I’ll Set Up Refugee Camp For Gazans On My Huge Botoxed Forehead, Says Simon Cowell

Cowell pictured at his bungalow in Eastbourne last night

Pop entrepreneur and Britain’s Got Talent panellist, Simon Cowell, has announced that he has been so affected by the plight of the beleaguered civilian population in war-torn Gaza he is going to set up a refugee camp on his massive, botoxed forehead in a bid to alleviate their suffering.

Cowell, 95, told newsmen: ‘Along with everybody else with an ounce of decency, I’m sickened by the genocidal actions of the Israeli government against the civilians in Gaza and I intend to set up a camp on my gigantic, spam forehead that will hopefully provide shelter for many stricken families.’

It is estimated that well in excess of twenty thousand people will fit comfortably on Cowell’s spam. They will then be fed and watered by around 500 aid trucks which will be loaded with provisions from inside his ridiculous, high-waisted, clown trousers.

Man Who Stood Up As Soon As Plane Landed, Quite Rightly Pummelled Back Into Seat

A male passenger on an Easyjet flight to Gran Canaria last week was treated in hospital for facial injuries after a fellow traveller justifiably launched a flurry of blows at the man who had risen from his seat as soon as the aircraft had landed and begun its taxi to the airport terminal in a bid to be the first to disembark.

His assailant, Toby Dell, from Whitechapel in East London, was cheered loudly by fellow passengers as he hammered the man back into his seat with a series of powerful blows before quite rightly berating him as a ‘thick twat’ and a ‘know-nothing ponce’

Speaking to us from his hotel on the island, Dell, 54, said: ‘I hate these deluded fuckers who think that by standing up as soon as the bloody plane touches down and getting their poxy bags out of the overhead lockers they are going to get to their accommodation quicker than anyone else.

‘Haven’t they heard of baggage reclaim carousels, queuing at passport control, or waiting for shuttlebus transport in the airport car park?

‘If I had my way, I would hang the lot of them from lamposts and hang them high’

An Easyjet spokesman told us: ‘We applaud Mr Dell’s prompt actions in this instance and will be offering him a free flight back to London in Business Class with booze and canapes thrown in.

‘These idiots who jump up as soon as we land are gormless fucknuts of the highest order and if people like Mr Dell wish to hammer them from arseole to Saturday then we say, more power to them’

This incident mirrors an altercation on a British Airways flight from London City Airport to Faro in Portugal last month when a passenger who began shouting excitedly at a friend seated across the aisle, pointing out that the plane had begun its descent, was dragged from his seat by an irate fellow traveller who, quite rightly, knocked the man unconscious before jamming his head under his seat.

Comrades!: An Everyday Story of Heroic Soviet Folk

MoNdAy

The temperature dipped a bit today. When we thawed out the thermometer it read -35.C. Heroic Comrade Cat is missing. We await his glorious return.

“Winter draws on” said Comrade Wife. – I thought that she’d put them on at the start of November! Still, we have a roaring bar on the electric fire and plenty of electricity to power it thanks to our glorious state energy produc…

WE THRUST THE BANNER OF FREEDOM INTO THE TESTICLES OF OUR CRAVEN ENEMIES WHO FLEE BEFORE US LIKE CARRION CROWS!!!

TuESdAY

Comrade Wife has injured herself by slipping on a frozen cow-pat at the collective farm and will be off work for 2 weeks. The doctor has told her to take things easy. I have thoughtfully advised her to take her wheeled shopping trolley with her when she sets off on the ten-kilometre journey through the snow to get my vodka from the market in Voldosgrad. It was touching to see the tears of gratitude well up in her eyes. Still no sign of heroic, Comrade Cat

OUR WOMENFOLK LAUGH AT THE PAMPERED WESTERN TROLLOPS WITH THEIR DECADENT, LABOUR-SAVING, TESCO ‘BUY-ONLINE’ HOME DELIVERY

WedNEsDaY

Had a nice quiet night in with Comrade Wife last night. We settled down in front of the TV to watch a heroic, 2-hour display of Cossack dancing by the 731st Infantry Regiment, followed by, ‘Denounce Your Traitorous Neighbour,’ hosted by ‘Cheeky’ Colonel Boranavich from the 21st Moscow NKVD death squad. How the poor downtrodden workers of The West must envy our cultural superiority. Have sent Children #3 and #7 out into snow to search for Comrade Cat

OUR GLORIOUS PIANO ACCORDIANS BRING JOY AND SUCCOUR TO THE WORLD!

ThURsDaY

Spectacular display of the Northern Lights last night. We were totally spell-bound as we looked out of the hole in the wall where the window used to be; marvelling at the coloured beams of light swirling in every direction. How foolish we felt when, this morning, Mr Danolski from downstairs told us that it was actually the local nuclear power station going into melt-down. Comrade wife and myself seem to have developed a slight rash. Still no sign of Children #3 and #7 or Comrade Cat.

WE JOYOUSLY VIOLATE THE SOFT UNDERBELLY OF THE IMPERIALIST JACKALS!

FrIdAy

Joyous news comrades! Heroic Comrade Cat has returned!. All of the family are delighted to see him as we’ve been worried for weeks. There will be special celebratory roast dinner tonight as he has brought a mouse back with him. Have sent Children #2 and #9 out to search for heroic siblings.

RAISE YOUR VOICES IN EXULTATION COMRADES AS WE MARCH ON TO A GLORIOUS NEW DAWN OVER THE TWITCHING BODIES OF OUR IMPERIALIST FOES!

SaTuRdAy

Beetroot gruel supply now dangerously low. Comrade Cat has gone missing again.

“Comrades” was devised and written circa 2010 on a tight budget by decadent plutocrat and Whelk editor, Danny SoZ, and Western imperialist hyena, Gary Moore.

Local Sex Offender Sentenced to Spend Six Months as a Serving Metropolitan Police Officer

A 47-year-old Whitechapel man who has been convicted of a number of sex offences over the last twenty years has been ordered by a judge to spend six months as a sergeant in the Metropolitan Police.

Robert Desmond, a market trader from Leman Street, appeared in court yesterday, charged with gross indecency after being caught exposing himself to a woman out jogging in Victoria Park.

Desmond, divorced, has already served a number of prison terms for offences, ranging from voyeurism and indecent exposure to masturbating into his food at a local Indian restaurant.

Judge Tobias Dell, told Desmond: ‘Imprisonment seems to have little or no effect when it comes to curbing your offending behaviour.

‘I am, therefore, sentencing you to serve six months as a Metropolitan Police officer where your predilections will no doubt find favour amongst your like-minded colleagues and your unsavoury activities can be kept firmly under wraps by your superior officers in time-honoured fashion.

Judge Dell then stipulated that there would be no prospect of early release in Desmond’s case, but that if his offending continues or escalates to a more serious level, his term could be extended to a longer spell in the Met as a senior officer, up to and including Chief Commissioner.

This latest case comes two months after a man from neighbouring Stepney, convicted of wounding and conspiracy to rob along with various drugs and firearms offences, was told he must serve at least ten years as the Deputy Commander of Scotland Yard’s Flying Squad.

Impudent Local Woman Took It Upon Herself to Move TV Remote Control

A 33-year-old Whitechapel woman has reportedly had the bare-faced effrontery to move the television remote control from the arm of her husband’s armchair to a purpose-designed remote control holder on a nearby coffee table without having first sought permission to do so.

Tracy Dell, a housewife from Leman Street, quite brazenly moved the device last Tuesday, causing her husband, Toby, a great deal of consternation, which resulted in him shouting upstairs to ask what the hell she’d done with it.

Mr Dell, 43, a forklift truck engineer, told The Whelk: ‘At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I spotted that the remote was no longer on the arm of my chair.

‘Initially, I thought it might have been knocked to the floor by my wife while hoovering, which would have been bad enough in itself, but then she quite shamelessly informed me that she’d deliberately moved it without so much as a by-your-leave.

‘I don’t mind admitting I was both shocked and disgusted in equal measure.

‘Of course, she tried to brazen it out by bleating on about having put it in its rightful place in its holder, but I was having none of it.

‘I called it out as a deliberate, bare-faced mischievous act, designed to undermine my authority as head of the household, and yet another consequence of this wretched #MeToo movement.

‘I really took her to task and made my feelings clear in no uncertain terms, but instead of apologising for her outrageous behaviour, she flew into a rage and struck me on the head with a wooden rod she uses for unhooking the lounge curtains.

‘I told her straight, that if that was the way she wanted to behave within our marriage, then I wanted no further part in it’

Mr Dell has asked that part of his fee for this interview be donated to The Poplar And District Distressed Mariners’ Mission where he has been living for the last week.

‘Feral’ Pack of Dogwalkers Savage Pitbull Terrier

At risk. A vulnerable pitbull terrier pictured yesterday

A 3-year-old American pitbull terrier was on the brink of death last night following a vicious attack by a pack of around eight, mainly female dogwalkers, in a park in East London.

The walkers had broken free from their canine charges before forming into what was described by an onlooker as ‘a feral, out-of-control pack.’

The dog concerned, Samson, believed to be from a home in Whitechapel, had stopped beside the lake in Victoria Park in Bow for a lie-down in the sunshine when the dogwalkers set upon the defenceless creature, causing horrendous injuries which required surgical treatment at a local veterinary practice.

A young woman who witnessed the brutal attack told us: ‘They were crazed with bloodlust. They repeatedly punched and kicked the poor dog and only stopped after a couple of young men bravely stepped in and started dragging them off one by one, despite the fact that the walkers were snapping at them with bared teeth and whipping them with their extendable dog leads’

A Home Office spokesman described the attack as ‘regrettable and unacceptable’ and gave assurances that legislation will be toughened and stricter controls introduced via the existing Dangerous Dog Walkers Act.

A Kennel Club spokesman went further and called for any walkers spotted in public without a dog to be ensnared prior to being humanely destroyed.

Local Man Found Dead After Suggesting Tweak to Wife’s Boxing Day Food Plan

A 54-year-old man was found bludgeoned to death at his home in Dock Street, Whitechapel, following a frenzied attack by his wife who had become enraged by a menu suggestion he had made regarding the traditional, family Boxing Day cold buffet.

Toby Dell, a forklift truck engineer, suffered severe head trauma, believed to have been caused by multiple blows from a wooden rolling pin after he suggested that baked potatoes could perhaps be added to the options on offer as well as the usual mashed potatoes in a huge china tureen.

After being arrested and charged with murder, his wife, Tracy, 49, told police that his suggestion had pushed her over the edge at a stressful time.

However, she allegedly showed little remorse as she was led away, telling arresting officers that her husband was, ‘a selfish, unfeeling scumbag that deserved to die’.

This incident comes a week after a man from neighbouring Poplar was hacked to death with a meat cleaver by his wife after asking her if she was going to bake the Xmas Day potatoes in the air fryer using goose fat as suggested by TV chef, Jamie Oliver, on his show, Jamie’s Culinary Christmas Crackers.

A Song For Christmas

The following is a true account of an evening I spent in a small bedsit room in the Alfama district of Lisbon, Portugal in 1974.

December had thrown its chill cloak over Lisbon, the nights had turned towards Christmas, bone-cold, silent and dripping with pendulous stars.

I finished dinner around 8.00, and as I slumped into an armchair, my limbs heavy with food and my head thick with red wine, there came a soft knocking at the door.

I opened it and was confronted by five or six small tousle-haired urchins aged around six or seven.

Their leader was a cherubic Moreno boy. His hair tight with curls and as black as coal tar, framing a face that seemed to move like water in the light of the lantern he held.

He bade me, ‘Boa noite senhor. Feliz Natal’.

He then gravely issued a few hushed instructions to his companions.

After some preliminary shuffling and nudging, they began to sing with diamond-clear voices that seemed to slice through the chill night air. Sharp, falsetto and unutterably beautiful.

They sang of a child born in a stable. Of a star hanging in the night sky, of The Virgin and the lowing of the beasts that stood over the infant.

And, as I watched and listened, it felt for all the world as if the tidings they were bringing were new, the joy still fresh.

A small girl, pretty and delicate as a porcelain doll, took up a solo and sang in a voice so clear and pitched so high that one felt stripped and shriven of all sin.

As she sang, the others watched her with solemn eyes, lips pursed, ready to enter the chorus. Their heads appeared disembodied, floating in the night air like Botticelli spirits.

And looking at this ragged little bunch, I believed all that they told me. For they were bone-thin with eyes that swam with disease and knew what it was to sleep on beds of straw.

After giving them what few coins I had and some thick slices of bread and jam, I closed the door and returned to my armchair.

I sat motionless for some time, listening to the chatter of passers-by in the street below, staring thoughtfully through the bare window at the quartered Iberian moon pinned against the black night sky.

Feliz Natal, os meus amigos!

Apologies for posting this again, folks, It’s just that my wife insists on it as it reminds her of happier times when I was out of the country.

God bless us, everyone. – Ed

Rees-Mogg Set To Continue Annual Struggle to Loosen Lid on Xmas Picallili

Conservative backbench MP, Jacob Rees-Mogg, has told friends that he is going to redouble his annual efforts to loosen the lid on a jar of Pan Yan mustard pickle despite having failed to do so every Christmas since 1987.

The former Leader Of The House has confided that he has been undergoing a strength-training program with a view to finally completing a task that has thwarted his best efforts since Margaret Thatcher was in Downing Street.

Following his initial vain attempt in ’87, the Old Etonian’s struggles were reportedly met with a fair amount of good-natured derision by family and friends seated around the Boxing Day table at Rees-Mogg’s Somerset home.

Amongst other jibes, he was branded, a ‘weed’ and a ‘socialist girly that couldn’t knock the skin off a rice pudding’

Eventually, a totally spent and heavily sweating Rees-Mogg claimed that the lid was ‘cross-threaded’ and that, ‘The machine must have put it on wrong’ before angrily storming from the room.

According to sources, he has made vain, clandestine attempts to loosen the lid during night-time visits to the kitchen every Christmas for the last thirty-four years.

During this time he has used a number of gambits, including, soaking the jar in easing oil, clamping the lid in a bench vice before twisting the body of the jar wrapped in a tea towel, deploying a Mole Wrench, and tapping around the edges of the lid with a pair of antique brass nutcrackers.

However, his wife, Helena, told a Sunday Times journalist in a 2015 interview that he has actually been trying to turn it the wrong way the entire time but has sullenly refused to accept the fact, claiming that he has been opening jars of tasty delicacies and sweetmeats since his time attending midnight feasts at prep school and that people ‘should jolly well mind their own business’.

In 2019, Rees-Mogg famously had to ask Her Majesty The Queen to open the door to let him out of a hospitality room at Balmoral after he was unable to turn a heavy brass door knob following his now notorious visit when he lied to her about the legality of the prorogation of Parliament.

After the incident, he was met with catcalls and howls of derision from the Labour benches in a raucous parliamentary session, during which he claimed that he ‘must have already loosened it for her’.