Tuesday, September 19, 2006

4KH writer attached by bedsheets

EDINBURGH, September 19th, 2006-- today it was revealed that 4KH writer Miles Lang has been seconded to the Scottish Parliament, where he has been cleaning windows while attached to the roof by bedsheets stolen from the nearby Novotel. When asked why he had found himself in such a situation, he told us, "It's the weather. The weather has changed. The winter is coming and I can feel it. I can see from the glazed look in your eyes that you can feel it too. Don't try to hide it. Not from me or from yourself." When we asked him why the window-cleaning, he walked away from us, speaking over his shoulder as he walked through the odd corridors of the Parliament building. "They told me that if I cleaned all the windows quickly, so that the first one I did was still clean, then I would have a good winter," he said, "and there was something I trusted in their eyes. But look, you're slowing me down. This isn't a toga party! Sorry. I have to go."
Lang's progress will be tracked. If we can work out where he might be at any given time.

Monday, September 04, 2006

Australian git poked with own petard

HARLEM, Sept. 4th, 2006 -- The news of the death of Australian animal-poking git Steve Irwin reached our Harlem reporter by Instant Message, a transcript of which we reprint here:

Kerry: Yo. Bad timing. I am going HOME in a few minutes
Stephen: Ah feck! Happy Labor Day!
Kerry: I saw that on my calendaaaaaaaaar
Stephen: You are going HOMO in a few minutes?
Kerry: Aye. Did you hear about the crocodile poker man ?
Stephen: No
Kerry: You know the one ?
Stephen: No
Kerry: Steve Irwin. Australian wildlife person
Stephen: Oh yes?
Kerry: Poked crocodiles and ran away a lot
Stephen: What about him?
Kerry: He's DEAD
Stephen: Excellent! He was such a twat. What happened?
Kerry: He was swimming and a stingray stabbed him in the heart
Stephen: Ooopz!
Kerry: Apparently they have barbs in their tales the size of a bread-knife
Stephen: He was cross-eyed and stupid anyway. Am I being harsh?
Kerry: Well he's poked his last animal
Stephen: This is true -- he's gone to poke angels up on high.
Or Divil Sparrows in the other place.
Kerry: "Look at this liddle byooody"
Stephen: I HATE Aussie accents. HATE!
Kerry: "Let's just powk 'im with a steek"
Stephen: fucking didjereedon't playing freaks
Kerry: That's Aborigines
Stephen: There were Aussies on the subway the other evening
Kerry: They're so LOUD. Were they poking hobos with a stick ?
Stephen: No, they were loud and out-doorsy
Kerry: Probably on their way to a poking convention
Stephen: If you are on the number 1 train going up the west side, you see backpackers (usually Aussies) counting off the streets while holding compasses and maps.
Kerry: And sticks
Kerry: I'm AFF
Have a nice day, etc
Kerry: Byeeeeeee
Stephen: Byeeeeeeee

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Edinburgh man missing after strange uncorking sound

HARLEM, September 3rd, 2006 -- A well-known Edinburgh soothsayer and seer has been reported missing after witnesses say they heard a strange 'uncorking' sound, described by scientists as resembling "the sound of a piece of cork being withdrawn from a glass container."

The sound resonated across the city of Edinburgh, causing people sleeping off a night of drinking to stir slightly and mutter, "mmmwwmmmphh? My round again?" before nodding off again.

In an encyclical, the Pope has said: "Achtung! Missing Saint Miles of Leamington has always guided me through tough times, such as when I sprained my ankle in a smash-and-grab raid in 1856. Plus he gives a good, heady Mass with plenty of well-rounded Latin phrasing. If he doesn't show up soon, I don't know where I'll ever get a recipe for that Red Bull and Pernod concoction that helped me through der Great Spiritual Crisis of 1939-45. Heil!"

Police say they have no leads.

"I have no leads. I don't even own a pet dog," said Inspector Rebus. "Now fuck off out of my bar."

Monday, August 21, 2006

The world is ending tomorrow, NYC time, or RIGHT NOW, Edinburgh time

HARLEM, August 21st, 2006 -- News reports suggest that it's All Over, Folks, and that August 22nd is the End of the World. So good luck! I'll find you at the bar.

Whatever happens tomorrow/is happening today, chances are this couple below may be responsible. If you see them, DO NOT offer to buy them a drink.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Streep in town with puppet show

EDINBURGH, August 17th, 2006-- The actress Meryl Streep is in town with her touring show, The Church of the Snuffleupagus. We met with her in her room at The Caledonian to ask her a few questions. "What's the show about?" she said, "Why, it's about the Snuffleupagus. Or more like about the worship of him by a group of people who've become disenchanted with a hardline consumer culture. You see, back in the early eighties, Kevin Kline and myself were working on the movie Sophie's Choice. It was a fun project, but off set, all we could think of doing was shopping. Kevin used to buy me the most beautiful things...dresses..shoes...golf clubs...but none of it really touched my heart. You know? Well..one day we were in a toy store and there was a television screen up by the ceiling, showing an episode of Sesame Street.

We watched the scene that was on. It involved Lord Snuffleupagus. We were so blown away by his humility...his succinct way of expressing himself verbally. We stopped shopping all the time then, and instead we would sit for hours, discussing our new hero until we fell asleep. He's given so many people so much peace, so much perspective. Well, listen. This has been great, but I have to be alone now."
The Church Of The Snuffleupagus runs until the 27th of August at The Gilded Balloon.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

In loving memory of Miles Lang

HARLEM, August 16, 2006 -- Like a hammer blow upon a helpless grape came the news that our brother Miles Lang has been taken from us and assumed into Lettsworld, a parallel universe on the far side of Dalkeith, near Edinburgh, Scotland.

As he entered the dank door of the next world, Lang was heard to say, "it can't be all that bad, can it?" after which there were distant screeches.

"He thinks it's just a temp job," snickered St Gerald of McColgan, "but in fact, it is a Way of Life. No, a Way of Afterlife. First we shall break his spirit with drudgery and then we shall apply the FT 2000 lb Compression Desk Diary. If he dare squeak, he shall be Spoken To. He shall be Spoken To twice in 2007: when U.S. daylight saving time begins; and when it ends. We have diaries, you know."

A spokesperson for Lettsworld, Ms. Plodette Rubberlegs, said: "I'm sure Miles Lang will be very happy here." Struggling to sit downstairs on the number 3 bus, she continued: "I'm sorry, my back... it's my back. If he ever needs any help, I can show him my holiday snaps from 1999, when I was guest of honour with that nice Mr Hussein in Iraq. And I am sure he will love viewing my slides from when I stayed with the Hitlers in 1935. I'm sorry, it's my back."

Dogbaste prowls city hill

BLACKFORD HILL, August 16th, 2006-- Today, a grey dog baste of giant proportions prowled the usually peaceful area at the top of Blackford Hill. Our London correspondent Joseph W. Walsh, visiting the city, observed the giant dog and recorded the following message while cowering in the long grass: "It's terrifying. Truly terrifying. I came up here for some peace. I'm not supposed to be working. That dog...if it really is just a dog...is freaking my wig completely. It keeps walking back and forth in that unfocussed, creepy way. I don't know when I'll get a chance to get out of here! Four King Hellllllll!!"
Walsh was last seen on Blackford Hill, swatting imaginary bats and delivering a monologue about Malaysian dialects.

Monday, August 14, 2006

Underpants of Doom

HARLEM, August 14, 2006 -- With nothing much happening, thousands of seconds ticked past during daylight hours in Harlem, next to what seemed to trained observers to be gigantic spools abandoned by an Internet-savvy Godzilla in this sunny ghetto.

Drink was taken and subways were left. A great trouserpress in the mind of our correspondent clamped shut on entirely fictional underpants of doom.