CHRISTMAS GETS A NEW LOOK IN MARAZION!!

The Marazion Apollo Theatre - as can be seen in the picture on the left - has been looking a little run down in recent years. 

The once hugely popular 37-seat theatre had seen better days - almost all of which are no longer within living memory.

The exception, of course, is in the case of 125-year-old "Lucky" Pender, who still lives in the same Barncoose hospital for the criminally insane that he has occupied since that fateful day - 110 years ago - when he tried to burn down Simpsons of Penzance after the staff of that fashionable store laughed at him when he tried on a new pair of trousers only to reveal that he wore no underpants.

Apparanetly "Lucky" still has vivid childhood memories of the place.

It has therefore come as considerable relief to many folk that the Relubbus mega-multibillionnaire entrepreneur, R C Oates, has dug deep in his generous pockets to splash out on a £749 refurbishment that has made the Marazion Apollo once again the number one entertainment centre within 172 yards of the famous Marazion town centre.

Resplendent in its new glory, the 10,000 seat renewed Marazion Apollo is set to clean up on Christmas and New Year Entertainment bookings in West Penwith.

The new artistic director of the Apollo is none other that Mrs Doris 'Ollis (43), who has been lured over from her job at the Treneere Fish Bar to take on this demanding role for an hourly reward, which is rumoured to run well below double figures.

A major factor in her readiness to take on this role lies in the fact that her husband ('usbant), Boris, is the driver of the bus that connects Penzance Bus station with Marazion.  "Eegen gimme free lift on the wayome like!", says an excited Mrs 'Ollis.

Doris has been given an artistic free hand and is using this opportunity to bring exciting new talent to the West Cornish stage.

We present just four of the new discovery headline acts she is bringing this Christmas.

Top of the bill is the "Pub Landlady" - or Lily Nichols as she is better known.  For some years, Lily has been practising her stand-up routine on the streets of Helston outside its various hostelries.  Fortified by cans generously donated by members of the public, she maintains a stream of comical verbiage until the stand-up becomes a fall-down, at which point the show ends and the Salvation Army moves in.

Thus honed in the harsh world of street stand-up, Lily will be bringing her routine  to the new Marazion Apollo stage.  Lily will be having a few drinks and telling a few stories of clever observational humour before she reaches the stage of technical fall-down or becomes too incoherent or lewd and has to be dragged from the stage.

Next up on the bill comes the raw sex and sizzle provided by the risqué burlesque troupe - "They Naughty Hopalong Maids" - from Tregeseal, St Just.

All six girls have in common the fact that they have been expelled from school for reasons termed as inappropriate behaviour and also the fact that they hop everywhere they go - including on stage.

They will be dancing - hopping - to their own rendition of "The Old Grey Duck", "Goin up Cambern 'Ill" and other classic favourites well known to the crowds.

Sure to be another success with the audience is the hypnotist's act known simply as Camp Count Colin.  This is a speciality act with a twist.   Colin - who hails from far away up in North Cornwall - is a mysterious type, who likes the Gothic look.

Exuding a manic confidence despite his strongly lisping stammer and startling falsetto voice, Colin affects what he regards as an East European accent, which, when married with his obviously Cornish vocabulary and grammar, creates a novel impact.

Amongst the embarassing things he gets his hypnotised victims (always young men) to do is to profess their love for him.  "It duh give a noo meanin' to 'turn queer', thasswat I duh say!"

Used to the 'anything goes' atmosphere prevailing in the nightclubs of Trewint and Tregole, Colin is now under strict instructions to keep his act clean enough for a family audience.

The final offering to gain a mention here is a new novelty act from Scotland - "The Two Tweeters",  a married couple by the name of Gordon and Sarah.

This pair of lovebirds performs an eye-catching tap dance whilst they simultaneously play the spoons in a routine so obviously dreamt-up and rehearsed in the comfort of their own front room.  However, such is the charm of their smiles - particularly Gordon's - that it is quite compelling.

They will also be singing a medley of songs - some of Gordon's own composition - including one about an old ex-friend:

"Who is that bastard?

His name is Tony............" (to the tune of "You take the High Road")

Ticket enquiries can be made at a booth in the alleyway next to "Out of the Blue"  in Market Place, Marazion.  You are advised to hurry as tickets are expected to sell quickly.

THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME IN BRITAIN!

By Cassius Dink, Professor of Modern Politics at Relubbus Oates University

There are those who might think that it is of little concern to the fortunate folk of Relubbus what transpires in the lands beyond Cornwall. In a sense, this is correct, since the economic might of Relubbus frees it from any concerns arising from the plunging fate of the UK, but it would be impolite to ignore what happens in that benighted state.

Furthermore, my professorial focus obliges me to map and comment upon not only the deliberations of state in Relubbus but also upon the fate of lesser states. Accordingly, I present my view of the twisting yarn of fate in the UK.

Skewered on the twisting spike of his own inadequacies, Gordon Brown, the bruised and bloodied bull of British politics retires from view each day to lick his wounds and to avoid the cruel barbs of the frenzied mob and the burning comment of the blazing Sun, before emerging to get battered yet again.

It is at this point that we must pause from viewing this scene of his daily humiliation to take a look at one who would claim to be his likely successor.

Political son of Tony Blair and grandson of St Margaret of Finchley, David Cameron (pictured here with his principal Etonian pal, Osborne) has wide-ranging plans to reform the British State and we take a look at some of these.

Having analysed information from Tory HQ generously supplied to me by the Relubbus Intelligence Police (known by comics as “The Undead” after their acronym RIP), I will comment on 5 Cameron levers of change, which reveal the essence of his true plan, which is to shrink (that’s not ‘sink’ – Ed) the State of Britain.

Disadvantaged Heroes

Cameron believes that the real heroes of Britain are those noble folk, who take on the burden of expenditure in place of the State. This happens in, say medicine or education, where private individuals opt out of claiming on the state-provided service and pay privately for their needs, as Cameron’s daddy did, in his own case, by paying for him to go to Eton.

These selfless heroes pay via National Insurance for the education and medical treatment of others (such as the labouring man on the left) whilst, at the same time, paying huge extra amounts to cover the cost of their own education and medicine privately.

A Cameron government sees provision of tax relief for these heroes as an early priority.

Under a Cameron true blue Tory government, the full cost of private education and medicine will, in future, be able to be off-set against tax in order to relieve the undue financial pressures on these selfless heroes.

Help for handicapped private schools

Whilst State schools enjoy huge flows of money from the taxpayer to completely support them, struggling private schools (such as Eton - here left) up and down the country enjoy no such help. Whilst they may be outstanding providers of quality education, they have to struggle, along with the self-sacrificing parents of their pupils, to carefully husband precious resources in order to keep standards up.

A Cameron government will halve the money currently being handed over to the State sector and pass it on to the hard-pressed private sector. With tears welling up in his eyes, Cameron has often been heard to say “I will even things up a bit. As a member of Eton’s 6^th reserve croquet team, it was source of great shame that we couldn’t afford to have our own croquet lawn just like the other five teams."

Civil service shake-up – here come Windsor Associates

The staff of the Civil service will be reduced to zero and the paltry few ‘necessary’ functions that remain will be taken up by a private firm called Windsor Associates. Like the Tory front bench most of the staff will be ex-Etonians, as the name gives away. However, to prove absence of bias and even-handedness, some staff might be drawn from other public schools like the ranks of Harrow or even, at a pinch, Stowe.

Plans show that Windsor Associates will supply 12 staff to take over the Treasury, 12 staff to take over the Foreign Office, the Home Office and the Ministry of Defence and all remaining departments will be closed with their prime central London locations to be sold off to raise urgently required funds.

Social Inclusion

Baroness Warsi of Dewsbury will spearhead the reform of British society, which is the primary goal of the Cameron Tory government. Labour seems to have prided itself on looking after the interests of the many.

However, under Labour rule, no one was looking after the interests of minorities, such as the very few people who earn in excess of £5 million a year. Warsi will change all that. She will be assisted in this task by Jonathan Woss, a member of a tiny oppressed minority of £6 million plus per annum earners, who will join her in the Lords as Baron Wossi of Wadio.

Under a new Tory government, Warsi and Wossi are understood to have agreed to immediately end all benefits payments – for ever. Millions of people have been receiving handouts totalling billions each year. Speaking in her fluent Dewsbury, Warsi is quoted as saying, “the kuntry kant afford it n’ more. It’s time for tuff luv!”

This policy will be buttressed and supported by a new Act of Enclosure.

The Act of Enclosure

Large areas of the UK will be ‘enclosed’ or fenced off. These will automatically include the Council Estates (like the one shown here) on which most former benefits recipients live and any other former benefits recipients will be shipped into the enclosed areas.

This action will lead to vast savings. ‘Enclosees’ will be required to ‘stand on their own two feet’. They will receive no State aid. There will be no policing, no free hospitals, no free doctors. However, there will be banks and shops, private healthcare providers – all the facilities of modern life, all heavily guarded and available to anyone at all – at a price.

These are just some of the secret plans of Leader Cameron, who sees himself as the man, the Leader, who can lead the country out of the economic mire into which the Labour party has taken it.

Indeed, it has emerged that, in the comfort of his own bath tub, he would prefer to be known, following his link up with certain right wing groups in Europe, by the German version of his title, der Führer.

Rupert Murdoch, the saintly mega multimedia Australian press Overlord has himself deigned to support Cameron. He has instructed his roboslaves in Sky and the paper rags he commands to ‘put the bloody knife in Brown and give it a daily twist from me! He was me best mate once, but now he looks like a bloody loser, hang ‘im out to dry!’

Speaking to Cameron from the luxurious confines of the outback dunny, in which he believes he makes his best contributions to life, he was overheard telling Cameron that there is no such thing as a free lunch. He is said to have instructed that Cameron must get the Queen to abdicate and offer the throne to “my boy, James”.

So, one wonders, will he do it? Well, Cameron has been overheard by the RIP singing in his bath tub “King James’s men will understand what Cameron's lads can do….”

Don’t miss the next 'Christmas Preparations' special issue of the RELUBBUS ROUNDUP!!!

THE SAGE OF SENNEN SPEAKS

Tens of thousands of happy holidaymakers visit Sennen beach each year. They are entranced by its sparkling, shimmering beauty and, as they relax and play on its pure white sands, the cares of daily life simply slip away from their consciousness.

As they frolic in the sea or just lie there letting the sun gently tan their revealed adiposity, little do they realise that they are within a mere hundred yards or so of one of the greatest sages to walk this earth, former postman A.C.D.C. “Jimmy” Jago (103).

Since taking early retirement from the Post Office at just 28 years of age, Jimmy has not moved from the sumptuously appointed beach hut he built himself all those decades ago. In his seclusion, he has devoted himself entirely to scaling the heights and plunging the depths of philosophical contemplations and exploration.

Naturally, the great and the good have sought his counsel and over the years Mohandas Ghandi, Nelson Mandela, the great Billy Spargo himself and a host of other luminaries have taken the well-trodden path to his door.

The Duke of Cornwall, Seine Königliche Hoheit Karl von Sachsen-Coburg und Gotha together with his old flame and new wife Kamillentee, and accompanied by his interpreter Matthias Wolfenbüttel, even has a regular monthly meeting with Jimmy to seek his advice on matters as diverse as architecture, growing cabbages as well as the royal predilection for wearing skirts.

So successful has Jimmy been in counselling on this delicate matter that Karl is now happy to be seen wearing his skirts in public. This newly found freedom has done wonders for the royal marriage, as can be seen from the accompanying happy snap.

The Roundup has visited Jimmy in his hut – or ‘hutment’ as he prefers to call it - to seek his views on the matters of the day. The Sage is pictured on the left wearing the typically cheerful and friendly mien, which reflects the still oceans of inner calm within. For those who do not know him, the Sage speaks only in verse.

Roundup: Your Eminence, do you have any comment on the recent political goings-on in the neighbouring UK?

Jago: The sky grows dark, as does the sea
‘T’is the black black influence of the BNP.
Led by a gryphon and followed by mules
The Bleddy Nazi Party are dangerous fools.

Roundup: Thank you for that insight, Your Holiness. Do you have any comment on the shenanigans in Westminster?

Jago: Drunk on power, but blind with fear
Gordon’s end is very near.
MPs feast on lush expenses
Too far now for mending fences.
London’s power now drains anew
To Edinburgh, Cardiff and Truro too.
Relubbus now will seize the day
And lead the world in Spargo’s way!

At this point, the penetrating pungent smell of home-made goat and nettle soup began wafting in from the cavernous kitchens at the back of the hut, indicating that it was time for the great man’s daily meal.

Bowing low, we reversed from the presence with repeated outpourings of grateful thanks and emerged, much refreshed, once more in the world of ordinary man.

UK POLITICS REVIEW - DEFIANT GORDON INSISTS HE'S GOT BALLS!!

Barely stabilised by the comfort blanket of the trappings of power in Downing Street, Gordon Brown refused to recognise the growing rolling force of the polling figures, which place his Labour Party at its worst ever standing since the days of Keir Hardy.

As the full extent of the woodworm of corruption in Labour’s body politic was revealed, even disgraced Government Ministers have been thinking out loud about life after parliament and politics.

Hazel Blears, who recently failed in her attempt to secure a post with the Greater Relubbus Urban Council (GRUC), is now set to bring out a book entitled “Motor Cycle Maintenance on Expenses”, whilst Alisdair Darling (pictured here in one of his eccentric toilet photographs) is also bringing out his own tax guide entitled ‘Capital Gains Tax and Flipping Houses’.

However, it is now believed that Brown has been forced to accept that the time has come to say “farewell Darling”. This will be achieved in a major re-shuffle to be announced later this week.

Despite a failed attempt to lure Archie Trezise (84), bookkeeper for Shelley’s Hair & Beauty at St Just, to be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer, Brown is said to be reasonably content to have to fall back on his No.2 choice, Ed Balls, the 12-year-old short-trousered gofer in the Schools Ministry, to take on the job.

Although Balls (pictured here playing after school with his best mate 'Angela' Burnham) is known to have learning difficulties -- particularly where arithmetic is concerned -- he is very loyal and ‘respectful’, where Brown is concerned, always referring to him as "Sir".

In a desperate attempt to appeal to the country with a re-shuffled government of all the talents to keep himself in a job and in funds, Brown is known to have approached several ‘big names’. His dream cabinet would include “The Lone Ranger’ at the Foreign Office, assisted by ‘Tonto’ (stage name Hughie Green) as Home Secretary, Lassie the Dog as Defence Minister, and Pinkie and Perkie to take on the Health and Education briefs.

Apparently, no one has had the heart to tell poor old Gordy that these dreams are not realisable, because these personages are no more.

However, all is not exactly well in the Tory camp either. The Tory Boy Eton Shadow cabinet (which still practises ‘fagging’) is apparently led by a ‘David Cameron’.

However the Roundup can exclusively reveal that DNA analysis has shown that Cameron is none other than an old - yes, very old - Tory friend.

Underneath the copious make-up, one can clearly see that he is nothing other than Sir Alec Douglas Home. The Tories seem to be serving up warmed-up Old Etonians, behind a two-man diversionary shield of Tubby Pickles and Baldie Hague, in the hope that we will not notice this blatant attempt by ‘the ruling class’ to re-assert their seigneurial rights over the people.

The ‘plausible alternative’ cover of the Liberals was blown by ex-leader Minger Campbell (209), when he claimed on Question Time that non-adherence to the House of Commons rules was explained by the fact that they were ‘just guidance’. New Leader, Click Nugg (17) has been desperate to try to scramble past that dreadful sentence, which wrecked a lifetime in politics for old Minger. Nugg has desperately tried to get to some higher ground, but, alas, all in vain.

Then there are the fringe parties. Foremost amongst these for sheer eccentricity is UKIP, led by fanatic mental patient, ‘nervous’ Nigel Barrage. ‘Nervous’ is kept near stable by the efforts and entire chemical output of Glaxo Smithkline. However, so tenuous is his link to the realms of normal human consciousness that no one but other folk mentally maintained by chemical outputs can be expected to favour him and his odd crew.

The BNP was almost not mentioned at all here following a fatwah to that effect by the Methodist Fundamentalist Bishop of Relubbus, His Proper Job Eminence Ernie Penrose. However, since the Bloody Nazi Party (BNP) will be fielding candidates in the forthcoming elections, we feel that it must be covered.

Since the benighted folk (pictured is the leader they really wish to have) who vote BNP have not noticed that there is no longer a Reichstag, representation within which they are ‘fighting’ for, any idiot who wishes to support them may feel free to do so, although this may not (but probably will) qualify them for residential treatment in a secure home.

This leaves the Green Party, led by the ultra-photogenic Laroline Cukas, who advocates replacing airplanes with hot air balloons. Providing that the balloons are two-person vehicles and that my ‘driver’ will be Laroline, they would get my vote.

But that is all academic, since I am a proud and happy citizen of Spargo’s Relubbus!!

BROWN BEGS SPARGO FOR GUIDANCE!

Gordon Brown (55), the embattled and beleaguered UK Prime Minister, has appealed from the sodden dark depths of desperation in his bunker in No 10 Downing Street to Greater Relubbus Urban Council (GRUC) Chairman Billy Spargo (99) for guidance on how to deal with the explosive and corrosive impact of the revelations of the unbelievable expenses excesses of the thoroughly discredited Westminster political poltroons pretending to represent the 'interests of the people'.

Spargo took the call whilst at Prospidnick House, his official residence at the midway point along world-famous Boswedden Lane.

Under the provisions of the Relubbus Freedom of Information Act, the transcript of the telephone call was made available to the panting hordes of the Relubbus press pack only seconds after it was concluded.

Amidst frequent sobs from those famously saggy baggy eyes and in a doom-laden voice redolent of wits end having been passed many moons ago, Gordon Brown gushed: “Your Holiness, is that you? Please, Councillor Spargo, tell me that it is you!”

Billy Spargo (amidst noises of flushing water): “This ‘ad better be good, you jes’ caught me in the only place I can get sum peace an’ quiet!”

Gordon Brown: “In the notes Tony left for me, it says that when things get really tough, I should call this Relubbus number and ask for Councillor Spargo!!....It is you, isn’t it, this is not some trap dreamt up by those Tory toff bastards!”

Billy Spargo (to the noise of paper sheets being methodically and authoritatively ripped off the roll): “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Come on Brown - I’m nearly finished in ‘ere, boy an’ I aren’t ‘angin’ about – I got the former - and the present - Madame Sarkozy waitin’ outside ‘ere fer me!”

Gordon Brown: “Morley’s been claiming £16,000 for a mortgage he didn’t have, Prescott has claimed £5,000 for a gastric band and the same amount for two re-inforced toilet seats, Darling has claimed £9,000 for two penis extensions and….(he breaks down into uncontrollable sobs)…every bloody bastard has been at it!

"Of course, the Tories have been much worse, Mr and Mrs Mackay have claimed £280,000 between them and Hague has spent nearly as much in a forlorn attempt to on grow a proper thatch of hair! Douglas Pigg has even had his moat cleaned out at taxpayers’ expense.

"I am trying to play the noble statesman card, but it isn’t working. Please, just tell me what do I do?”

Billy Spargo, washing his hands with Trevarno soap lovingly fashioned for him by Betsy Pengelly (27 and pictured left), thought briefly about the UK Prime Minister’s manufactured mess and was about to reply, when Gordon Brown’s desperate whimpering noises were drowned out by the insistent sound of the pips, which were a sign that Gordon’s last 50 pence had been used up.

Reflecting that Gordon’s desperate cost-savings measures had gone a step too far by introducing payphones across Downing Street, Billy adjusted his truss, saluted the flag of Greater Relubbus and set off towards the two panting French females who were also desperate for his attention.

WHAT IS THIS THING CALLED CREDIT CRUNCH?

In Relubbus annual growth is expected to hit a record 21.9% in 2009, the 59th consecutive year of growth in our economy, which is the envy of the world. Mortgage rates in Relubbus are a comfortable 0.15% per annum, on 21 times salary. Savings rates have hit an all time high of 17.5% per annum for instant access accounts.

All of these miraculous achievements were made possible by the nomination by Greater Relubbus Urban Council (GRUC) Chairman Billy Spargo (97) of his childhood friend, Bernie Madoff-Withit (97 and pictured on the left) as Treasury Minister some 60 years ago. Treasury Ministers the world over constantly try to pump Madoff-Withit for the secret of his success. He remains - as ever - tight-lipped.

The English Chancellor (who curiously speaks with a Scottish accent), Alice Dear Darling, has been seen on bended knee pleading for some insightful guidance so that he can lead the English out of the mess his boss, Gordon the Brun (who also curiously speaks with a Scottish accent) has led them into. It is not only the English economy which is in a total mess – the Americans, sundry Europeans and the Asian tigers have all fallen prey to the illness which besets the English economy.

At this stage, one should note that the Welsh and the Scots (fellow Celts, O dear people of Relubbus!) enjoy an absence of irritants such as tuition fees and hospital parking charges. (Is this perchance Alice and Gordon’s secret gift to the Celtic world?).

However, Alice has discovered that the figures just do not add up. In a secret meeting, in heavy disguise, with Bernie at a Little Chef restaurant in Kent (where Bernie insisted the bill be paid by Alice!) Alice howled over his chips that he “didna' knaw how it’s all gonneh end! Everything we do seems to turn to shite! Can ye no help us owt, Bernie?”

Bernie appeared to keep his cool and confine his comments to appreciative, though not very informative, slurping and chomping of his eggburger-and-chips and coffee.

Once this meal had been consumed, Bernie thanked the English Chancellor for the “ansum bitta grub” and stated how much he looked forward to meeting Alice again at the next G20 meeting. Then, overlooking the fact that Alice lay crumpled in body and spirit, weeping helplessly at his feet, he eased his right leg to release a noisome parcel of noxious gas into the receptive English air, and strode off to the gleaming, purring Ministerial Ford Prefect car, waiting to whisk him off back to Relubbus.

Of course, those of us who have the good fortune to live in the sainted environs of world-famous Relubbus know nothing of this thing called Credit Crunch, but, to help the people of Relubbus appreciate the woes of others, we despatched intrepid Roundup roving reporter, Aggie “Pipey” Penlowarth across the border to England (Pow Saws in Kernewek).

There she sought out and interviewed representatives of certain key groups in order to get the measure of the crisis besetting the English economy.


She spoke first to Linda Titt, the 27 year old spokesperson for the English Collective of Prostitutes, who told her that “fings ain’t never bin so bad, like. Punters ain’t got no money no more, like, innit? Like we got reductions on all lines – sometimes as much as 50% - and no one is interested, innit? We tried advertising in Relubbus, innit, but them Methodist fundamentals was like mental man, innit, innit?"

As the ‘innit’ count grew ever higher, taking Linda’s utterances off into the lofty realms of incomprehensibility, Pipey moved off to interview another key indicator – none other that Bill “Crowbar” Hatchet, the 43-year-old representative of the English Union of Housebreakers and Forced Entry Operatives.

Bill stated that whilst Linda’s girls might be able to lay claim to the title of the oldest profession, his lads would not be too far behind with their claim to similarly ancient honours.

He pointed out that, whilst burglars have their standards, the credit crunch was forcing too many amateurs into the game, who were giving it a bad name. The Union had a number of ‘minimum performance standards’, governing such basic matters as the time taken to gain entry, the correct use of the crowbar, the minimum time to ‘immobilise’ the house-owner without ANY permanent injury to his/her health, adherence to RSPCA-approved treatment of guard dogs, the taking of appropriate breaks during work, etc. All of these high professional performance standards were being simply ignored by moonlighters into the world of professional crime.

A similar doom-laden message was given by Tina Chav, the 23-year-old Public Relations Officer for the Basildon-based Retail Pilferers’ Association. Said Tina “Ya knaw waddimean, innit? We’re like a professional body, like for people wot takes fings wivout payin’, innit? Our members is like everywhere, innit – in Whittards, Woolworths, Adams and everyfink like that, innit? Closin them stores is like takin’ our income away, innit – plus you got all dem amateurs wot is like competin wiv us like, innit”.

Pipey, getting the message and tiring once more of the rising ‘innit’ count, decided to leave the sorry sad world of Alice’s wonderland and return to the reassuring sanity of Relubbus.

RELUBBUS LATEST NEWS IN BRIEF

Prospidnick man gives birth to Octuplets!!

By our medical correspondent, Ivor Kneebone

The recent news of an Oregon man being five months pregnant has been totally eclipsed by the shock news of a Prospidnick man giving birth to 8 children - thirty years ago!
Pictured on the left with their 8 - now grown-up - children are, seated, Jeremy, 62, (on the left) and Daniel, 71, Ladner. Jeremy employs all his 7 sons in his undertaking business, whilst his husband, Daniel, and their daughter, William, rear budgerigars (free range, of course!) for consumption in Jamie Oliver's restaurants.

Since "things were difficult fer people like we in them days", Daniel dressed as a woman throughout their whole marriage - and still does.

Jeremy puts down their unique success in bringing octuplets to the world in a same sex relationship to the peculiar strength of some home-grown fertility drugs, which he developed in the mortuary.

Their children have adapted well to the shock news - as tallest son, Nathaniel said, "I allus thought 't was funny maither was called Daniel, now we all duh knaw why."

Top Eating House opens in Boswedden Lane

by our cullinary correspondent, Morwenna Dollop

Fine dining has always been possible in Boswedden Lane, with celebrity chefs competing with one another to secure catering space in this top address. Now, in a desperate attempt to plug a gap in their outreach to the dining cognoscenti of Relubbus (the likes of W G Trevaskis and R C Oates) the Savoy has spent tens of millions to acquire a prime site in Boswedden Lane and, thereby, to complete their palette of offerings to the rich and famous, by plugging this very obvious gap in Relubbus.

The Savoy's new premises are pictured on the left and will be familiar to all as Mrs Polkinghorne's Pasty Shop (left door) and (right door) Lefty Bennet's Speakeasy and Old-time Pissoire.

Accordingly, one location, famous for the production of high quality pasties, and an adjacent location, famous for both the consumption and expulsion of intoxicating liquids, have merged to become the location of high price consumption of the finest foods.

Courtroom Dramas in Relubbus

by legal Correspondent, Barry Stir

Relubbus Divorce Court was the scene of high tension and of passionate outbursts as the celebrity couple, Dickie Trembath (31), and his wife, Lisbet (29) fought over a financial settlement to mark an end to their ill-starred union. Dickie, a much feted conductor, who learnt his craft with Western National Bus Company, before joining the prestigious Relubbus Philharmonic Orchestra, has become rich working on the international music scene, where he immediately achieved notoriety by using his trade-mark ticket machine instead of the customary baton.
Lisbet started her glittering career as a dental nurse, before she became a gossip columnist, initially feeding the public with gems of information picked up in surgery. She has been a controversial journalist, who, more than once, has been accused of making up the news - most famously when she claimed a scoop involving the English Heritage/Scottish Prime Minister Gordon Brown (117) and champion Russian tractor driver Ludmilla Hamsterovna (84).

Almost as an illustration of how pathetically mundane the "apparent" causes of marital breakdown can be, Lisbet accused her husband of excessive snoring and farting - to the extent that she claimed that it was necessary for her to wear breathing apparatus at night.

For his part, Dickie was having none of it. Nervously winding his ticket machine - always fully loaded and never far from him - he delivered his counter-accusations in his familiar tremulous falsetto stutter, "That bleddy bitch been 'avin' an affair wi' that weirdo 'Landshark' and 'is doggin pals up Madron Carn".

Justice Tregarthen-Bolitho, the child prodigy judge, who is only aged 12 and always attends court in the company of his mother, played seemingly absent-mindedly with his trainset while accusation and counter-accusation flew around the courtroom. Then at 2.30 pm, when one of his favourite TV programmes was about to start, he cooly adjusted his wig and suspended proceedings until the next day.

Lisbet was afterwards seen by this writer heading off towards Madron Carn in the company of various gentlemen of doubtless dubious reputation, whilst her husband pursued her in the back of a chauffeur-driven Ford Anglia with darkened windows, whilst the sound of a manically turned ticket machine slowly faded into the distance.