear and said, "I can hear something Captain. I think it's the Barkies hailing us."

Captain Croon raised his hand above his head, and then slowly lowering his arm pointed to Wamboogler and said,

"Connect the audio link with the Barkie ship."

Ensign Wamboogler slammed on a two-watt speaker and a tinny voice said,

"Nallo, can nou hear us? This is Emissary Nuff hailing from ner Barkie shuttle that nis approaching you. In ner noly name of Fangtee, the noly God of Nones and Killer of all Strangers to Barkie - we nail you."

"Turn up the volume. He sounds like a midget from Oz with a cold.” said Captain Croon.

Wamboogler span a wheel, pulled a lever, kicked a grotto motion bar, pushed four large red knobs, then slowly sat back in his seat and opened a newspaper.

Now in Surround Sound a thin, tinny voice said, "Nre you going to 'nswer us or not? Nambassador Ruff is onboard nan ne would like to speak"

Before Captain Croon could utter a word Grott said, "They probably speak like that. If we are not to offend Barkie protocol Captain, we must reply in a similar voice."

"How on earth am I going to speak in such a thin, reedy voice? My voice is deep and manly.” said the Captain raising his shoulders and spreading his hand to indicate his bewilderment, but unintentionally revealing a tube of Alopeasia Cream that he always carried because of his receding hair-line. Grott and other members of the crew who had spotted the cream lowered their eyes allowing the Captain to slip the tube into his Blaster holster out of sight.

"I think if you pitch your voice like them Captain it will prove acceptable to the Barkie delegation.” said Hive.

"Lieutenant Hive.” said Captain Croon, "If you think that I am going to adopt such a silly voice just to atone the Barkies you are mistaken. The dignity of the Federation cannot and will not be undermined simply because of the protocol of the inhabitants of Bark; which I may remind you are of little importance to the Federation of Planets. No, I will not compromise the respect that is due to the intergalactic organisation which we proudly serve."

"But Sir,” said Hive, "Might I remind you just as you have reminded us, though not the same thing as you reminded us of, that the Barkies have discovered the whereabouts of the planet Haash, the secret home world of the Haashish, our most dangerous enemy, who even now hold ransom Princess Sabrina."

Captain Croon's eyes visibly went hazy as an image of the Princess arose in his mind.

She stood before him with lots of make-up on, and dressed in high heels and a see through nighty. The Princess stood at her window as a then young and foolish Private Croon had stood ogling from a ledge opposite the Princess's room. Just a week before he had swung on a rope across to the Princess's open window only to have her shut it just has he gained a finger hold on the window frame. It was not her fault that he had broken his legs in the fall; he had been impetuous and foolish. So foolish that he had made another attempt to gain the Princess's attention by waving to her. Unfortunately he was in the middle of a crowd of six thousand and she had not seen him. In a last desperate attempt he had hired a small group of men, dressed them in unfashionable clothes and gathered them on the ledge opposite her window. Princess Sabrina is very fashion conscious and upon seeing that Croon was the only one wearing 17inch flares, which at that time were the apex of fashion, she immediately fell in love with him. A secret and passionate affair ensued only to be dashed by Croons transfer to Lunerwaste, the moon outpost which was so secret that Croon was allowed no contact with the Federation for a full Earth year. He was devastated. The only thing that kept him sane was the thought of his beloved Princess Sabrina and the hope that he might see her again. Tears welled in his eyes as the harp strings of memory flooded over him like an orchestra.

"Captain?" enquired Grott, puzzled by the vacant look in the Captains' eyes, "Are you all right? You look somewhat strange; as if you were recollecting some distant romantic memory concerning flares."

Grott, besides being a Nosy, was a Transparent. It was widely believed that Transparants had the ability to read minds and communicate telepathically. A skill that had been developed over thousands of years interfering in other peoples business. It took years for an individual to master such skills. Unfortunately Grott suffered from mind blindness, a condition not unlike colour blindness in that one could see most colours but could not distinguish between some. Grott could only partially read minds. Now, all he could visualise from Captain Croons mind was a pair of light blue thirty-six inch flares.

"And braces!" blurted Grott unintentionally as his mind vision resolved.

The Captain's eye's cleared at the sound of Grott's voice, but before his memories vanished he thought that no matter what the hardships, the pains and the going without things, he would be reunited with his beloved Princess Sabrina of Nesbitt world! With that thought in his mind, he turned to the View Screen, drew in his nose and said,

"Nis is Naptin Noon nof ner Narship Picknard. Greetings to ner Barkie Nelegation. It would be my pleasure to nelcome nue nerboard"

"Captain, nis is the Ambassador, greetings to nourself and nour crew.” came the tinny voice from the Surround Sound system, " Do nou have a cold?"

"No. I nam nerely nadhering to protocol which in nis case demands nat we speak like nu."

Grott noticed that the audio link was not tuned in properly. He reached over Wambooglers' shoulder and fine-tuned the link. The Barkie Ambassadors voice came through clear and sharp.

"But you sound nothing like us. Are you trying to insult us Captain? If so it is an affront to the Barkie race. An affront so serious, so appalling in its consequences that I am almost compelled to call upon the might of Bark to seek atonement for such an outrage. Let me go further. Let me say more! Let me throw down the gauntlet and pick it up and hurl it into the face of the Federation and all who belong to it and anyone who is thinking of joining it. Why, I can feel my pulse racing with anger, my five hearts beating with outrage, and I have a sort of numb feeling in my horn. Indeed my eyes are bulging with shock, my fangs clenched with fury, and my nose aflame with indignation. You have cut my sense of honour to the quick, rendered asunder my sense of being nice and made me go all funny. Captain before our great races go to war I will ask you for the last time - are you trying to insult me?"

"No." said Captain Croon.

"Okay." said the Barkie Ambassador placated.

Grott picked up a Light Pen and on a Light Pen Pad wrote, 'Beware of the Howling Moon' He tapped the Captain on the shoulder. The Captain turned, flinching again at Grott's needle pointed nose. Grott winked and handed the Light Pen Pad to the Captain. The Captain read the note and whispered to Grott in a low voice saying,

"Yes, of course! I remember the case of the Howling Moon. The Barkies tricked a delegation from the Howling Moon into signing a contract. An act that the delegation later regretted. I cannot remember why. Do not worry Grott; we will have no cause to regret anything. Don’t let on"

Grott nodded, smiled, winked, slapped his hands, kicked his heels, punched the air and shouted, "YES!"

The Captain's jaw dropped. Hive bit his knuckles, looked at his intercom ring and quickly said,

"Radiate the Barkies aboard Hooty. Shall we make our way to the Transradiate Room Captain to welcome our illustrious visitors?"

"eh?" said Captain Croon, "Oh yes, of course. Brathweight you have the bridge."

The Captain led the way to the elevator.

"What is your choice of music?" said the elevator as the doors closed.

"It really doesn't matter. Please hurry. Grott, I believe that this encounter with the Barkies will go very well, very well indeed."

The elevator door closed slowly as the first low strains from 'Jaws' began. The three men looked at each other, but said nothing.

With the "Jaws" theme receding behind them as the elevator door closed Captain Croon and his two officers headed along the corridor to the Transradiate Bay. Suddenly Jumble, Lt Hive's dog, came running up to them. Jumble was known throughout the ship as a cute and lovable dog. He was so furry that it was often difficult to tell which end was his head and which his rear. Hive threw up his hands and said,

"There you are my sweetie. Where did you get that biggie wiggie bone?

Jumble had a large bone in its mouth. He dropped the bone and sat on his hunches waving his paws in the air. Hive rubbed the dog.

"Who's a lovely bubbly bautiful boy den. Captain, it would be a great idea to take Jumble with us to meet the Barkies. After all he is there common ancestor - so to speak. They will love him."

Croon said, "As long as they don't think he's the captain"

"Quite dampened my mood, that elevator ride,” said the Captain.

Lt Hive said, "It's best to pick a tune instead of letting the elevator's computer decide, but I can't always think of one. Tell me Grott do you like music? I don't think that I've ever heard you hum a tune."

"My race has no need for gratuitous emotional stimulation. Reason alone fulfils our lives."

Before Hive could retort the Captain told them both to shut up, didn't he have enough on his mind without his two most senior officers prattling on about music? Right now music did not matter, what mattered was the Barkie delegation. He then turned right, walked in to the wall and collapsed on the floor.

"The Transreceiver Bay door is on this side, sir." said Lt Hive, reaching down to help. Captain Croon got up and pulled down his uniform top, which had risen up to his armpits. Opposite the body sensitive door hissed open. Inside Hooty, the Transreceiver Bay Controller snapped to attention with a smart salute.

"At ease Hooty." said the Captain with a half hearted return salute. He composed himself. "Tell me Hooty, has the gift I ordered for the Barkie Ambassador arrived?"

Hooty looked up from the "Spaceboy” magazine that he had resumed reading and said, "Its over there Captain, by the Hyper Cool Vector Syndrome Synthesis React Motivate Hoggle Nozzle Code Modulator clip. "Dr O' Flanagan dropped it in before going to the Sideways Bar."

"Good." said the Captain, "You may wish to look at this Lt Hive, I know that you are interested in 'ship in a bottle' models. This one is from my private collection. It depicts a masterly example of a sail propelled ship from 19th century Earth. By Neptune! They knew how to build seagoing vessels in those days. The craftsmanship! The skill! I thought long and hard about selecting this example as a gift, but we must offer something that if worthy of the occasion, what! Come here and take a look before the delegation arrives. It's in this presentation box.

The captain opened the box and reached in. He drew out the neck of a smashed bottle. He looked aghast at the shattered glass, bits of wood and string that lay strewn in the box.

" There appears to be something of a shipwreck, Captain,” said Grott.

In suppressed rage the Captain, through gritted teeth, said, "Hooty, who did you say delivered this gift?"

"O'Flanigan, sir, Doctor O'Flanigan."

"O' Flanigan! Lt Hive I want you to arrange a meeting with the good doctor and myself the moment I have some free time, would you do that for me Lt Hive."

"Yes Captain. I think the Barkie delegation are coming aboard."

The sound of humming filled the bay and the Transreciever modules began to glow.

"Stop humming Hooty!" shouted the Captain.

Now glowing so bright that it was difficult to look at them, the Transreciever Modules started to vibrate. Suddenly with a loud clap the Barkie delegation appeared.

Although humanoid in form the Barkies had descended not from apes as had the human race, but from a dog-like creature some of which characteristics the Barkies had inherited. Most of the fur had receded leaving only tufts on the top of the head, around the jaw line and on the back of the paw-like hands. Four large eyes looked keenly out from both the front and sides of the head, giving the Barkies a ninety-degree field of vision. Their nose was broad and their sense of smell was said to be so acute that they could smell a scent three miles away providing the wind was in the right direction. The lower face including the jaw protruded and held a wide mouth in which were set a double row of sharp teeth and a tongue so adapt that all the Barkies spoke like trained orators, indeed their articulation was so clipped that they all sounded like Noel Coward.

The Barkies were probably as equally shocked at human appearance when first contact was made; however all Federation personnel had been trained not to baulk or utter shock when confronted with aliens whose appearance might cause baulk or shock. Etiquette and common decency had dictated such restraint in the name of racial and species harmony.

"Look at them! Bloody hell!" blurted Hooty.

The Ambassador arrived with three guards and four assistants. Unfortunately the Transradiate platform had space enough to accommodate only six, therefore two guards and one assistant materialised off the platform and fell three feet sprawling onto the floor. This caused a massive row. Captain Croon tried to placate the Barkie Ambassador by snatching the bone out of Jumbles mouth and offering it to the Ambassador. One of the injured Barkie guards became so incensed that he fired his weapon narrowly missing Jumble. The dog jumped and ran out of the bay like a remote controlled mop. Hive could not contain himself. He leapt at the fallen guard, grabbed his leg and twisted it. The guard cried out. The Barkie Ambassador screamed that such an attack constituted act of war and demanded to be Transradiated back to his own vessel immediately, to which Captain Croon replied,

"You nearly killed Jumble!"

"And you nearly killed three of my men!" responded the Ambassador.

"Yes, well. We seem to have got off to a bad start. Let go of that guard Hive! I profoundly apologise Ambassador. Hooty should have told you how many the Transradiator platform could take. Hooty, consider yourself on a charge."

"Well, it seems that my men are not too badly harmed,” said the Ambassador.

"Then let us proceed with the formal welcome." said Captain Croon and stepped back ushering Hive and Grott to stand either side of him. He began:

"As representatives of the Federation of Planets in the Quark Quadrant, I Captain Croon and my senior officers, Lt Grott of the planet Nose and Lt Hive of the planet Earth, the very planet of which I also belong, welcome the Ambassador and his people. Welcome."

Extending his hand the Captain moved forward.

"May I now in reply..." said Ambassador Ruff. Captain Croon moved sharply back into place and gave a short embarrassed laugh.

"As I was saying," Ambassador Ruff went on, "In return may we Barkies of the Planet Bark, also extend our Prime Sniff Welcome to Captain Croon and his crew of the Intergalactic Starship Pickhard and to the Federation of Planets in the Quark Quadrant. As a sign of our friendship may I present this gift to you."

The Ambassador turned to an aid who handed him a large bejewelled bone.

"This gift is a replica of the Great Bone of Bark, sculpted by Rin Tink Tin our greatest sculptor. As you can see the gift in inlaid with Warkles, the most precious gem on Bark"

The Ambassador held the bone above his head, turned around three times, and then held it out to Captain Croon.

The Captain stepped forward to receive the gift. His mind was in a whirl of consternation about his broken gift and what now he could offer in return. He took the bone, turned to Hive and handing it to him silently mouthed,

'Help!'

Hive nestled the bejewelled bone in one arm, saluted, and having no idea how to handle the situation, looked up at the ceiling. The Captain felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. His heart raced. Then a flash of inspiration came to him. He whipped out the small tube of alopecia cream he had tucked into his holster.

"And now may I present to you Ambassador, this container of precious cream, er, the Smooth Tube of Wisdom, as it is known by my people. The cream herein is no ordinary cream. Once applied in the correct amount to the side of the cranium it will produce in the receiver insight and intelligence beyond his years. It has helped our great leaders in time of great crisis. I offer you the Smooth Tube of Wisdom!"

The Captain, holding the tube between his hands, raised it up as if it were some holy object. He began to chant gibberish in quasi-Latin. Desperate, the Captain hoped to convey the idea that he and his kind held the tube in great reverence, thereby convincing the Ambassador that he was about to receive a gift of great importance.

"Hailium, hailum, hailum." he chanted, "Bognor sandium et crumbs blocken helighast mock norummmm."

He looked left and right. Hooty was agape. Hive was still scrutinizing the ceiling. Grott was looking at his nails.

"Bronocker Kuntum, Bronocker Kuntum. Ahh God, tubey,tubey,tubey. Ahmennnnen."

As he finished his mock chant the Captain slowly fell to his knees before the Ambassador and held the tube towards him. The Captain lowered his head and hoped that his final show of subjection would satisfy his guest. Unfortunately the Captain's tension had so heightened during his deception that his grip had split the tube. Cream oozed from the tube and dripped onto the floor.

Silence filled the Transreciver Bay punctuated only by the slow insolent drip of cream. Hooty wanted to run before hostilities broke out again, but was rooted by a terrible sense of expectation. Lt. Hive, completely unable to lower his eyes, had stretched his tunic halfway down his thighs. Grott’s eyes were transfixed on the expanding pool of cream. The eyes of the Barkie delegation were fixed on their Ambassador, who, at first, was completely still, had begun to tremble. Then, as if subject to an earth tremor, his trembling broke into a quaking. With a ferocious roar he lunged at the bowed figure of Captain Croon, who would have received a severe injury had it not happened that the Ambassador's left foot slipped on the disgorged cream causing one leg to branch out from the other cleaving his crotch with a horrible crack!

The Ambassador fell sideways to the floor. Realising that the Ambassador was in terrible pain and in the dim hope of relinquishing some aspect of hope from the shambled encounter the Captain reached out to help the stricken Barkie. He slipped on the cream, fell forward and head butted the VIP in the face.

Believing the Captains move to be a deliberate attack all three Barkie guards leapt on Captain Croon and started to beat him up. The rest of the delegation grappled to lift Ambassador Ruff to his feet, but such was the pain in his torn groin that he could not bring his legs together.

"This way to the Sideways Bar." said Hooty who could not think of anything else to do in the foray. The Barkie delegation followed dragging the Ambassadors crooked body across the floor. He was shouting at Hooty, what seemed to him, unwarranted obscenities. He remained as aloof as he could, contenting himself with the occasional,

"Ballocks!" in reply.

Lt. Hive, who had been shaken out of his paralysed state when first the Ambassador had screamed, had dispatched himself into calling for help. In his panic he forgot about the Personal Panic Button attached to his belt and instead of pressing it ran about screaming. Within minutes Chief Security Officer Slack appeared at the TransReciever Bay door. Upon seeing the hideous creature the Barkie guards fled.

Slack loped forward and said, "Is you OK Captain?"

"Yes, yes, thank you Slack, just a few bruises I think,” said the Captain getting up, "Find Wire. We need him to formulate a damage limitation report to send to Federation Headquarters. Lt. Hive! Stop running about. Go and see that the Barkies get back to their shuttlecraft safely. What a shambles"

Wire, the android, had not gone to his quarters as the Captain had instructed, but had hot footed it to the Fantasy Festoonery floor where Holographic Environments could be purchased and within minutes he was in a busy East End market of Victorian London.

"Whatcha cock." greeted an ill dressed woman from a sleazy doorway lit by dim gas lamp.

Wire, now dressed in the appropriate apparel for the period tapped his Dennes on the wet pavement, raised an eyebrow and with the best roguish expression he could muster said,

"Bless my daisy roots, if it 'ant Rosie. Come 'er my little dark lantern an' give me Charity Tails a tug."

The woman giggled showing blackened teeth, "Ooo, you are a one an' no mistake. Cost yeh."

" 'ow much, me darling." said Wire raising his Dennis to his shoulder.

"Well I don't hawk me mutton for nuffinck. 'alf an Oxford."

"'alf a crown! Do me a favour Rosie. You old Hurry Whore, more like a tanner an' even that's five pence too bloody much."-

Rosie laughed, stepped out of the shadow, bent, lifted up her dress and said,

"Clap your mince pies on that lot an' tell me oo's not worff 'alf an Oxford."'

Wire adopted what he considered an approximation of a leer and said,

"Wot a gully 'ole. I'd love to oblige yeh Rosie, but I don't 'ave the gilt. I'm off to see Blackie, the landlord of 'The Wellington Boot'. 'e'll see me all right. for a few bob."

"Wire!" said Hive urgently into his Communicator Ring.

"Yes sir."

"Where are you?ˆ

"Fantasy Festoonery, deck 4 sir. 19th century London, rather a good period."

"Wire! Get to the bridge, the Captain needs you."

"If I Only Had a Heart" sung by the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz burst forth from the elevator as the doors hissed open. Wire walked out onto the bridge with a puzzled look on his face.

" Ah Wire me boy, I had nothing to do with it," said Dr O' Flanigan hastily pocketing a quarter bottle of whisky.

"You have dribble down your tunic doctor. May I suggest boiling."

Lt. Hive pushed Flanigan to one side, took Wire by the arm and whispered, "The Captain is furious. Placate him if you can, but be very, very careful."

Captain Croon was lying under the Scanner Console mumbling as Wire carefully bent over him and said,

"Is something wrong Captain?"

"This is the end of my career. Twenty six years in the fleet"

"But sir, don't you think that you are taking what I said too seriously? After all I only said 'Dan the apples and pears'. A slag phrase meaning 'to go down the stairs'. A not uncommon..."

The Captains' look of incredulity told Wire that he had missed something. Lt. Hive rapidly informed Wire about what had happed.

"Ah!" said Wire, "You wish me to compose a report of the incident such that all the facts are related accurately, but forged in a fashion that the Barkies' appear the perpetrators and not the victims."

Captain Croon jumped up, held Wire by the shoulders and said,

"That's it Wire! You have it! All the facts must be related, nothing to be left out; but delivered in a manner that the reader will be left in no doubt who is at fault." He looked over Wires' shoulder at Dr Flanagan.

"And we all know where the blame lies."

"What ye looking at me for?" said Flanagan, "I wasn't there, how can it be my fault? I didn't know what was in the box. It should've been marked fragile. Hooty should have caught it when I threw it to him. Butterfingers Hooty, eh"

"I'm not blaming anyone,” said the Captain as he walked up to Flanagan, "What is done can be undone with a touch of verbal dexterity; a touch of android adroitness, if I may be permitted to use such a phrase, eh Wire. A little bit of factual facility, ha, ha, ha, heh, heh"

Lt. Hive shifted his gaze to Grott who switched his attention to Flanagan who veered away as Captain Croons' punch flew passed his ear and smashed into a steel pillar behind. No one moved as Captain Croon turned moaning and clutching his fist. "Yes, no one is to blame, he, he, he."

Grott stepped up to the captain and said,

"Perhaps it would be best if we all got some rest."

"I agree. Best rest. We are all over wrought. Yes let us all relax for a while. Dr Flanagan, perhaps you would join me in a small dram before we retire? I know that I could do with one."

Flanagan hesitantly nodded and both men headed towards the elevator.

"Yes, yes" said the Captain in a strangled voice, "Take the bridge Wire. Keep on the prearranged co-ordinates through the spaceflux until the Time Incline leans and we stoop into Swerve Space, then use the Twist Thrusters to veer us into Starbulge mode; but make sure we don't fall into a matter collapse and crumple our Groons. God, I feel sick."

"Yes, the Captain is right Wire", said Lt. Hive, "We don't want to contort and deform the Timeflak Continuum. A space disfigurement would mess up the Parallax Misshape and wrench our Groons."

Twenty-four hours later Wire had finished his report on the Barkie encounter and was taking it to Captain Croon's quarters. On the way he chanced upon Lt Hive in the elevator, who was looking uncomfortable as 'Yellow River' played from the speakers.

"We really must do something about this elevator." said Hive, "It has a mind of it's own."

"Not of it's own sir. It is connected to the main computer and cannot be regarded as a separate entity."

"Yes, all right Wire; I don't need a lecture."

"Yes sir. Would you like to see the Barkie report?"

"No, no. I have enough to do. I have every confidence in you Wire. I'm sure it is satisfactory. What level do you want?"

"I am going to the Captains quarters on level 10"

"We have gone past that level. Do you want to go to my level and then return to level 10 or do you want to get out and go back in another elevator?"

"No"

“No to what? Go with me or get out?"

"No to go with you"

"So you want to get out?"

"No"

"But you just said, you didn't want to go with me"

"No. I said that I did want to go with you"

The music changed to 'Silence is Golden'

Captain Croon lay spread naked across his bed holding his erect penis when Wire walked in.

"Oh!" exclaimed the Captain jerking up and pulling the covers over him.

"Good morning Captain Croon." said Wire oblivious to the Captains embarrassment. Devoid of all but the most rudimentary emotion Wire had a conception of embarrassment, but no feeling of it, which often made him insensitive to the condition of others. "I trust you had a peaceful shutdown and that you are now recharged and ready to activate into another day?'

"Pass me my dressing gown would you Wire"

"I have bought you the report sir."

"Yes, thank you Wire. I'll read it later." Wrapping his gown around him the Captain crossed over to the service console and ordered tea. A cup of steaming tea appeared in the Materialisation Hatch. Croon picked it up, took a sip and said in a deep voice of satisfaction,

"Loooverley"

"We are approaching the Groundski Quadrant sir. Do you wish to stop. We are low on Hedgebowloons and we can replenish our supply on the planet Crunchy."

"Yes, a good idea Wire. Without Hedgebowloons our Hinz Roll would not work, and we are going to need that when we finally get to the Outer Cover. Yes, head for Crunchy."

Suddenly over the ships open intercom system came a message.

"Captain the Crunchies are approaching at breakneck speed!"

"Good. Let's hope they all break their necks. Turn on the Melloniods! Wire get to the bridge"

"Hokey Coaky" said Wire and swished out the door.

Captain Croon quickly dressed. Before leaving he picked up the Barkie report and scanned through it rapidly. It looked as if Wire had done a good job giving a positive spin to the Barkie fiasco. It would not look good if on his first trip out as Captain he was made to appear lacking in command. As a senior Federation officer he must uphold the dignity of the important office that had been placed in his hands. He turned to the Federation Shield that hung on the wall, stood to attention and saluted it. As he passed the mirror on his way out he noticed that he had put his trousers on backwards.

"What would you like to hear," said the elevator.

"What! I don't care." blasted the angry Captain, " Just get me to the Bridge double quick"

The elevator struck up 'I Am Anti-Christ' by the Sex Pistols.

"My God!' exclaimed Croon, "Not that! Play something classical"

The music abruptly changed to a crash of symbols and burst of trumpets causing the captain to slam his hands to his ears and bend over double.

"Turn down the volume!"

The elevator replied, "What? I can't hear you!"

The doors slid open and Captain Croon rushed out.

"Crikey!" exclaimed Hive.

"What is the matter Hive? asked the Captain as he headed for the Command Console.

"A Heliotrpic Scanner has just fallen on my foot. Eeeek!"

"Well wake up your ideas Hive. You seem to be in a trance ever since Professor Minceski hypnotised you for fun in the Sideways Bar last night"

"I abjectly apologise sir. Look! On the View Screen an alien vessel approaches. By the insignia on its wingtips it is a Crunchy ship. Yet my intuition tells me that it is a Tokenise vessel on it's way to Bali Hi, in which case we better not fire a petroleum stream bolt at them an annihilate them from the face of space. What do you think Sockup”?

"How should I know." said Sockup. Sockup was in charge of wiping the ash trays clean in the Sideways Bar and had only been called to the bridge to wipe up the sick Dr Flanagan had vomited the night before. He was surprised that Lt Hive should ask his opinion. He bit his lip.

‘This is your chance Sockup,' he nervously thought, 'The chance to prove yourself in front of the Captain',

"Wait a minute!" he blurted, hoping to impress everyone and thereby get the promotion that had always slipped through his fingers. Not that he had ever tried for promotion, he was contented being a janitor, no worries, no responsibilities, but now was his chance to elevate himself, to make something of his life, to become successful, earn lots of money, buy a yacht, learn to sing!

"If we use paper cups in the bar instead of glasses it would save a lot of washing up"

"Get back to the ashtrays Sockup. I should have known better than to give my promise to give you a chance when I was drunk. Not that I was drunk of course. Was I Sockup?" pleaded Croon.

"Drunk, drunk! Why no sir, of course not. It was me that was drunk I cracked the mirror and did a moony on the bar and pissed all over the carpet."

"Yes, yes, quite, we have no need to go into details,” said the captain, “Hive, is the ship a Crunchy or a Tockanise - or what! The Captain thought, 'I'm I surrounded by nincompoops? If only my beloved Princess Sabrina was here with me at this moment to advise me’ He slipped opens a draw and looked lovingly down at a framed photograph of his great love.

"A Hag"

Enraged the Captain spun round and grabbed Lt. Hive by his collar, "How dare you!"

At that moment the approaching Hag ship fired. The plasma beam hit the bow and the Pickhard shook. Everyone on the bridge swayed from side to side just as they had been trained to do in acting lessions. Lt. Hive and Captain Croon, locked together, swayed from side to side as if they were dancing. Hive put his arms around his Captain and looked meaningfully into his eyes. The Captain pushed him away,

"Get off me you filthy devil!"

A burst of white energy spread out, surrounded the Hag vessel and collapsed upon it, then shrank to a pinhead and disappeared.

"We have overcome many dangers in our quest around the universe. Many hardships have we endured. Now, we must go on and face other dangers, other foes and other hideous creatures, but one thing is certain I know. That we will find Princess Sabrina and return her home."

To be continued…

BASILDON PARADE OF BEUATY QUEENS MARRED BY UGLY WOMEN OUTSIDE TOWNGATE PUBLIC HOUSE.

Basildon’s annual Parade Of Beauty Queens was marred Saturday by the presence of a group of ugly women outside the Towngate public house.

Henry Forshaw (45) the organizer of the yearly event said the parade was ruined by the presence of two dozen hideous local woman hanging about outside the pub and shouting abuse at the beautiful girls.

“Some of the contestants were reduced to tears by the cat-calling. One fat woman dressed in beer stained sensitive shorts and a tight fitting Motion Jacket between which her belly hung like a jelly fish, shouted, ‘You bunch of slags!’

Another woman who had a body that was so anorexic the cheeks of her backside looked like two electric irons, flicked a cigarette butt which hit 20 year old petite contestant Louise Workington in the face.”

Plastic pint ‘glasses’ were thrown at the Beauty Queen float as it passed between The Towngate and the Moon on the Square public houses. One female heckler holding two small children bellowed, ‘You toe rags couldn’t bring up kids properly like wot we do!’

Another of the women cried out, ‘You touch my fucking husband and I’ll tear your eyes out!’ And with that she blew snot into her hand and flicked it at the driver of the float. He flinched and in doing so pressed down on the throttle. The festive lorry lurched and ran over two of the protesting woman. One exploded with a loud bang and the other got caught between the double wheels and swiftly rotated before she was flung into a passing group of councillors who had, once again, failed to arrange the event. They were knocked over like skittles.

Police arrived and exacerbated by the fact that all of the female protesters were their wives and girl friends tore into sightseers. They lashed out, punching anyone who did not resist. Those who did resist were arrested. Their wife’s supported the officers with shrieks of: ‘Do the bastards up!’ and ‘Hit that good looking girl there!’

Most of the beauty queens were left with black eyes and broken noses.

Lara Lardon (27) said, “We hang about outside pubs because we refuse to take our kids inside. We have self-respect. Our children will grow up knowing that we took care of them. I will never allow my daughter to have a full pint until she is ten. And as for fags, know way - never before twelve. That is our code.”

Later, the women hammered a girl for wearing an Ejecta Seamless Compression Vest that fitted her.

EHO (Essex Health Organization) ups pandemic alert level.

The Essex Health Organization has raised the alert over booze flu to 55% Volume level - one short of a full-blown intoxicated epidemic, or pandemimoore.

A phase 55% volume alert means man-to-woman sexual transmission in at least two bedrooms.

The move comes after a 23 year old Basildon alcoholic died in Texas - Home Store - the first death from wine flu outside Wickford, where the outbreak originated.

In Spain, officials confirmed that all UK holiday makers have the booze flu.

Announcing the latest alert level after an emergency EHO meeting in The Moon on the Square, Director General Margaret O’ Reilly urged all public houses to activate their pandemic plans, including chairs & tables outside and heightened surveillance of smokers.

CONFIRMED CASES

The Beehive: 159 suspected talking a load of old ballocks - seven confirmed. The Towngate: one death from swallowing own vomit, at least 91 confirmed cases of blue veined noses. The Scene: 13 confirmed cases of poncing cigarettes. The Moon on the Square: 5 confirmed cases of sponging pints and 100 suspected cases of claiming Job Seekers Allowance illegally.

O’Riely said action should be undertaken with "increased urgent drinking".

She added: "It really is the whole of Basildon that is under threat in a booze pandemic."
But she also said the town was "better prepared for a pandemic than at any time in history. For the first time, the pandemic could be tracked in real time. Opening and closing time.

This was necessary because the virus could mutate at any time into a more dangerous strain - spirit drinking.“

The EHO says short measures are unlikely to prove effective. Up to 6,000,003 people could get drunk.

SYMPTOMS

Sufferers will initially experience flushing of the skin; then heart speed up; propensity to talk to much and loudly; loss of judgement; blurred vision; ugly barmaid looks attractive; conviction people are talking about you; compulsion to fight someone; unconsciousness and death.

A dating site has been set up excusivly for Basildonians. At www.bazdate.com you can watch a video of the first lucky winners and meet the girl or boy of your choice. People who come from every corner of the dark continent known as Basildon!

The very first lucky girl is Mavis Trumpeturndinsideoutarse (49) with walking stick and wheelybin.

'I like to go into Smiths the Butchers and asked the old man who servers to get me a pound of grapes. Then when he has got those I ask him to get me a half pound of runner beans. I don't take no notice of the queue behind me. Then when he has got those I ask him to get me a ha' pound of cheese. By now he is going blue in the face and the person behind me is huffing. Then I take my time putting my shopping in my wheelie. The old man is waiting to be paid. I keep him waiting then suddenly stuff a tenna in his mitt. Before anyone can say anything, I say, 'You're not very nice are you' Thereby making them all feel guilty.'

That is so wonderful. What a wonderful story from Trumpeturndinsideoutarse. Now who is your date on tonight's wonderful show Mavis?

Wiping his nose Henry bends down and picks up a matchstick. He takes out an old rusty tin from his wide blowing trousers and rolls a dusty fag. His bandy legs follow him down the glittering staircase. He sneezes and a lump of snot bugles from his bulging nose and lands on the collar of his crippled grey tweed jacket. He trips over his crooked walking stick and falls on his large blue nose. Blood spurts onto the glassy floor and three beetles slip from his collar.

Well ladies and gentlemen is this not amazing Henry is so much in love with Trumpeturndinsideoutarse he has fallen over. Now Mavis why don't you just go over and help out your date? Is this not so amazing Ladies and Gentlemen. Our next two lonely hearts, if I may put it that way, are Fiftysixbits Grimsby and his date Irene Fridge. Here they are!

The golden curtain goes up and we see a old grey haired toothless skinny merchant who drags on his partner.

Now don't they look wonderful folks. Oh, yes they do, (gulp, he is getting bilious) Come down, yes come on down, mind you're medals there Mr. Grimsby, they are dragging on the floor.

'No, no son, don't you worry about my medals. I have worn these since I lost my wife to a German sniper. I got him though, oh yas, I got him. Unfortunately I stepped on a landmine as I was going to get him and as you can see the result. Stilts, yes I walk on stilts now.'

Yes, thank you. Let the show go on. (I'll do you later, you old fart.) This is BazDate, and Mr. Grimsby, you have found a new partner in your life.

Thank you. Get off. Now lets bring on a truly in love couple who met on BazDate. Darren Basebally and his new beautiful girlfriend Devoid Trumpeturndinsideoutarse. Are you related to Mavis?

'Well, you know what I mean, I dos what has to be what it is and got to do what it is before what it is , isn't it.'

***
THE CAST:-
Mavis Trumpeturndinsideoutarse. SHARON STONE.
Henry Carrot. SIR IAN MCKELLIAN
Irene Fridge. CLINT EASTWOOD (a non speaking part)
Devoid Trumpeturndinsideoutarse. GIL GRISSOM.
Darren Basebally. HIMSELF.
The Compare. AN AUSTRALIAN WOMBAT. (trained by the cast}
The writer. WILLIAM SHAKESPARROT. (who red his plays)

“If we allow people from other countries to flood into Basildon our tarmac streets will be a river dance of fire.”

So said top councillor Sean O’ Ambimbola, warning us all of immense danger of migrants flooding in like fire.

“It has been too easy to get into Basildon. We must set up a powerful set of controls to stop it. We cannot let people who do not know their ABG’s or 2&2 makes 22 to pollute our pubs.”

Local business man, owner of Cash Converters, Hymen Goldfinger added:- “The gollywog is right. There has to be a balance between who is coming in and who is entering.”

The local vicar Adelphi Von Munster backed

up these words by saying,

“Ve must hav tough new points zystem, based akpon zer Arian model. Andt our plans for newcomers must include zer slaves, er, newtcomers to earn zer zitizenship, by verking hard in zalt mines, er, local companies, to reduce overall cost. Zen after a number of years zay vill be awarded permanenzt zettlement. Godz bless you all, Heil God!”

Figures from the Office of Basildon Statistics show the population grew by nearly this much to almost that much between 2001 and 2007. These figures are serious and it can be shown how serious they are by showing another lot of statistics which no one believes in.

Basildon statistician, Professor Achaikos Aesop, said,

“ These statistics are significant, they show something. The figures leave no room for doubt that if uncontrolled statistics get into the country everyone will become a statistic.”

Spokes person for Basildons own royal family Sir Steven Knightsbridge said,

“The Gloucester-Parks know that Britain is overcrowded. They can hardly walk around a turret without seeing a bronze age village populated with archaeologists in the vague

distance near the horizon, Only yesterday, Princess Henry rode six miles and was suddenly stopped by a gate. This is imprisonment in our own land. Prince Flaggy, flew his self built super war machine helicopter on a hedgehog hunt only seven miles before he was interrupted by a motorway. This over population cannot continue otherwise royals will soon be forced to live in over crowded conditions like people in cities.”

Albert Cowpat (56) has died from a radioactive fart.

A post-mortem examination is due to be carried out on the body of the former Council spy.

Those present will wear protective masks to avoid contamination by traces of the polonium-210 isotope stink.

The probe into the death has seen two public lavatory pans tested for fart radiation and a turd is to be flown to Wickford Stinks laboratory for checks.

It has emerged that Basildon Market stall salesperson Lesley Mince and Colors barman Mackie Kickers both sat on the pans.

The pair defecated in the public toilet on the market 18 times since Cowpat fell into an isotopic fart coma.

A spokesman for the homosexual club Colors said the two minces had contacted the NHS for health advice after their backsides developed huge holes.

The ongoing investigation has unearthed traces of fart radiation at 14 toilet locations in Basildon, including The Towngate and Beehive public houses, the Job Centre and the now defunct CSA offices on the 5th floor of Great Oaks House.

That includes two bus driver seats, which tested positive after being used to drive between Basildon and Wickford.

The council have stressed that any risk to public health is low, but this is an excellent opportunity to scare the public and rubbish communist Wickford

EXPOSURE RISK

Sweat or urine from the seats could lead to exposure. But polonium-210 farts must be ingested with carrots to cause damage. Radiation has very short range and cannot pass through skin without an injection. Not thinking about the danger eliminates illness.

Mr Cowpat, an ex-KGB boxer and a fierce critic of neighbours putting black rubbish bags on his doorstep, died last week of radiation farts attributed to the highly toxic stink isotope polonium-210.

The inquest into the death of Mr Cowpat was opened and adjourned before the pubs opened on Thursday.

Coroner Dr Andrew Reid said the level of radioactive fart in Mr Cowpat’s system indicated it had come from a source ‘other than a natural one’.

COWPAT 'S MOVEMENTS

1: Drinks at The Towngate
2: Drinks at The Beehive
3: Drinks at home in Felmores
4: Admitted to Basildon hospital for drinks
5: Transferred to Pitsea tip for drinks, where he dies on 23 November.
7: Drinks at Graveyard

Basildon musicians don't want their tunes used for torture.

The U.S. has used loud music against those held on Canvey Island, near Iraq and Afghanistan, and Basildon music folk are complaining. They are banding together to demand the U.S. military stop using their songs as weapons.

Blaring from a speaker behind a metal grate in his tiny cell, Lenny Hipjoint said,

‘What? I can’t hear you.’

Like a sonic bludgeon Hot Metal curled his ears and bent the his brain. He is a suspected terrorist from Pitsea.
.
‘Blood poured from my ears and my teeth vibrated like a jack hammer, as for the fiftieth time my jailers played ‘Steel Shakes In Pitsea Tip’ by The Westmayne Wild Bunch. My bunk was wired up to the electric socket and my hair frazzled up like a man on acideeed. The sound of distorted guitars chewed into my bones and I felt as if I were going to be pulsated to death.’

The auditory assault went on for days, weeks, months and then minutes. ‘Dance of the Wickford Vampires’ went on so long I thought I was turning into a vampire, especially when I sucked the blood out of my only friend, a cockroach. It turned on me, scuttled up my leg and lay four million eggs in my pants.’

Eggy Handsworth, local rock band leader said,

‘I will not have it man. My music will not be used as a form of torture.’ When told his music was not played, he got upset.

Military contractor Eric Blackwater of Billericay, told The Echoing About Sod All Newspaper he was suicidal after reading their rag.

‘Systematically using boring stories loudly should not be allowed. Local people have had enough of death and destruction, we want bereavement and devastation for a change, to cheer us up.’

With that Blackwater put on his balaclava and shouted at his neighbours through a rolled up newspaper.

Asbos will be given to all prisoners for Christmas if they complain.

Mavis O' Communist said, ‘What we all need is a dose of AC/DC and five fingers of an Irish potato drink.

American actors Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes swung into Basildon yesterday to exchange wedding vows in the now empty Woolworths.

The wedding was celebrated by Scientology loony’s in accordance with the couple's faith in Moonbeams Are Wishes and Noises Are Ghosts.

Crowds of onlookers and journalists gathered outside the Moon On The Square for a glimpse of the celebrities.

The wedding capped a week of Hollywood mania and drug fuelled frenzy in the town.

The centre of Basildon was sealed off from Laindon.

As darkness fell, oil-fed torches glowed from the eyes of mock 15th Century monks, who pulled up their robes and urinated in to the Mother and Baby Fountain.

Cruise's publicist, Arnold Satan, told Basildoneye that the urination ceremony was performed in front of more than 150 Basildon shoppers. Most of whom were one-parent families and pensioners.

The guest list included that bloke who sits in the corner all by himself and sells cheap tobacco; the girl who works in the pound shop; and Bert Hammerface.

Holmes wore a Primarks dress, with a horsehair train adorned with crystal meths, while Cruise wore his Ego.

After the ceremony, Pitsea singer Arthur Brown (72)serenaded the couple. He sang Knees Up Mother Brown in dedication to his dead mother whom he had with him in a cart.

Scientology ceremony
Cruise, 44, and Holmes, 27, got engaged in June 2005, two months after they were first photographed together in Cash Converters.

Cruise, who has starred in Mission Impossible and War of The Worlds, said he proposed to Holmes on top of the Basildon Bell Tower.

It is Cruise's third wedding. He was previously married to actresses Mimi Rogers and Nicole Kidman.

He adopted children with Kidman before they divorced in 2001.

The Church of Scientology was set up in the US in 1954 and claims eight million insane people worldwide.

The church's teachings are based on the writings of the late science-fiction author L Ron Hubbard, who spelled out principles that he called Scientology and Diabetics.
But critics say it is a fake religion based on making money from its followers, unlike other religions of course.
A Scientology wedding contains many elements including waving at the horizon, speaking with shadows and acting. Also elements fundamental to Scientology, such as taking off your clothes before leaning sideways and blowing out a candle before roasting a hand.

A spokesman for the Church of Scientology, Harry Jew, said its wedding ceremonies are not legally recognised anywhere on this planet, so Cruise and Holmes would have to have a civil union on Pluto sometime in the unforeseeable future.

Four residents of Burnt Mills were arrested in the early hours of yesterday before today which will happen again next week, by the police under the new law of pre-emptive crime battle with the Taliban.

The Taliban are a disparate group of War Lords with weapons of mass destruction such as dangerous rocks, deadly catapults and flying carpets to throw camels off. How horrible! Throwing a dromedary off a carpet. The undemocratic barbarians! We would have voted.

And that is why said the self ruled police the Burnt Mills Four had to be arrested. To stop them doing something that might do to disrupt G20 summit. Warnings by police that protesters are planning to bring Basildon to standstill at 2am are among several statements by them in a self fulfilling prophesy.

Every officer at Basildon Police station, now called the Brown Zone, was issued with a ten pound note to wave at customers going into Primark’s.

“This is very serious.” said Chief Constable Leonard Harris (48) standing in his steel capped boots. “Very serious indeed. We take it very serious as should the public if they are going to be serious for a moment.”

Basildoneye crime reporter Lips Dribbling asked: Have the four arrested been charged with a crime?

“No, not with an actual crime, but one that might have been committed if we had not arrested the first potential criminal and subsequently arrested his co-conspirators who might also have been involved with the dangerous plot.”

Can you give any details of the plot?

“Not at this moment in time, if there were a moment that was outside of time, we could not either. What the public must understand is that they are in terrible danger. Anything horrible could happen at any moment in time. They must be in fear otherwise we wouldn’t have a job, would we. This is an operational matter.”

So you can arrest anyone at any time for something they might possibly do?

“Yes”

The ancient game of Rubyfanchancy was under way. The five gathered souls all knew the other , yet none trusted the other, without knowing each had bribed the master thrower of dice at one time, so none would challenge his judgement of the outcome of the aforementioned game.

On this particular night they were all in a conspiracy to cheat a newcomer, a young master Chips Camberwell from Clarkenwell, who this very ‘half noon happened to meet the petty villains in whose clutches he now unbeknowinglistly (a word not found by Dr. Johnson, but known to Blackadder) found himself. Lacey, the master thrower, unbeknownst to the other four of his usual crew had made up his mind to teach them a lesson they would never forget, for it is for the character of such low life to sometime teach the other a lesson such about to play.

Allowing Chips to win a few rounds of meagre monies they were now about to pounce with a big win against him. Chips threw his dice and with the strike of a snake Lacey grabbed up the dice before any of the others could see the throw.

“Rubyfanchancy!” cried Lacey.

What? No! Hey! Oh! Went up the cries of his fooled foils, all dumbstruck, yet all too fearful of calling Lacey a liar. He had too much on all of them, and each in the belief that they alone were in personal favour with Lacey.

The young Chips Camberwell could not believe his luck. He had won! The last shilling that his dieing old mother had left him had come through. He looked around at the surprised faces of his new friends and each face beneath the gas lamp had upon it a look of ghostly anger and despair. Lacey quickly gathered the winnings and stuffed the coins into the shaking hands of Chips.

“Take your winnings Chip and with it make your way in the world! Go, go now, get off - go!”

Chips ran. And all that could be heard were the echoes of his quick steps receding over the cobblestones into the foggy night.

The four like rats suspecting their food had been stolen from under their noses glared at Lacey, but each afraid to accuse lest he expose them for the cheats to the other they were. Lacey grinned and said,

“It seems that fate has betrayed us all this night gentlemen.”

They departed, each down a different alleyway to their nests.

When Lacey arrived home he looked at his new born daughter and decided to call her Ruby.

What happened to the rest is speculation, yet bodies turned up in various locations over the next years. On Ruby’s twenty first birthday she shit herself. What happened to chips, well that remains to be a secret.

By Nancy Nicecake, royal reporter and predatory lesbian.

Top Tory Mulhoone Bucklehead has ’discussed reform with Basildon royals The Gloucester-Parks.

Rules to the succession of The Moon on the Square are to include giving royal women equal bar rights, so that they can laugh at poor people from time to time.

When I walked in to the palatial sitting room I tripped over pile of Tupperware full of sick from the previous nights party to celebrate Princess Slag’s’ new diamond bracelet known as The Pink Purple Pussy. The princess greeted me with a grimace and a look of malice from her bloodshot eyes peering out from deep sockets.

I curtsied twisting my legs into a knot and kissing the princesses blue veined hand. Her royal highness acknowledged my obsequious curtsey with a toothless grin and a long moan.

“Your Majesty. May I worshipfully inquire if you are in agreement with the reforms?”

“No, one is not, you lower order person from working class land. We see no reason to change a tradition that has maintained for thousands of years just to appease a plea for equality amongst you filth from sink estates. You may sit on that spike.”

I sat as gently as I could upon the golden spike given to the princess by Prince Abdul Hic Mock of Saudi Arabia.

“Yet surely it is time for the royal family to adjust to modern democracy by allowing ordinary subjects some pitiful illusion of change?”

“No. My sister-in-law tried to marry a wog and we got rid of her quick enough in the Blackwall Tunnel.”

As the spike went up my anus, I squawked,

“Long live the Queeeen! The people are restless for change, if you do not show some willingness, then you might have a revolution on your hands. Fucking hell, this hurts.”

“Do the lower classes have guns? No. We have the armed services all of whom have pledged their allegiance to we the royals. The police are on our side and any sign of rebellion will be dealt with in the harshest fashion.”

“Have you got any Preparation H? Yet many believe that the monarchy is out of touch with the people of Basildon. Is this not the right time to show a modicum of understanding that the world is changing and you ought to give a sign that you are prepared to reform?”

“Why? What can they do? Write to the Newspapers, all of which are on our side. No, the people are pigs swill and like animals there for our benefit, to do as we like with them. It says so in the Bible and that royalty is ordained by God, anyone who opposes us, opposes God Almighty.”

“Can I stand up? I need a poo.”

“Stay seated on the spike. Only then will you show loyalty and love to me. Let me spit some gin and tonic into your face.”

“Thank you so much.”

The rules of succession are laid down in the 1701 Act of Settlement.
COUNCIL POLL: THE PUBLIC SPEAKS
Equal rights for royal badgers? - 89% yes. Heir allowed to marry Catholic paedophile? - 81% yes. Basildon monarchy to continue? - 76% yes 1,000 servants of the royal household polled by ICM Research.

It states heirs to the throne lose their right to be the sovereign if they marry a Cake. In addition, male heirs are given lots of public money. If the Act was changed to give royal daughters equal rights, Princess Slag would become fourth in line, behind Prince Harry O' Corbett. Currently she comes after the Duke of Dickinson-for-Sale and the Earl of Whorl, and their children. As things stand, Prince Villiam cannot marry a Romany and become king. And if he has a daughter she cannot be queen if she has a bigger bum. Prince Michael of Cunt, the inbred mad first cousin, is among a small number of royals who have renounced their place in the line of scoffing by marrying a horse. Winter O’ Kelly, the Canadian wife of the Queen's grandson Peter Phipflop, gave up her Catholic faith ahead of their 1808 wedding so she could continue to be rich.

The 1701 Act of Settlement was designed to secure lands and wealth, from those lands, for the monarchy. The rules of primofuckus, Latin for first robber, mean the rich come first and date back to feudal times when poor people had no say.

Basildoneyes royal correspondent Nancy Nicecake said her rectum will be stitched up with humility and crass obedience.

Prince Chips and his officials were laughing about the changes that could be made to the monarchy when he finally succeeds to the throne.

He added that allowing worms to the throne to marry spoilt women "opened a can of ecclesiastical heirs" for the Church of Robbers, the official church of which the monarch is the Supreme Governor.

Sources at the Basildon Centre have said while the council supports the "principles and objectives" of the bill in a hundred years, it will never support the bill itself.

Such reform would need the backing of the 15 other Basildon councillors which have the Basildon monarch as their spunk wish.

All computers were to crash at midnight on the change of the century. The Internet, the world wide web and global confusion would crash into a sea of chaos at that precise hour of midnight. All this was predicted. And it would have happened if it were not for The Basildon Angel Bug.

Now we all know that the Millennium Bug was a confidence trick, perpetrated by the knowledgeable rich to get money out of the spending population of the world. Another witch hunt that we all fell for, another Hi-Tec terrorist that we believed, and another ghost in the machine we thought existed as we once did the ethereal fluid said to flow like blood through the veins of the Greek mythological gods.

We sat and waited. Then came 11.59. With blooded fingernails, and faces gasping for air. It happened! Like an explosion of balloon dust.

Why did it not happen as predicted? Because the Basildon Angel Bug was sent over the world wide web at the last moment and saved the entire planet from disaster. If this had not happened you could not have had another baby, you could have not had another haircut and you could not have had another hedgehog!

All these things were saved by The Basildon Angel Bug. Basildoneye has the clearance from the Ministry Of Defence to tell the public the truth and with the Freedom Of Information Act we do disclose that most of the terrorist viruses that you all fear are claptrap!

The only defence against direct intrusion of fear on your brain and computer is The Basildon Angel Bug!