Category: Grim

Avatar Newsboost – celebrity sunshine science shroud

The world has been shocked today by the news that former X-Factor winner Shayne Ward has been caught trying to cover up the sun with tinfoil.

Tameside police were called to the singer’s luxury mansion in Stockport on Saturday afternoon following reports from neighbours that a huge ladder situated in his back garden was temporarily blotting out the sun from their gardens during the recent heat wave. Upon entering the premises, officers discovered that it wasn’t the ladder but Mr. Ward himself balanced at the top of the ladder trying to wrap the sun in tinfoil of all things.

“I’ve seen a lot of things working as a policewoman in Manchester but this tops the lot,” says Fairweather Skindle, one of the first to arrive on the scene. “It seemed like celebrity madness what with the crazy temperatures we were experiencing. If it wasn’t Shayne Ward blocking the sun with a ladder it could easily be, I don’t know, Ricky Hatton throwing bowling shoes at swans. Anything is possible.”

Mr. Ward was taken into custody shortly after 2pm. His solicitor arrived at the police station half an hour later with one of those sexy summer coffees from Starbucks and half a watermelon, carved into reasonably-sized slices.

The unusual nature of the “crime” has called into question whether or not the defendant was actually committing any misconduct given that nobody was hurt, nothing was stolen, everyone was fine and we all went out for ice creams afterwards.

We consulted with Sedgwick Robust, a physicist who works up the road from where our building is.

“Not taking into account the sanity of the person undertaking the act, based on my calculations you would need approximately 676,444,444,444,444.444444444444444 rolls of foil to cover the entirety of the sun. This would be assuming that you were using extra long foil, measuring 30m by 30cm.”

(We were going to ask for the calculations using regular sized tinfoil and decided against it.)

“As well as this, due to the extreme surface temperature, the aluminium would have melted long before Mr. Ward ever made it to the sun. He would also have died too because if he didn’t suffocate from the lack of air then he would have fried from the intense heat. There isn’t a known material that has a high enough melting point that could allow you to get near to or cover the sun.”

We’re not even sure how much money it would cost in order to buy that many rolls of tinfoil. Not even a crazy billionaire would want to foot that bill and certainly Inside Soap Award’s ‘Best Newcomer’ and TV Choice Award’s ‘Best Soap Newcomer’, both from 2016, wouldn’t think to do so.

We here at Newsboost all hope that this was merely a misunderstanding and wish Mr. Ward a swift recovering (and possibly one of those watermelon slices).

Avatar Blame game

Recently Ian invited us to try blaming it on the spicy margs. It seemed like a good idea so I had a go.

I am now in a positon to report my results.

Experiment 1

Early last week I needed to go to the supermarket. On arrival I ran straight to the meal deal fridges, barged some other customers out of the way, and started chugging own-brand banana milkshakes one after another, throwing the empty bottles on the floor behind me. When the security guard apprehended me and asked what I was doing I wafted my mouth like I was suffering severe heat burns and told him it was because of the spicy margs.

Result: banned from Sainsbury’s, Water Lane, Farnham. The phrase “spicy margs” not understood by Group 4 security personnel even on the third or fourth time of repeating it.

Experiment 2

On Friday last week I got the train to work without buying a ticket. When the conductor arrived and asked to see my ticket I told him I hadn’t got one. When he asked why not I said it was because of the spicy margs.

Result: £49 penalty fare. Spicy margs not applicable under railway bylaws.

Experiment 3

Two days ago, I went over to the shared kitchen area at work and found a woman making a round of tea for her colleagues. Maintaining eye contact throughout, I pushed all the mugs of tea onto the floor, where some of them smashed and the tea went everywhere. She jumped backwards, since her feet were now covered in very hot tea, catching her skirt on a drawer handle and sustaining some minor damage to her attire. She asked me what the hell I thought I was doing. I told her it was because of the spicy margs.

Result: employment tribunal pending. Union legal representative advises me that spicy margs are not a defence under the terms of my employer’s code of conduct.

Conclusion

Blaming it on the spicy margs is terrible advice. I will not be spending £14.99 on the framed art print that Ian was advertising.

Avatar Ba-na-nay-nay

I woke up on Thursday with a specific purpose. I didn’t know that purpose until I got to work later on that morning.

I was sat next to wor Geoff, who’s always got something interesting to say. We were chatting about interesting jobs and he mentioned bananas.

“Bananas? What do you mean?” I asked. It turns out that on his breaks wor Geoff likes to browse the Internet and goes down rabbit holes of various topics depending on how he’s feeling that day. He mentions that apparently there is a job called an authorised banana weigher. I scoff at such a prospect but a little Google later and I find the details on gov.uk website. There IS a job where you are a person who is officially authorised to weigh bananas. I excitedly scan through the page looking for the details on how to become one and reach a list. In order to become one you have to:

  • have no record of infringement or repeated infringements of customs and tax legislation
  • provide assurance that weighing operations will be performed correctly
  • have access to appropriate and maintained weighing equipment
  • maintain accurate records so customs can carry out controls
  • give customs advanced notice of all weighing operations

It’s beautiful. I can do all of this. All I need is some proper weighing scales and I am golden. I’m about to click on the link to fill the form in, well on my way to being an official banana weigher, and my eyes drift back over the list. I’ve missed one. There’s a fairly important one that I must have glazed over.

  • be involved in the import, carriage, storage or handling of fresh bananas

Boo! Booooo! How am I gonna start importing banana? I’ve got no contacts in the banana industry. I can’t fill in a form and start walking around in big shoes, I have to *actually* do something outside of my comfort zone.

Crestfallen, I close the page and return to my job. The excitement has gone. I will never be fully authorised to weigh my bananas, your bananas or anyone’s bloody bananas.

Avatar A criminal act

Sorry to end the month on a downer, but I think this has to be shared.

I no longer eat at the canteen at work. The reasons are varied, and include steadily deteriorating portion sizes, a reduction in options and eye watering prices. The thing that finally put paid to my days as an occasional canteen customer, though, was this.

This was sold as a Yorkshire pudding.

I don’t know what it was made of or how it was produced. It was not a Yorkshire pudding. It neither looked nor tasted like one. And even leaving aside the hideous insult this presents to my homeland, and taking it only on the merits of it being a foodstuff someone had prepared, it was pretty much inedible. Somehow its creator had created a substance that was simultaneously chewy and inedibly hard.

Anyway, it was a little while ago now and I’m not nearly as upset as I was, but I will be referring the matter to the police all the same.

Avatar Trouble at the Winston

It’s finally happening. You know that venerable old videoconferencing system Microsoft has produced for years? You know the one that changed the world of video chat. No? The one EVERYONE used to use… right up until the point that the world went to shit and everyone needed to video call people? No not Zoom… Skype! Yes Skype, the underappreciated grand master of video calling. Well not for much longer…

As reported by ARS Technica skype is going to be put to sleep on 5th May after 21 years serving the VPC (Virtual Pub Community). Sad times.

It seems like we are going to be able to move to teams with personal accounts, which is nice, but what are we going to do without the incessant ‘tech titting’ or the random interjections of an animated prawn? I’ve tried it and I can sign in to Teams with my outlook.com account, although it hasn’t brought across any of the old chats, which the article suggested it should.

It truly will be the end of an era. How do you feel about the death of an icon (even if it is a pretty crappy one)?

Avatar Ian’s holiday snaps – #3

Do you feel like a mystery today? I think you’re looking for a mystery and I’ve got exactly what you need.

As I wandered the barren desolate wasteland of Florida, in the hopes of finding something worthy of my time (tad over dramatic, I know) I kept noticing these signs dotted around the place. I saw some on a highway as we drove to a mall one morning and there were also some lurking around the massive McDonalds.

Who keeps leaving these signs? What kind of website are they proposing? Why are there no details or pictures? Who would be insane enough to give money to a random stranger advertising on the corner of a McDonalds?

I kept imagining some sort of lummox on the other end of the phone and he would spin a wheel for every customer. Whatever the wheel would land on, that’s the website you got. You didn’t have a say in the matter and if you tried to he would send the “website boys” round for a little “chat”.

I’ll never get answers to my questions and, settling into my chair at home, thousands of miles away from website man / woman and their shady empire, I’m quite content to leave it that way.

Avatar Newsboost – Improper perfume positioned for prosperity

Shock news from across the water as a new perfume is about to hit the market with a familiar smell that may turn your stomach.

Australian nose fondling magnate, Winter de Socket, will soon be releasing a fragrance that harnesses the essence of faeces in a move which has confounded critics and befuddled just about everyone else.

“It’s all about turning that notion on its head,” said de Socket at a recent promotional event, “the idea that something is bad. Oh, you can look at something and dismiss it as uncool, pathetic or sad then ten years later that same thing is the talk of the town. Trends change. People change. Why can’t the same thing happens with smells?”

The particular type of faeces chosen for the perfume is from our four legged friend, the cow. Surely the most well known of all poo types, next to our own of course. The fact that de Winter is releasing poo perfume is quite mad, the idea of paying £200.00 for a 200ml bottle surely bordering on insanity and yet since the pre-order window opened, the website has consistently been sold out. Who exactly is buying this guff?

We turned to fashionista Melandra Melody for an insight into this madness. “You have to understand he’s been pushing these kinds of boundaries for years,” she says, “so he knows exactly what he’s doing. You smell poop and you wince away in shame. What Winter smells is the future, what he can smell is fresh money and possibly a new conservatory the size of your house. I saw him waiting tables back in Melbourne and two years later he’s the genius who decided to bottle the smell of fresh hands. Harness the power of scent and you too could be as successful as him.”

What exactly can we expect from the future then? Is going to harness the power of sick and flog it to the rich and wealthy?

“That is a distinct possibility. Stranger things have happened. This is only the first perfume in his new line so your guess is as good as mine. Whatever it is though you can guarantee it will be a hit!”

Comforting words from a world most of us will never fully understand. Will his next perfume be earwax? That weird stuff you find in your belly button? Would you pay two hundred pounds to pour essence of cadaver over your body? If you’ve got deep enough pockets then you too could smell like a hobo for the right price.

You have my condolences.

Avatar Jeans

You know what’s mad? The world of jeans, specifically women’s jeans. Sure, you could easily say the world of cheese (“let’s roll huge wheels of it down a steep hill and let people chase after them,”) or the world of imaginary policemen made of earwax are equally bizarre, and you’d be completely right. The difference though is that I can take law enforcers made of cerumen (it’s a medical term, I looked it up), what I can’t take is wandering into a supermarket and seeing rum and pineapple mixed in with my cheddar. MY cheddar. No. Stop that. None of that.

The world of jeans was so straightforward for me until a recent trip to Marks and Spencer looking for Christmas things brought forward this oddity:

“Mom ankle grazer; what the deuce is that?”

It was then casually explained to me by Vikki that women’s jeans all have these wild and crazy names. How sheltered I must have been to have not realised this sooner. Not that I go wandering around the women’s section in clothes shops (despite what the British press continue to write about me, all of them made up and, no comment, you can get one from my solicitor). I then immediately looked up more details on the M & S website.

Blimey. Was this always the case? Are men’s jeans the same? Not in the slightest. What we have is very basic: loose fit, straight fit, straight let, slim fit, blue, black, grey, tapered. Nothing remotely interesting. It’s nice that everything is so much more playful in the world of women’s jeans. Perhaps it wasn’t always the case and fifty years ago slightly muddled women formed queues around the building for dull, lifeless articles of clothing with names like ‘big’, ‘small’, ‘stocky’ and ‘no’. That said, I wouldn’t fancy wandering into a shop and asking if they have anything in Magic Shaping High Waisted Flare or a Harper Supersoft Cigarette Jeans. Throw in a few more vowels and you may as well be reading Harry Potter spells.

This means that men’s jeans need a radical overhaul and given my vast, rich experience dealing with many different lines of work, I believe I am the right person for the job. This is what I’ve been working on:

  • Stretch fit changed to Elephant Limo Garrison
  • Slim fit changed to Furious Corner Pop-up Shop
  • Straight fit changed to Nothing Flouncy Sunshine
  • Straight leg changed to Recess Chimney Warrant
  • Loose fit changed to Barnacle Profit Tax
  • Tapered changed to Wounded Poison Ranch Dressing

All it took was a little time and a little thought and now everything is so much better. You’ll thank me next time you’re walking around Asda and notice that they have a pair of Furious Corner Pop-up Shop in your size. Yes, you will.