Teen Decides King’s Speech Optimum Window For Xmas Day Masturbation Break

A 16-year-old boy from Whitechapel in East London has told The Whelk that he considers the ten-minute window during The King’s televised Christmas Day speech as the optimum time to slip out of the room to masturbate

Tobias Dell, a student from Brewer Street, told us: ‘Christmas Day is always a tricky one when it comes to knocking one out without people noticing.

‘The house is generally packed with relatives who tend to notice if you’ve left the room for any length of time, especially the old ones who seem to watch you like a hawk.

‘So, after a bit of thought I’ve decided that I’ll nip upstairs during the King’s Speech when everyone will be glued to the telly as it’s only his second one since he stopped being Prince Charles.

‘Ten minutes should give me plenty of time to clear the tubes, especially if Titanic’s been on the telly again and I’ve had a good butcher’s at Kate Winslet’s jubblies’

Tobias then confided that he’s hoping to avoid the embarrassment of last Christmas when he re-entered the room after a clandestine custard-blowing session during a Morecombe & Wise Xmas Special only for his nan to start laughing and pointing when she spotted flecks of dried spadge on the waistband of his jog bottoms.

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 was a soft knocking at the door.

I opened it and was confronted by five or six, small tousle-haired urchins, aged around 6 or 7.

Their leader was a cherubic Moreno boy, his hair tight with curls, black as pitch, 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’ then gave 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 hot rancid breath of the beasts that stood over the infant.

As I watched and listened, it felt to me as if the tidings they were bringing were new, the joy still fresh.

A tiny, doll-like girl, 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 seemed 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.

Whitechapel kids to be forced to run around outside with new devices on Xmas morning

Whitechapel children pictured queuing outside PC World last night

In a bid to resurrect the Christmas tradition of yesteryear, when hordes of excited youngsters would be seen in the streets, early on Christmas morning, excitedly riding gleaming new bicycles or operating battery-controlled cars etc, the London Borough of Tower Hamlets has ordered all children under the age of 13 to run around outside, configuring and then deploying their new electronic devices, whether it be a smartphone, a tablet or a small laptop.

A spokesman for the council told BBC London Tonight: “We all miss seeing the excited faces of kids trying out their new gifts on Christmas morning whether it be a new bike or a gleaming set of roller skates.

“Sadly, with the advent of electronic devices, this has become largely a thing of the past as youngsters these days unwrap their new phone or tablet and then disappear into their bedrooms for days on end, emerging from time to time to pick at their food before returning to their rooms once more.

“We have therefore decided to force any child in receipt of an electronic device to run around the streets, doing their texting, Facetiming, or gaming until they are called in for their Christmas dinner when all devices will be confiscated until they’ve wolfed down the last morsel of Christmas pudding with brandy butter or similar.”

We spoke to a number of youngsters in the Whitechapel area who expressed dismay at the ruling, including young Toby Dell III, aged ten, who told us: “This ruling is an absolute joke.

“For one thing, it will be really cold outside, and for another, the local gang members will steal our phones and use them to organise drug deals before throwing them into the Thames”

In other related news, the South London district of Bermondsey has called upon locals to recreate the much-loved, bygone Yuletide practice of violent brawling with knives and life-preservers between family members as the drink once again starts flowing after the post-Xmas dinner nap.

British Women Preparing To Turn Nasty On Xmas Day

A British woman looks resentful as her husband breathes in and out as she’s about to baste the bird

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.

A Very Merry Christmas to Both Our Readers!

Have a good one everybody. Try not to over-indulge too much and don’t pay too much attention to The Queen’s Speech. I saw a clip last night and I’m pretty certain she’d been drinking. – God bless help us, everyone! -Ed

Yuletide Songs For Intellectuals

THIS WEEK: Do They Know It’s Christmas – Band-Aid.

ALTOGETHER NOW!…

No bum notes were hit by any of the artists during the recording of this meme…apart from Francis Rossi out of Status Quo who was as pissed as a parrot as usual – Ed

 

Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen creates really shit winter wonderland again

Interior design guru, Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen, has repeated his absolutely appalling ‘Santa’s Winter Wonderland’ spectacular of 2012 with another equally inept ‘extravaganza’ this Xmas

Hundreds of children were left crying with disappointment alongside angry, disgruntled parents after they visited Bowen’s, ‘Bumper Xmas Wonderland’ on wasteground in Spitalfields in East London last week, only to be greeted with ‘reindeer’ who were just dogs with bits of stick sellotaped to their heads, polystyrene ‘snow’ sparsely scattered over thick mud, and a ‘Santa’s Magic Grotto’ containing a bearded vagrant in a red jacket lying in a pool of shit and piss.

Bowen, 87, angrily defended his efforts last night: “What do these fuckers want for two hundred and fifty quid?” he told newsmen from outside his luxury home in London’s Belgravia.

ARTS GRATIA ARSEHATS

For those unfamiliar with the British political scene and the current Brexit machinations that are making us all slump face down into the soup course, Rees-Mogg is a privileged, feeble-minded, Old Etonian twat and backbench Conservative MP who used to stand for the National Anthem when he was alone in his study at school, and is still living in the Britain of Admiral Lord Nelson and The Duke of Wellington, and who ardently believes it will be in the countries best interests to crash out of the Brexit negotiations with absolutely no deal on the table, despite being warned against it by the Governor of The Bank of England (whom he attacked yesterday for having the temerity to be a Canadian), and also Her Majesty’s Treasury, who reported that a no-deal Brexit would be ‘catastrophic’ and somewhat akin to throwing ourselves from The White Cliffs of Dover into a sea, boiling with hungry piranhas and female Great White Sharks suffering from acute pre-menstrual tension.

In short, this fool is an industrial strength, mewling pencil with blancmange for brains. Think Donald Trump in a top hat and tails.

Merry Christmas – Ed

PS: Many thanks to our fragrant and long-suffering graphics editor, Sofia, who toiled long and hard to make my own pathetic mock-up look a lot more presentable. Thank you, my lovely.

Danny Sparko: Whitechapel Heavyweight Consumer Champion

Dear Danny

I’m a single mum with 3 children aged 3, 4, and 6. As a special Christmas treat, I thought I’d take them to a local Winter Wonderland so that they could see Santa and generally enjoy the magic of Christmas

However, when we got there, the place was in a terrible state. All the fake snow had blown away, leaving the ground like a muddy quagmire. The reindeer were just large dogs with bits of twig glued to their heads, and, to make matters worse, when I took the little ones into Santa’s grotto he was lying on the floor drunk with his trousers around his ankles. He barely acknowledged the kids, and when he did speak, he called them his best mates and asked for drink and cigarettes before becoming aggressive and threatening to take the lot of them.

I tried to get my money back, but the manager was very rude and told me to clear off and to stop moaning.

Please help if you can, Danny, as I’m on income support and can ill-afford to throw money away like this.

Thank you, Danny,

Tracy Dell

Leman Street E1

**************************

Dear Tracy

I went round to the manager’s house last night and gave him a solid right uppercut to the jaw. I then went downstairs and worked his lower body with a few powerful shots using both left and right hooks.

This seemed to sicken him big style, so, as he doubled up under the big bombs, I landed a couple of blinding right crosses to his jaw before putting his lights out with a real peach of a roundhouse left-hander to the temple

Just to get the job properly squared away, I went in with the boot, giving him a few quality toe-enders to the solar plexus. I then turned him over and stamped on his kidneys a few times before pulling out a Stanley blade and giving him a few stripes on both cheeks of his arse as a little souvenir present.

I then stole his wallet and bagged up a few valuables from his house to flog down the market on my secondhand goods stall.

Just for good measure, I stamped on his face on the way out, giving him the 5-millimetre tread, the liberty taking mug!

I’m enclosing a full refund of your expenditure, sweetheart, plus a couple of hundred smackers to buy something nice for yourself and the little saucepan lids for Christmas

Have a blinding Christmas, princess, and give the chavvies a big hug from their Uncle Danny, ok?

All the best, my lovely, and a very Merry Christmas to you and yours.

Your Pal

Danny x

Danny Sparko is Vice Chairman of the Grievous Bodily Awareness Society