The Whitechapel Whelk

Ripping News and Cutting Satire Since 1888

Ask Jane Austin-Morris: No-Nonsense 19th Century Relationship Counsellor


Dear Miss Austin-Morris

Pray allow me to introduce myself and to beg your counsel in a matter of the heart which I have found greatly troubling of late.

I am a gentleman of four and thirty years, high-born and with a considerable fortune. I live in an extremely agreeable, some would say sumptuous, manner in a large, well-appointed house in Hertfordshire.

However, despite all these trappings of wealth, I find myself miserable in the extreme. For you see madam, my heart no longer belongs to me. I have given it most wholeheartedly to a young woman who despises me and who shuns my presence at every turn.

She is one of five sisters, all daughters to a local businessman, a thoroughly respectable family of moderate means for whom I have the utmost affection and respect.

Elizabeth, for that is indeed the name of my dear one, is the eldest sister, a beautiful creature of somewhat haughty bearing who spurns my society at every turn despite my most ardent entreaties.

I have endeavoured to curry her admiration by assisting her whenever possible in her times of greatest need. I have even aided her youngest sister, a flighty and foolish little thing, by exposing her faithless new husband as a carousing blackguard, a feckless adventurer who will surely lead the poor creature to ruin.

My own family’s equilibrium has also been greatly disturbed due to my unfettered, and most ardent regard for this lady.

I have attracted the displeasure of my aunt, a wizened and taciturn harridan, and her daughter, a most disagreeable and unsightly creature, who both baulk greatly against my attempts to pay my suit to my beloved one.

Despite all my efforts, however, she remains cool of mien and is unmoved by my most earnest entreaties to become my wife.

I, therefore, beg of you madam, to guide me with your sound advice and bring me succour in this most distressing matter.

I fear that if I do not make her mine I shall lose all hope and seek inner peace by joining my father’s regiment and will embark to foreign shores to fight, and, if necessary, die, for my King and country.

Without her you see madam, death holds no dominion over me and if I am to be slain in battle, then let it be known that her precious name will be the last words on my lips.

I remain, madam, your most humble servant

Mr Darcy

Lakeview Towers



My Dear Mr Darcy

Have you tried swimming across a lake fully clothed before advancing towards the young lady with your cock and balls hanging out?

Your humble servant sir

Jane Austin-Morris (Miss)

Local Cat Feels Wholly Justified Following ‘Punishment Dump’ on Rug

Unrepentant: Samuel Dave pictured earlier

A 14-year-old cat from Clapham Junction in South London felt no remorse after defecating on a rug in the hallway of its owner after she had left the cat, named, Samuel-Dave, on its own due to work commitments.

Tracy Dell, a children’s nurse at Great Ormond Street Hospital in central London, told us: ‘I had to go up north for the day to attend a conference where I was scheduled to deliver a keynote lecture on infant care.

‘I left Samuel-Dave a bowl of his favourite tuna recipe food and a saucer of full-cream milk.

‘I also asked a neighbour to pop in and keep him company from time to time until my return.

‘So, I wasn’t happy to find that he’d had a massive dump on the rug in the hall while I was out.

‘It was clearly done as a punishment measure for leaving him.

‘He was standing next to it when I came in. He looked calm and assured, without a hint of regret for what he’d done.

‘I was tempted to boot him up the arse, but I was afraid it might kill him due to his age, and I didn’t want that on my conscience, what with me being in the caring profession and all.’

This incident comes just two weeks after a 12-year-old Persian cat from neighbouring Balham forced itself to vomit over the clean washing pile after its owner left the premises for two hours to go ice skating in Streatham.

Fruit Peeling With The Stars #3279

THIS WEEK: Clint Eastwood on Naval Oranges

clint fruit peeling

NEXT WEEK: The late Doris Day shares her five favourite ways to peel a Granny Smith apple using just her private parts.

Meghan Beat Kate Up In The Buckingham Palace Toilets, Says Daily Mail

The Duchess pictured trying to look all innocent after beating seven shades of shite out of Kate last week

The Daily Mail newspaper is reporting that following an altercation at Buckingham Palace shortly before The Queen’s final departure from the palace on Wednesday, Meghan Markle, The Duchess of Sussex, launched a two-fisted attack on her sister-in-law, The Duchess of Cambridge in one of the palace toilets.

The Mail claims: ‘According to one of our palace insiders, Meghan gave Kate a terrible kicking.

‘Our source thinks it was because Meghan accused Kate of giving Harry the eye at breakfast that morning and leaning forward over the platter of kedgeree, giving him a flash of her tits’

The Mail claims that Kate was left with a broken cheekbone, two black eyes and a ruptured spleen, which resulted from Meghan ‘going in with the boot’ as Kate lay unconscious on the carpet.

Critics have poured scorn on the article, however, claiming that Kate showed no signs of bruising during the procession that followed the alleged incident.

There have also been claims that The Mail has constantly harangued and persecuted Meghan due to her nationality and, above all, her mixed-race heritage.

The newspaper responded furiously and strongly refuted the allegations last night: ‘The fact that Meghan is an American is neither here nor there as far as we are concerned, nor is the fact that she’s a sooty, colonial bitch with no right to be within a country mile of our royals’

We should like to point out that this is not an attack on the skewed, right-wing stance adopted by the Daily Mail and certainly not a condemnation of the gormless, elderly fuckwits and chinless, racist thundercunts who read it – Ed


THIS WEEK: The Last Subpoena by Leonardo Da Vinci

trump the last subpoena

NEXT WEEK: Le Covefe Sur L’Herbe by Pablo Picasso

Summer Fruits-Peeling With The Stars

THIS WEEK: James Cagney on plums

james cagney meme

NEXT WEEK: Robert De Niro shares his five favourite tips on how to de-seed pomegranates while threatening yourself in the mirror with a Saturday Night Special.

Song Lyrics For Intellectuals

THIS WEEK: Poker Face – Lady GaGa




From Our Editor-In-Chief, Danny Soz

Shortly after paying my respects to Her Late Majesty at Buckingham Palace yesterday, I decided to make the short walk to Parliament Square where I took my ease on a wall next to the elderly gentleman pictured above.

As I sat in solitary contemplation of the previous day’s sad events, he spoke to me in rather gruff tones, addressing me thus:

‘Ah yes, young man. Did I ever tell you about the time when a bright-eyed young filly came to me for advice following a sudden and unexpected career change in 1952?

‘Just a slip of a gal she was and a pretty little thing too if memory serves.

‘We chatted at some length about world politics and fashion of all things.

‘She was surprisingly well versed in both matters for a young female and I have to admit I was rather impressed by the child’s vivacious intellect.

‘I don’t know what became of her mind you.

‘Probably never made much of herself and drifted into a life of frivolity and anonymity like the rest of these young scamps nowadays.

‘Do you know, I’m damned if I can remember the gal’s name!

‘Ah yes, I have it! Elizabeth something or other.’

He sighed a deep sigh, took a series of sonorous puffs on a large Cuban cigar and began to stare once more towards the gothic edifice of The Palace of Westminster.

I took this as my cue to depart, so I bade the old gent farewell and walked off towards Victoria Street.

The early Autumn rain weeping from an iron grey sky over nearby Westminster Abbey seemed to encapsulate my mood as I shouldered my way through the gathering crowd of people shuffling past The Abbey’s iron railings, no doubt en route to The Palace to say their own goodbyes to the great lady.

The Queen is dead

Long live The King!

Health Concerns Grow as Queen Set To Miss Traditional East End Dog Fight

Her Majesty flanked by Prince Charles and Princess Ann at last year’s event

Speculation regarding the health of Her Majesty The Queen was rife last night after Buckingham Palace announced that she would miss the annual dog fighting event in Poplar in East London that she has traditionally attended since her accession to the throne in 1956.

Her Majesty often enters one of her own highly-trained pedigree pitbull terriers and will even unleash the killer dogs herself at the start of some of the fights.

She also enjoys a flutter and will often stuff wads of banknotes down the shirt front of a gypsy bookie before walking round with the hat at the end, collecting bets from unlucky punters while taking swigs from a bottle of gin.

The Queen is widely acknowledged as a renowned authority on dog fighting and has bred past champions like Gnasher Prince, Battle Bitch Beth, and, Prince Philip’s own canine scrapper, Slitty-Eyed Gus.

This latest cancellation comes just two weeks after Her Majesty pulled out of her beloved annual visit to South London’s August bare-knuckle fights, traditionally held in a derelict warehouse at Deptford Creek where she loves to tuck into a crate of her favourite brown ale before cheering on her two-fisted youngest son, Prince Edward, who strips to the waist after swigging down a bottle of peach liqueur before battering his luckless opponents to a pulp, often licking the blood from their chests and faces as they lay unconscious at his feet.

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