Nyns eus goon heb lagas, na ke heb scovarn

There is no down without an eye, nor hedge without an ear


Report by Fashion Editor "Free trade"
Pope Benedict XVI
, who has acquired a reputation for being no slouch in the fashion stakes, has come out boldly to declare that pink is to be THE colour this year.

Pictured on the left at a Church fashion gathering near Rome, when he knew that there would be plenty of photographers present, the Pope -- and his retinue -- made a bold commitment to the colour pink as the preferred colour of the year. Later cornered by a Roundup reporter, the Pope, who is from Bavaria in Southern Germany, offered the following views, "Hello, it is vunderful for me zis opportunity to have, my opinions on ze fashions for zis year to giff. Your readers may not know zat I zis little pink get-up from Dorossy Perkins in Penzance bought haff. It makes no secret of ze fact zat I zis year my full backing to ze colour pink am giving."

The Pope was then whisked away to the TV studios in Milan, where he is a judge in the Italian version of The X Factor.


Be lonely no longer -- your new love may be here!

Jennifer Treglown (41) works as an Assistant Chemist at the Square in St Just. She is President of the West Penwith women's pipe-smoking club and is a keen advocate of the merits of St Bruno flake. Divorced and with no children, she describes herself as having "no clutter" and is keen to take up with any decent pipe-smoking St Just man between the age of 40 and 42.

Not revealed in this head photo is the fact that Jennifer is an amputee, having unfortunately set fire to her left leg with her pipe when she fell asleep one evening after getting seriously drunk after her 14th birthday. This has made her abstain from all alcohol ever since and she will only contemplate a teetotal pipe-smoker as a future partner. For those with a particular interest in the matter (and they do exist!), it is the left leg which is missing. Box No 3045

Denzil Trevains (28) of Tremethick Cross is a tractor driver on a marijuana farm at Drift near Penzance. Denzil is a member of the Crows an Wra Wild West Society, which stages battles between cowboys and Native Americans set in American frontier days. In these otherwise faithful reconstructions of encounters of yesteryear, Denzil likes to pretend that his tractor is an early tank, which he uses to mow down the "injuns".

Denzil's previous girlfriend of 8 years was jailed last week for 18 years after being found guilty of killing her parents and all 965 of their chickens with a scythe in a mad drug-fuelled nightmare. Out cold for a 36-hour period following a drugs bash, Denzil was found not guilty of being associated with the murders. He is now seeking to rebuild his life and would like to meet a brave young woman to help him do so. Box 4591

Adelheid Kenidjack (26), pictured, as her sect dictates, on a toilet clutching an umbrella, is a "completist" and wishes to marry another follower of the sect. Completists believe that all bodily products must be retained and never thrown away. Thus her parents have, lovingly, kept every nail clipping, every cutting of hair and, naturally, the product of every single loo visitation ever since this young lovely was born. This amounts to three petrol tankers' worth so far.

Adelheid works as a children's nurse in Pendeen and wishes to live no further away than Botallack or, at most, Zennor. Until now, Adelheid has only experienced a close relationship with Zorro, her golden retriever, but she is now ready to meet a man. (We must stress only another "completist" can be considered.) Box 2841, if this is you!

Tamsin Penriddick (22), pictured here, unusually for her, in a bar, describes herself as a shy retiring girl with little experience of relationships. She explains, "I once shagged 40 blokes in one evening to win a bet but, since then, I only usually do no more than 5 in one evening".

A Goldsithney girl looking for a lasting relationship of the soul, she writes poetry in ancient Greek to amuse herself and would like to meet a man who has a similar adulation for the works of Homer. In the world of music, she has no greater hero than Liszt and fantasizes about just how big his hands must have been to comfortably cover the notes demanded in his music. She works as a dental nurse, has a pet monkey called "Torfo", and her favourite drink is Pina Colada. Interested? Box 5639

Terry "Baby" Kenidjack (31) is one of the new brand of themed plumbers now working in the West Penwith Area. Last year, he styled himself as "Troubadour Terry" and went about his plumbing singing medieval airs, taking Walther von der Vogelweide as his particular favourite.

This year he has decided to style himself as "Baby Terry". He explains that this is a necessary change. Last year, he concentrated so much on getting his Middle High German correct that he made the occasional slip-up in his plumbing. In his new persona, he merely makes baby-like gurgles and and bubbling noises, with the occasional rear liquid explosion for purposes of authenticity. He stays "in character" for 24 hours a day and so is looking for a special woman to share his life. Box 5782


Take a good look, for you will never see the like of this car again!

It is the brand-new hand-built Trevaskis Landshark 505 and it can be yours simply by answering 10 little questions correctly. The first correctly completed entry form* received at Trevaskis stores will win the entrant ownership of this desirable one-off!!

Designed by style-gurus lured from the famous Italian Lamborgini camp as well as from avant-garde auto-designers Nankervis of Polnarren, this automotive wonder should tick everyone’s boxes. Whilst conceived as an executive car to speed the likes of RC Oates or Trevaskis himself along the roads of Cornwall accompanied by some curvaceous Cornish cutie called Ann or Diane, at a phenomenal additional cost two passenger seats have been added at the back. The car is made from 100% recyclable and recycled materials.

It is equipped with the latest Naff Sat and includes a radio permanently tuned to BBC Radio Cornwall. Its eco-conscious designers have equipped it with a half litre engine, but so sophisticated is the engineering that, after running flat out for 30 minutes (downhill) it cam achieve an amazing speed of 17 and half miles per hour!!

This car was conceived as -- and is -- the purest girlbait!!

It can be yours, just by answering the following questions AND FILLING IN THE ANSWERS ON THE APPROPRIATE FORM*** ONLY OBTAINABLE FROM TREVASKIS STORES :

  1. What is the name of this car?
  2. What is its maximum downhill speed?
  3. What colour is it?
  4. Which Cornish multi-mega-billionnaire, whose name features in the title, is behind this amazing Cornish concept car?
  5. From which Italian automotive group were style gurus poached?
  6. From which Cornish automotive group were style gurus poached?
  7. Give one likely name of the curvaceous Cornish cutie who would be a passenger in this car.
  8. Give another likely name of a curvaceous Cornish cutie passenger.
  9. To which radio station is the car’s radio permanently tuned?
  10. Name the satellite navigation aid with which the car is equipped.
The Answer Form must be accompanied by an essay of not less than 50,000 words with the title "I deserve to get my hands on the Landshark because..."

*** Answer Forms will only be issued to people who have spent £24,000 in Trevaskis stores during the past week or who have paid the £24,000 entry fee (a percentage of which might be paid towards a charity, the Society for Beached Landsharks).


A report written in the third person by "Landshark" (Archilaus Tresidder)

Archilaus is pictured on the left in triumphant mood on the morning after his big scoop.

The night was very dark. He could hear the sea gently lapping at the pebbles of the beach, but he could see nothing. He was acting on information received. The contacts of the foreign newsdesk of the Relubbus Roundup had never yet failed. They had always been impeccable. However, this particular tip did seem unlikely. The words ran through his mind again for the umpteenth time, "He will alight from a rowing boat on Newlyn beach at 11.30 pm on the 24th December".

Archilaus Tresidder was a junior cub under-reporter, a young man of only 44 who had yet to truly prove himself. Out of deference to his elders and betters at the Roundup, he insisted on continuing to wear short trousers until he had delivered his own very first big story single-handed, and after tonight, with luck and a following wind (he never had any difficulty managing that bit himself), he should be in a position to file that first big story.

Given the date and the time of day, there was no one about. Behind him, a short distance away, the Penzance-Newlyn road was still lit by streetlamps, which glowed dimly, a weak source of warmth on a cold night like tonight and too far away to cast any illumination on the blackened beach below him.

Luckily for him, his Dusty Springfield watch was of the sort that glowed in the dark. It told him that it was still only 25 minutes past 11. Tension mounted and found release in the old family curse, as tortured gases were almost soundlessly expelled from his rear. Tonight, for once, they threatened no one, instantly dispersed as they were by the vigorous sea breeze.

Before he knew it, a tinny rendition of The son of a Preacher man rang out from his watch, telling him that it was 11.30 pm precisely. He switched off the sound of his beloved Dusty and began to listen acutely. He strained his entire being into the all-absorbing act of listening -- it brought its own reward.

First, he could hear oars working the water, next he could hear the crunch of wood on pebbles as the boat was run to beach and then he could hear the splashing in the shallows, as a mystery person disembarked.

Finding it difficult to believe that such a person would arrive here at this time in this way, Archilaus once more played the words of the tip-off through his mind "Kim Jong Il will come to seek asylum in Relubbus, arriving by rowing boat on the Western Green beach near Newlyn at 11.30pm on 24th December".

As the cold wet water soaked the shoes and lower legs of the new arrival, loud curses were heard in a language that was anything but Cornish. The words "Keh Shipp Sekya!" Were delivered in a high-pitched oriental voice...

At this critical moment, I switched on my Dusty Springfield pocket searchlight to reveal a stocky oriental clad in Mao suit disembarking from a sampan crewed by emaciated men wearing coolie hats.

Caught in the light, the stocky man froze and, in desperation, called out "Don't shoot!! Councillor Spargo great man -- Relubbus centre of world -- don't shoot! I come live here -- learn make pasties!! Don't shoot." It soon transpired that this was the extent of his non-Korean vocabulary.

The tip-off was correct. I was about to get the scoop of my life. Not a moment too soon. It was very cold and I felt that I really deserved long trousers now and couldn't wait until Simpsons of Penzance was next open so that I could acquire this much coveted badge of reporting maturity.