OBITUARIES: A FOND FAREWELL...

Ethel Batt, the famous ‘songbird of Sancreed’, has passed on at the ripe old age of 104. In accordance with her last wishes, her ashes are to be scattered onto pasties on the Warrens production line in St Just, before they are sealed up and crimped, “so the gift of my voice duh pass direct into the gullet of possible successors.”

In time-honoured fashion (she was originally from Crows an Wra), she has also issued a ‘dying curse’ upon the new Unitary Authority in Cornwall.

Miss Batt was unmarried and leaves her entire estate of £190,000 to her nephew, Cricket (59), an unmarried mortuary assistant from Truro.

Bosvargus Trewern, the former professor of philosophy in the saloon bar of the Swordfish Inn in Newlyn has now sadly taken his last drink, having expired on the Mouzel bus on his way home last Saturday.

Mr Trewern, known fondly by both friends and staff at the Swordfish as “Puddles’, was 79. A man equally at home with a schooner of sweet sherry, a Mackeson or a pint of Watneys Red Barrel, he was only ever known to mix up all three into his ‘special’ after 9.00 pm of an evening and therefore liked to think of himself as a man of bearing, character and sobriety.

Mr Trewern has left his entire estate of £70,000 to 31 year old Swordfish barmaid Nancy Nance, a gift which has caused some raised eyebrows in both Newlyn and Colinsey Road, where she lives.


Wella Donna Jacka, 55, a music teacher, cello solo performer, member of Mount Street Methodist choir and a very popular Guide leader, died last week in a tragic accident, whilst performing her special routine ‘Cello on the cliffs with Wella’ at Lands End.

Always up for a challenge, Miss Jacka continually responded to the call from enthusiastic young Brownies to “sit nearer the edge, Miss!” by moving her seat closer to the edge.

Unfortunately, this proved misjudged when, in the head-nodding fury of a particularly energetic piece, she, together with cello and chair, disappeared over the edge on to the jagged rocks and crashing waves below. Miss Jacka’s estate of £195,000 passes to her devoted lifelong live-in partner, Hazel Opie (54), a primary School teacher.

The world said farewell last week to Long Rock lothario, Leonard Pricke (61), who choked on his false teeth, which he had forgotten to take out. Leonard, a milkman all his life, was never short of a chat-up line and, although he did not marry, always seemed to have a girl – or, at least, a female - in tow.

Leonard was a man of many accomplishments, all of which he kept well hidden from everyone else. Long Rock children lovingly gave him the name “Pavement Pat”, because he often spent a summer night on the pavement in front of the Mexico Inn after a heavy night.

His last girlfriend, Ruby Dick (52), a trainee prostitute from Nancledra, said of him “Ee was sum lovely man, ee was! Proper gent – ee still ‘ad all ‘is own teeth, though ee never brushed them never!” Mr Pricke leaves his entire estate of £53. 59 pence to the Pendeen home for Non-recovering Dipsomaniacs.

CORNISH WORLD AND CORNISHMAN ARE STARS!

Professor Ivor Codpiece (99), Professor of Publishing at the Relubbus Insititute of Publishing and Opprobrious Fescennine Fanfaronades (RIPOFF) has been conducting a survey of the thousands of magazines and publications available throughout Cornwall.

We asked the good professor to take time out of his busy schedule and write a review of the very best. He began his exposition with the wholly predictable observation that the Relubbus Roundup itself was an organ of international significance and renown and therefore beyond the scope of a purely Cornish review.

He praised the Roundup’s incisive grasp of all the significant threads of political, cultural and philosophical import and stated that no other publication in the world could compare with it.

Then, prising himself from the clinging clutches of his adoring assistant, Tamsin Opie (25), the great man condescended to opine on two exemplary Cornish publications in his Cornish Publishing Review.

The first publication he singled out for unstinting praise was a magazine called Cornish World. He dismissed all competing magazines (there are some 1,900) as being tawdry vehicles for Estate Agents’ drivel dreamed up to ensnare the fickle attentions of the wealthy English visitor.

In contrast, Cornish World seemed aimed at the Cornishman in Cornwall. Further, it concerned itself with real live Cornish issues. The good professor confessed that he and Tamsin had spent many a happy hour entangled in contemplation of its pages and further suggested that it become required reading for everyone in Cornwall above the age of two and a half years.

He then dictated a note to young Tamsin instructing master Pengelly to increase his print run accordingly and make arrangements for delivery to all Cornish houses.

The second publication to win the praise of the great Professor is, of course, none other than The Cornishman itself. This is the newspaper everyone else tries to emulate. Well-known Australian dingo-jumper Murdoch has been itching to get his hands on this grand organ, but even his great riches are insufficient to land him this bejewelled crown of the newspaper world.

The good professor spoke at great length about the numerous highlights, which overwhelm the reader from start to finish, concluding that the Obituaries were pure liquid poetry.

At this point the good Professor began to dribble badly and Tamsin, appearing now in comely Nurse’s outfit and wearing 'naughty blonde' wig, insisted on terminating the interview and taking the Professor back to the treatment room.




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PENSIONERS BLASTED INTO SPACE

The picture shows the moment at the NASA (Neerly Alright Space Agency) launch pad at Cape Cornwall on Friday, when all twelve inhabitants of a Sancreed Old Folks Home were blasted into space aboard a specially-adapted Western National bus, en route for Mars, the Red Planet.

The successful launch was the culmination of years of planning and effort by thousands of scientists at the giant St Buryan Space City.

As the launch was relayed, on giant television screens, to the underground control room on the seventh level of the Space City, jubilant engineers burst into spontaneous applause, hugging each other in delight. Some were so overcome with relief that their years of effort had not been in vain that tears coursed uncontrolled down their faces.

The object of the expedition is to found a colony -- a kind of mini St Buryan -- on Mars. It is hoped that, in time, the colonists (being Cornish) will be able to exploit the vast mineral wealth of their new home. Once mines have been established, it is envisaged that a trading station will be set up, and that wealth will flow back to the "motherland" of St Buryan.

All the pensioners are volunteers who have seized the chance to begin a new life on the Red Planet. When asked why they volunteered for the mission, a majority said -- unaccountably -- that it was because they were bored with life in Sancreed!

As the picture shows, none of the intrepid astronauts -- courageous though they undoubtedly are -- were willing to sit on the open top deck of the bus during lift-off.

To make the expedition possible, two litres of fuel were supplied free by Cornish entrepreneur and philanthropist W.G. Trevaskis, with Trevaskis's arch-rival RC ("Arsey") Oates and the Kwop making similarly generous contributions.

POETIC UTTERANCE – WAKFER-BORLASE SPEAKS!

Celebrated St Buryan poet Walter Wakfer-Borlase (94) is shown here on the left in a photograph taken by Dorlas Penrose, ultraloyal retainer, in a photo-shoot some thirty years ago.

Wakfer-Borlase has achieved international recognition (throughout St Buryan) for his evocative poetry, which is inspired by the Cornwall "to which I duh owe my all".

The great man penned the following poem from his deathbed, following a walk in bracing winds in Porthleven last week.

PEN SANS (Wosgoinoneera?)

I wen’ over Porthlebben las’ week -
Went fer a walk an’ a li’l bit geek.
The sun was sum lovely, but the sea - it was rough
A wind was up – an' we soon ‘ad enuff.

So we all come ‘ome fer a nice cup tay
A nice warming drink at the end of the day.
We come through P’nzance, the Ross bridge still down
Forcin’ the traffic round an’ up through the town.

That set me to thinkin’ ‘ow much ‘ave gone by
No Marchants, no Jacobs – no real reason why.
The town changes shops, like a woman ‘er dress
But I don’t think the changes are all fer the best.

Now i’s all bleddy phone shops – estate agents too --
Cheap shops and trash shops – give me nuthin’ – nor you.
Tregenza’s, Trezise’s – old names and true
Like Andrewartha and Simpsons – served my grandfathers too.

They are all old ‘real’ businesses – source of pride fer P’nzance
Give the town value and character – their names ring of romance.
‘Ow long will it be till these old names go too
And we’re left with just ANYTOWN’s Orange and O2?

The Roundup is saddened to have to report that Walter choked on his badger broth some few hours after dictating this work to his ever-faithful live-in companion and amanuensis, Dorlas Penrose (72).

Amidst uncontrollable floods of tears, Dorlas stated that his ‘beloved master’ would now, at least, no longer have to witness the continued depletion of old Cornish businesses in the town he fondly described as the capital of West Penwith.

ERRATA

The Roundup is justly known for its high standards of journalism, which are the envy of the newspaper industry. However, even we have made the odd mistake.

We apologise unreservedly to the family of Mrs Doris Lutey, whose obituary last week was entitled “Soliciting in Penzance for over 35 years”. Mrs Lutey’s calling is, of course, more properly described as that of a solicitor.

We also apologise to Mrs Lutey herself, who has written in to tell us that she is not yet, in fact, dead. Following extensive negotiations with Mrs Lutey, the Roundup has agreed to pay a sum of £12.50 to the Sancreed Methodist Home for Fallen Women.

GIANT WIND FARM FOR HELFORD

By Technology Correspondent Jon Quick

The picture shows an artist's impression of the first stage of the giant wind farm that is to be built in the shallow waters of Helford creek, adjacent to the village of Helford, on the Lizard peninsula.

Initially, there will be only two turbines (each 400 feet tall), but eventually there are expected to be some two hundred.

A spokeswoman for the new Cornwall Unitary Authority said that the site was "ideal".

In most areas, she said, locals objected strongly to the intrusive nature of the colossal structures on the landscape. However, because Helford village consisted almost entirely of second homes, it remained unoccupied for most of the year, and therefore she anticipated that there would be few objections.

"How can people object to their view being spoilt if they're not there to see it in the first place?" she asked.

Jon Quick is the Dean of St Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin.

GOODWIN TO BE SUED IN RELUBBUS COURTS

Sir ‘Right Said Fred’ Goodwin, the much-disgraced former CEO of the British banking giant, Royal Bank of Scotland (RBS), is to be sued in the Relubbus Courts by shareholders under the feared provision of ‘bleddy reckless incompetence’ under Relubbus law.

Goodwin (now universally referred to as 'Badloss') is pictured here on the left, in much happier times back in 2006, when he had just received the news that he was being paid more than any other individual in British banking.

Relubbus has been chosen for this action, because of the retention of capital punishment for certain ‘grave offences’.

It is thought likely that Goodwin will have to appear before the unforgiving presence of Chief Justice Horton “’Ang’em all!” Tresidder (111).

Tresidder, a member of the feared Methodist Fundamentalist group, ‘the Golems’, dispenses a form of justice more in keeping with Sharia law, though a good deal more extreme, than with any notions of Western justice.

Judge Tresidder insists on a minimum of corporal punishment for all who come before his court, even if they are innocent, “to teach them respect for the law”. Tresidder retains his own cat o’nine tails for this purpose.

Tresidder is famed for his frequent insistence upon ‘double beheading’. His chief executioner, ‘Mad’ Madron Maddern (59), explains this ancient practice thus: “You gotta cut the’ead off clean in one go, scoop’n up quick, sew ‘n on again and chop ‘n off again bleddy quick!”

Maddern can apparently perform this amazing act within 2 minutes, although he remains very keen to try to better his record. Maddern is also extremely adroit in the practice of scrotal resurfacing (using a strong hydrochloric acid wash), which he usually administers to suspects to make them talk and sometimes just for fun. Maddern is known to have been on to the suppliers recently to top up supplies.

The famous Relubbus Human Rights Organisation, “Wha’s goin' on ‘eera?”, led by Miss Peggy Trevanion (75) from ‘up ‘Eamoor, who herself lost a considerable sum as an RBS shareholder, said “I’m sure Goodwin ‘ll get what ee duh deserve from Mr Justice Tresidder and from young Maddern!”

Justice Tresidder had much of his pension invested in RBS shares and therefore is able to identify with the sense of loss felt by many RBS shareholders. Maddern too had the whole of his pension stored in RBS shares and is keen to be able to get to know Goodwin.

This sense of association, in both men, with the plight of other shareholders and with those who had invested parts of their pension pots in RBS shares is greatly heightened by the fact that car-mad Goodwin seems to have managed to combine his startling act of ‘crashing’ the bank in a spectacular way with his amazing feat of walking away from the crash unscathed -- and with a huge personal pension in addition to the millions he had managed to acquire from the bank over the years whilst he was building up a tremendous speed for a good crash.

Goodwin, who has taken an up-front payment of nearly £3 million from his overgenerous pension pot "to meet the odd household expense", was seemingly unfazed by all the fuss about the bank’s crash and the wrecked lives of shareholders, staff and customers.

Speaking from the Maldives – to which he had flown in his personal jet – ‘to get away from it all’, Goodwin remarked, “I am not a bitter man, although I have good cause to be.

"If I could have stayed at RBS, I would be hauling in a good £4 million per year basic and I have now had to kiss goodbye to all that! I have told the wife that there is now every chance that I will have to give up the yacht".

Goodwin's maritime run-around, named "Thank you Darling" (believed to be a reference to the Chancellor) was built for him on the Clyde at a cost of £5 million.

Disconsolately, he sipped his Chateau Lafite Rothschild Pauillac 1996 straight from the bottle via his diamond-encrusted golden straw and mused that he could only thank the lord that he had been able to stash away so much money in the good years, since he was now looking at a very bleak future in which he would be forced to keep going on a paltry pension of just £703,000 a year.

However, the millions he had managed to salt away over the ten years at the wheel of RBS provided consoling thoughts …….until the doughty Roundup reporter, who had rowed out from Lamorna for the interview, broke the shock news of his summons before the Relubbus courts.