The Whitechapel Whelk

Ripping News and Cutting Satire Since 1888



The alcohol-fuelled adventures of Stuporman: THIS WEEK: The revenge of Chunder Woman!

stuporman and chunderwoman

It was a regular Saturday night in downtown Whitechapel. The bars and pubs were packed with revellers, letting their hair down after a long week on government hand-outs.

High in his eyrie above The Marquis of Granby public house in Whitechapel High Street, the drink-addled, crime-busting superhero, Stuporman, was staggering over to the fridge to get another can of Skol Special Strength.

Suddenly, the shrill scream of a woman rent the night air, followed by a yell of alarm: “Oh blimey! It’s Chunder Woman, and she’s been drinking!”

Hearing the name of his arch nemesis, The Lush of Steel, felt every muscle in his body tense. He knew that there was no time to lose.

Racing to his Drinking Den of Solitude in the basement, the drink-ravaged stumblebum hurriedly downed eight cans of Blackout super-strength cider in readiness for the desperate clash of the alcohol-fuelled titans that he knew was about to come.

Staggering into the street and collapsing in a doorway, he heard the familiar, guttural shriek of his arch-foe throwing down a garbled challenge: “Are yoush starin’ at my pint? I’ll tek the fuckin’ lot of yersh! Yer me besht mate you are! Gissa fag!… G’wan gissa fag!… Yer fuckin’ bashta yersh!”

Raising himself unsteadily to his feet, Stuporman picked up an empty Guinness bottle from the gutter and hurled it at his foe, striking her a glancing blow on the temple.

The booze-addled harridan let out an ear-splitting bellow of pain before crashing face-first to the pavement.

Realising his work was still not over, Stuporman reeled across to the stricken body of his adversary and began rifling through her pockets, searching for the prize that he hoped would be there.

He was in luck. Belching with triumph, the super alkie pulled out a bunch of crisp, new five pound notes.

It was Chunder Woman’s Child Benefit and Incapacity Allowance payment, and, apart from a few pounds spent earlier on strong grog, it was almost intact.

Realising that every second was now of the essence and that valuable drinking time was ebbing away, Stuporman crashed through the doors of the of The Blind Beggar and flung himself at the bar.

“Ten pints of London Pride barman” he barked. “And keep ’em coming until I’ve collapsed in the bog and shit me pants”

NEXT WEEK: The Lush of Steel finds himself locked in a grim life or death struggle with the arch-alcoholic fiend, Liver Disease Man, as they battle over a part-time job emptying the slop trays in The Lord Rodney’s Head on Saturday afternoons.

Super words by Danny Soz

Tea, gin and sympathy by Sensational Sofia Dee

Ultra Super Duper graphic by Jif out of Procrastinator’s Day Off

The Alcohol-Fuelled Adventures of Stuporman! The Super-Sozzled Stumblebum of Steel

What’s that smell?! Is it a turd? Is it a drain? No!… It’s STUPORMAN!

Super sozzled storyline by Jack Daniels, Jimmy Beam, Cherry B, and Captain Morgan
Booze-addled alcoholic artwork by ‘JIF’

It was a Saturday morning like any other in downtown Whitechapel. People were thronging the market in the warm spring sunshine as the stallholders lustily called out their wares.

High above the street, in his lofty, Drinking Den of Solitude above Carpetland, Stuporman was pouring his 10th pint of Tennant’s Super of the morning. Last night had been a particularly gruelling session on the lash and he knew that he’d need to get a decent skinful under his belt before attempting the short walk to The Beggar at opening time.

Suddenly, a woman’s shrill scream pierced the air “It’s a beer lorry! It’s out of control and it’s heading this way!”

Heaving himself from the battered old sofa, The Lush of Steel staggered to the window in time to see a speeding beer delivery truck hurtle past, the driver slumped unconscious in the cab.

Stuporman realised at once that there was not a moment to lose and reeled out into the street.

Using his super dog breath, he blew the careering vehicle from its collision course with the busy market, sending it crashing harmlessly into a nearby scrap yard.

Realising the danger still hadn’t passed, and that precious drinking time was being wasted, the sozzled superhero stumbled unsteadily towards the wreckage.

Using his super strength, he heaved two huge crates of Skol Special Strength from the back of the truck and settled down next to a wrecked Vauxhall Viva to tuck in.

A small child approached him nervously as he was tearing the ring pull from his 2nd can.

“Thank you Stuporman,” said the youngster falteringly “What would we do without you?”

“Struggling to focus on the small figure, Stuporman rose unsteadily to his feet.

“Are you starin’ at my pint?” he slurred. “I’ll take the fuckin’ lot of yersh! You’re me besht mate you are!”

NEXT WEEK: The Stumblebum of Steel battles against his old arch-enemy, Chunder Woman, as they fight over a job clearing the glasses and emptying the slop trays after last orders in The Blind Beggar

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