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Police made a grisly discovery around the back of a branch of a supermarket in Whitechapel last night after a woman reported what she thought was a body lying in a loading bay.
The body of a 54-year-old man with multiple stab wounds was later removed from the scene and taken to a local morgue for forensic examination.
The woman who found the body told a Whelk reporter that she recognised the deceased as a man who had previously caused a rowdy scene in the supermarket earlier that day by leaving his trolley slewed across an aisle while he perused the shelves for purchases.
Tracy Dell, 52, said: “This bloke seemed to think it was perfectly ok to block the aisle with his trolley while he faffed about looking for stuff on the shelves.
“People were getting really cheesed off, including my husband Toby, who told him he was going to wait for him outside and give him a good clumping.
“It looks like somebody beat him to it, although I haven’t been able to tell Toby about it yet as he’s gone on holiday to The Faroe Islands.
“I wouldn’t mind but he didn’t even ask me to come. He just said he was going on a whim and to tell the police he was dead if they came round asking questions.”
This latest incident comes just two weeks after a 40-year-old Shoreditch man was decapitated with a hatchet at the checkout by an angry customer who had become fed up with waiting for the dead man to find his money-off coupons while paying at the till.
A recent study by Oxford University has found that the food writer and broadcaster, Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall, will have eaten pretty much everything on the planet – apart from buildings – by the year 2032.
Fearnley Whittingstall, presenter of the popular, River Cottage TV series, in which he takes on the role of a downshifted, self-reliant farmer with a tendency to cook and eat pretty much anything that walks, crawls or grows from the ground, has now eaten everything in the county of Dorset and has moved on to Devonshire where he has already eaten a small area of woodland and has made a start on a field of beetroot and a family of a dozen or more badgers.
Speaking to a BBC reporter last night, the public school-educated epicure said: “I’m a greedy bastard that will cook and eat anything that’s not nailed down.
“I’m also a dedicated environmentalist so I won’t eat any endangered animals or rare trees. Anything else is going straight down my greedy gullet and into my fat guts”
A spokesman for the Department of The Environment said last night: “We have been made aware of the findings, and having watched him eating some pretty unsavoury items on River Cottage from time-to-time, we’re not surprised.
“If we’re in power and it looks as if nothing will escape Mr Fearnley Whittingstall’s saucepans and Aga cooker, we’ll have him humanely killed with a poleaxe when he’s not expecting it.
“Although, if Labour are in power, those leftie bedwetters will no doubt let him carry on until there’s fuck-all left”
We tried to contact Fearnley Whittingstall for a comment last night but his wife said he was in the kitchen cooking a fox turd and toad pie and braising one of the kids in a stagnant ditchwater sauce.
Policing a teeming and vibrant city like London during a health emergency can be a challenging, and sometimes, a dangerous business.
Take last Saturday evening for example. The lads from my unit, along with myself, were relaxing in the canteen before going out on patrol in the West End to look for people flouting the lockdown regulations.
We then got a shout from upstairs that a bunch of anti-lockdown nutters had gathered outside St Thomas’ Hospital in Lambeth where they were giving a load of grief to the doctors and nurses coming off shift after a tough day on the covid wards.
We immediately deployed to the scene and laid into the protestors with our batons, leaving many of them unconscious on the deck.
We threw a few of these into the Thames to bring them round before setting off back to the wagons.
At this point, I realised I’d worked up a bit of a thirst, so I told the lads I’d see them back at the nick and broke into nearby Lambeth Palace where I got stuck into the Bishop of London’s booze cabinet until I spewed my ring up into the font and collapsed to the deck in a pool of my own piss and sick.
PC Ted is the vice-chancellor of the Severe Liver Damage and Projectile Vomiting Association
According to reports, millions of women across the country are already preparing to turn very nasty while preparing the Christmas dinner.
It is estimated that at least 18 million British women will hurl abuse at their husbands or partners during the preparation of Christmas dinner, mostly for minor offences such as trying to get a drink of water when they want to drain the sprouts at the sink, or for standing in the doorway, meekly offering to make the gravy.
Last year, more than 6 million men visited the A&E department of their local hospital, with injuries ranging from carving knife wounds, to head injuries caused by being struck with a saucepan after offering to give the bread sauce a stir.
One man, Toby Dell, 47, from Whitechapel in East London, lost his life when his wife ran him through with a meat skewer, snatched from his hand as he tried to use it to see if the bird was thoroughly cooked through after she had taken it from the oven for basting.
His wife, Tracy Dell, 40, later stood trial for his murder at the Old Bailey last June, but was acquitted and awarded £500 from the public purse by Justice Hermione Boyce-Fotheringham after the court was told, that just seconds earlier, the deceased had brazenly asked her if she wanted a glass of Harvey’s Bristol Cream while she was in the middle of turning the roast potatoes.
This year, the government are advising all males to keep a safe distance from the kitchen while their partners prepare the Christmas dinner.
However, they are also warning men not to use this as an excuse to go to the pub. In 2016, just over 5 million men were admitted to hospital with severe gravy burns after they arrived back a few minutes late and had their dinner plate tipped over their head.
From our currant affairs correspondent
With only days to go before the Brexit deadline and with both negotiating teams locked in a seemingly hopeless impasse, EU chief negotiator, Michel Barnier, has now reached an agreement with his British counterparts that a final settlement will be reached via a Great British Bake-Off-style competition to decide the winner.
Speaking at a hastily convened press conference last night, Barnier said: “I’m quietly confident that we can out-bake the British and establish firm guidelines on fishing rights and also the Irish border issue that will favour the EU’s position.
“After all, we French are known for our culinary skills, whereas the Brits can barely make a boiled egg with soldiers.
“I mean to say they’ll probably make a fish and chips cake or something equally representative of their vile cuisine for their showstopper and get the piss taken out of them by the judges”
It is understood, that if the judges are unable to separate the two teams, the final deal will be reached via a cream flan-throwing, free-for-all in Parliament Square in the final hour before the December 31st deadline – Reuters
Mama June Boo Boo was born in Barnsley in Yorkshire at a very young age.
She weighed just six ounces at birth, but quickly piled on the pounds, tipping the scales at an astonishing thirty-seven stone four pounds just hours later after eating sixteen Krispy Kreme donuts washed down with twelve pints of heavy in the hospital canteen.
She recounts that her early years in Yorkshire were the happiest days of her life and that she often earned in excess of fifteen pounds a week as a coalminer and part-time county executioner.
In 1980, Mama met and married a slave boss from Montgomery Alabama who was on holiday in nearby Skegness.
She subsequently moved to the USA where she gave birth to eighteen illiterate children in six months, including her world famous daughter, Honey Boo Boo, who became a deep-sea trawler skipper and governor of the state pen at the age of three.
In 2004, Mama had ballooned to a colossal ninety-five stone but shed the pounds rapidly after being almost fatally harpooned while on holiday in Tampa
She now tips the scales at a healthy eighty-five stone and thirteen pounds and was recently voted Poorly-Educated Slimmer Of The Month by the Manchester Guardian.
She is currently much sought after as a model and after dinner speaker with a fanbase right across the world, including defeated US President Donald Trump, who once tweeted that she was, ‘a fine-looking woman who has been a bigly influence on my life. So fine, so fine. Tremendous’
She has now retired from public life and lives quietly on an urban farm in Mudchute in East London, where she can often be seen giving children rides on her back in the school holidays and engaging in late-night heavy petting sessions with local shopkeepers of both sexes.
From our showbiz and inbreeding correspondent
Each commemorative mug is lovingly crafted by Bangladeshi slave kids who work 18-hours a day to perfect their craft.
Made from 100% pottery, these exquisite tea mugs can hold almost a third of a pint of your favourite brew.
Just don’t use boiling water or all bets are off breakage-wise.
So celebrate the special bond between these two wonderful human beings and raise a cheery mugful of Darjeeling to their time spent together roaring up underage children on a desert island.
Each mug normally retails at two hundred pounds each, but if you take advantage of our special Autumn offer, we’ll give you two for four hundred pounds without anything else thrown in free!
Send your cash money or bankers draft to:
The Whitechapel Mint, C/O The Blind Beggar Public House, Whitechapel E1
DISCLAIMER: I’m a thick-as-shit royalist who will buy anything if it’s got a member of the royal family’s dial on it. I fully understand that I may not receive a mug nor anything else for my money, and that if I complain I stand more than a 50/50 chance of getting a really good clumping down a dark alley or in the comfort of my own home.
Pic by ‘Inchcock’ ©
I’m a 25-year-old recently married woman. However, I suspect my husband is cheating on me with a local dominatrix.
He constantly rejects me in bed and I’ve recently noticed a number of livid weals on his back that look as if they’ve been caused by a whip of some description.
My suspicions were aroused the other day when I found a business card in his trouser pocket advertising the services of a woman in a leather catsuit calling herself Annabelle Anguish.
He has also converted the garden shed into a makeshift dungeon and spends hours in there, hanging upside down lashed to a cross.
I’ve tried talking to him about saving our marriage but I can’t understand his replies as his voice is indistinct through his PVC gimp mask and ball-gag.
Please help if you can Danny as I still love him despite the fact that he’s become a weapons-grade sicko whose disgusting practices make me want to throw up.
Try making him one of my speciality bread and butter puddings – the recipe can be found on my website – then, while he’s tucking into the delicious dessert, force a spiked rolling pin into his bottom until you can no longer see the handle.
If that doesn’t put him off the sado-masochistic lifestyle then I don’t know what will.
Danny Dumplings is the acting vice-chairman of The East London Grievous Bodily Gourmet Association