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70 Year Old Woman Regrets Tattoo

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Mary Heinz, a 70-year-old ‘former hellraiser’ from Merseyside has claimed to regret getting her entire body covered in tattoos.

In an interview with pensioners’ magazine ’65+’ – which she insists wasn’t done just to supplement her meagre pension – Mary says:

“My parents always told me: you’ll regret it when you’re older. And they were totally right. It’s really difficult to see my flabby, grey, inelastic skin under the vibrant multi-coloured complexity of my unique self-designed tattoos. Every time I look in the mirror and squint really, really hard I am reminded by my tattoos of my misspent youth. All that fun I had, and all I’ve got to show for it is the work of art that disfigures my hunched frail shell of a body.

“It’s such a shame for others to see my body, such as my doctor or my husband of 44 years who asked me out because he liked my tattoos, because obviously they’re disgusted by the appalling destruction of my failing, saggy torso.

“I am consumed with so much regret. I should never have got tattoos when I was young and in the physical prime of my life, because now I’m past it they totally ruin all the fun I apparently could be having.”

Mary has shrugged off claims that she was being relentlessly sarcastic in her interview.

“I meant every word. In fact, I’m even going on Tattoo Fixers this year to get all of my tattoos altered. I’m going to have my idiosyncratic inks covered by the reptilian skin of an untattooed 70-year-old woman. Maybe then I can go unnoticed like a normal, boring pensioner who secretly regrets everything deep down inside.”

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David Bowie’s Son to Sue NASA for Failing to Find Out if There is Life on Mars

Gage Skidmore [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Gage Skidmore [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

The film director Duncan Jones, son of the late pop legend David Bowie, has threatened via his twitter account to sue NASA for failing to answer his father’s question: is there life on Mars?

“My father was asking ‘is there life on Mars?’ for 45 years, and yet NASA failed to find an answer. I shall be suing as soon as possible.” he tweeted an hour ago.

A bewildered NASA responded via their own Twitter account:

“We are sorry for your loss, but rest assured we have looked and continue to look for life on Mars. We found water, which is a good sign.”

The relatively polite exchange descended into a heated argument quite quickly.

Duncan: “My father didn’t ask if there was water on Mars. He asked if there was life on Mars. I am definitely suing you.”

NASA: “Honestly, we kind of assumed the question was rhetorical.”

Duncan: “Whatevs.”

NASA: “Why are you picking on us anyway? You’re British, sue the ESA.”

Duncan: “You have more money.”

NASA: “Frankly, you probably used to get more pocket money than we got funding. You find life on Mars.”

Jones’s uncharacteristic behaviour continued when he also threatened to sue every lawman who beat up the wrong guy, films which are saddening bores, sailors who fought in dancehalls, and Mickey Mouse for turning into a cow.

There has yet to be any official response from all concerned.

 

NEWS UPDATE: Duncan Jones’s twitter account has been confirmed as having been hacked by the person responsible for last night’s hacking of Jeremy Corbyn’s account. Suspicions were aroused when he called Angie Bowie a pie.

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Open Letter to Richard Branson

What follows is an open letter to the famed entrepeneur Richard Branson, by should-be-famous entrepeneur Gerard Nickleby…

By User:David Shankbone [CC BY 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

By User:David Shankbone [CC BY 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Dear Richard Branson,

I too am an entrepeneur, and I have discovered a foolproof way that you could save money. I suggest that you take me on as an advisor, with a 51% share in all revenue from the savings made via the use of my idea.

Basically, stop all of Virgin Media’s junk mail. I know you don’t actually run the company these days, but you must hang around their offices and stuff. Just burn all the ‘dear householder’ letters. There’s millions of them. I get two every week, and I’m already with Virgin. It’s a veritable rainforest of paper.

You know it will work. And it will make people very happy. That’s all that you want, because I can tell by the way you smile in your adverts. You’re a lovely guy.

I’ve got plenty of other ideas too:

  • Reduce the number of complaints to Virgin Rail by getting rid of your special customer service booths (do you still own Virgin Rail?).
  • Give up on the hot air balloon business (were you in the hot air balloon business? They were in your adverts). It’s a waste of time now we’ve invented planes. It’s just a load of ‘hot air’ (HAHAHAHA!).
  • Pour your money into my new company, ‘Gerard’s Sandwiches’. There’s a market for good railway sandwiches, and I’m the man to fill it (with great sandwich fillings! HAHAHAHA!). Your cash is the best cash. (I apologise if you actually make the sandwiches at railway stations. Do you own Ginsters?)

There’s more where they came from.

So employ me now. Here are my bank details:

Gerard Obsequious Nickleby

9887 353 873

You know it makes sense, Richard.

I am a king of busines. I am a genius of ideas. I’ve never been on The Apprentice because Alan Sugar doesn’t deserve me. But you do. You are like Noel Edmonds, but cool. You are the sexy king of business.

If you employ me, I will be the Smithers to your Burns.

 

I love you,

 

Gerard Nickleby.

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Life on The Ark…

On the Ark...

by Kevin Harris

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Homeless Man Creates Superhero Costume from Discarded Umbrellas

By Matias Garabedian from Montreal, Canada (Abandoned) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

By Matias Garabedian from Montreal, Canada (Abandoned) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Kyle Manors has always been a creative man. He was once the foremost designer of top of the range bum-bags and shellsuits, until the market changed and his fortunes dipped. Twenty years and a severe case of clinical Minecraft addiction later, the bedroom tax dealt the final blow, and Kyle found himself homeless and living on the streets of Liverpool.

“I have always prided myself on my ability to adapt, but sadly life was one twist ahead,” he told our reporter.

However, misfortune has not dulled Kyle’s positive nature or his creativity.

“Life is hard on the streets. People living rough are faced with all kinds of dangers, and I wanted to help in any way I could. I no longer have a home or a job to defend, but I can do something for my friends on the street.”

Kyle realised that the homeless people of Liverpool needed a hero, and so he used his creative skills to become one. After rummaging round his local bins he found what he needed, and his super alter-ego was born.

People first became aware of this new vigilante when Saturday night drunks began turning up at A & E complaining of being attacked by a ‘shiny, pointy man’.

“I was laughin’ at this tramp like, on me way to Baa Bar, and then this black shiny creature appeared out of the shop doorway and started smackin’ me on the head,” said one statement released by the police.

“He’s made of brollies! I nearly shat meself, lad,” said another.

Rumours began to spread about this odd hero. Was he real? Was he actually made of umbrellas? It took us a few weeks, but we finally tracked down the man behind the black plastic. Kyle was more than happy to talk to us.

“If my real identity mattered then I wouldn’t have had to become a super hero in the first place. Truth is, people don’t notice a man or woman shivering in a shop doorway, but they do notice a walking mass of black spiky plastic.”

They certainly do. It’s an inventive costume.

“I didn’t really have a choice. Bins are mostly just full of pasty wrappers and brollies. I’m lucky that most people buy crap brollies that break at the first hint of wind.

“Fortunately, it’s actually a really good costume. It keeps the rain off in the winter. Which is essential for a homeless person as we don’t have our own roof. And it has lots of spikes, which deters the council from trying to move me from shop doorways. I can’t fly though. They do look a bit ‘wing’-y, umbrellas, but I fell two stories, so that’s a no.”

How has the public response been?

“Great. They love me in the 24 hour McDonald’s. I keep out the drunk arseholes, and they let me kip on one of their benches. The takings from begging have gone up city-wide too, and more people are buying the Big Issue than ever before. All in all, it’s been a great success.”

Before we go, do you have a superhero name?

“Yes. I am Homeless Man. I personify all all the shortcomings of modern British government and society, and shove them right in everybody’s complacent little face.”

Thank you, Kyle.