Tabloids Category
The news as told by the UK’s tabloid press – The Sun, Daily Express, Daily Mail, Daily Mirror, Daily Star and News of the World.
Milk Snatchers
‘TAP! Tap! Tap! Thats the sound of those bureaucrats at the EU chipping away at our British way of life.
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It’s the creme fraiche man? |
Already theyve taken our patriotic pounds and our island-race inches and, buoyed by those successes, are now plotting to strip us of our honest pints.
The Mail says that the traditional pinta is under threat from the EU which wants to replace it with litre and half-litre bottles.
For your information, the Mail says that a half litre of milk is 64millilitres smaller than a pint for milk, prompting fears that customers will be short-changed.
Whats this about 64millitres? Has the world gone stark, raving bonkers?
Once the Mail goes the way of the metric masses, we are surely racing pell-mell to Hell in Marcels handcart.
For shame!’
Not So Fair Coppers
‘HANDS up who wants to join the Gloucestershire Constabulary. No need to put both hands up, just the one will do.
Sadly, there are just 192 vacancies, and with 301 applicants that means 109 rejects.
The Mail does the maths, and duly also notes that all 109 rejects are white men. The paper also notes that every black, Asian or female applicant has been invited for an assessment.
And the father of one of the male IC1 rejects is less than happy. Political correctness, I think they call it, says he. But I call it an absolute disgrace.
Having trotted out two of the Mails favourite phrases in quick succession, the paper gives the other side of the argument.
Readers hear that the Force is obliged by law to reflect the community it serves. And that means more black, Asian and women officers.
Assistant chief constable Michael Matthews calls it positive action. He says its the only realistic way of ensuing we maintain a diverse workforce that reflects the communities we serve.
And the result of this latest recruitment initiative is that for the 192 jobs on offer, 129 females and ethnic minority applicants and 63 white males went through.
Mail readers may well blanch still whiter at the results. But surely the paper has missed the biggest story arent we amazed how many non-white male applicants want to work for an institutionally racist and male-dominated police service?’
Celebrity Do Little
”I SOLD flowers. I didnt sell myself. Now youve made a lady of me Im not fit to sell anything else’ Eliza Dolittle (Pygmalion).
For flowers, read buds, as the Star shows topless Big Brother winner Chantelle Houghton partly immersed in a bath of water on its Page 3. (The Star is clearly ignorant of Chantelles post-win promise: You wont see my t*ts out after today.)
And for phonetics Professor Henry Higgins, read mo-del Caprice, whose performance on the hit TV show inspired Chantelle to give being a blonde celebrity her full attention.
Theres more from the woman the Mail calls the Eliza Dolittle of our age over in the Mirror, as the paper shows its readers a shot of Chantelle in her school uniform.
Of course, what with this being the Mirror and not, say, the Sun, Chantelle is wearing her school uniform at school, not in some fantasy detention with busty Nikki or any number of other Essex flower girls.
As the picture of a 15-year-old shows, she was once dark of hair. But thats as far as the change goes. I might be a celebrity now, says Chantelle, but Ill never change. I dont know how to.
Hence the Mails Eliza Dolittle take on Chantelle, a woman it calls natural and unexpurgated, who was herself with such a sweetly artless and unspiteful sang-froid that the viewing public…became entranced.
Chantelle needs to change if shes to survive in celebritys shark-infested waters. But how?
By her own admission, shes says she doesnt know how to change, which means shes in need of a tutor especially if she wants her new band Kandy Floss to make it big.
Perhaps Preston, her Big Brother co-star, himself a pop star, can tutor Chantelle in the ways of the pop warble? The Mail says shes all set to record a version of I Want It Right Now, the song she murdered on the show. So why not get help with the vocals, melody and harmony from someone in the know?
Or what about Simon Cowell? The Mail says Chantelle and the high-trousered one are discussing future TV projects.
The offers are bound to come rolling in for Britains blondest and newest celeb. And whether its championing motels (Chantelle is the face of Travelodge), singing or just being a celeb, well wager Chantelle is even bit a successful in her new career as Kerry Katona, Jordan, Jodie Marsh and many, many, more who dared to dream…’
The Big C Yer
‘WARNING: READING THE DAILY MAIL MAY BE HAZARDOUS TO HEALTH.
A selection of things that will kill you and yours from this weeks paper…
BLUNDERING DOCTOR GAVE BREAST CANCER VICTIMS THE ALL-CLEAR A radiologist at Trafford General Hospital and North Manchester General has made some terrible mistakes
Meningitis kills girl told she had an upset tummy Courtney Guy, 8, dies after GP misdiagnoses her illness
Impotence can be a sign of heart disease Study at University of Chicago hits suffering men with a double whammy
Patient killed by blunder in hospital lab Joan Jones, 76, was given the wrong type of blood during a routine foot operation
I was voted the sexiest woman in the world but then arthritis started to destroy my life Happy tales from the life of Kathleen Turner
Take one Michelin chef, and a cracked vertebra and a trapped never. Its a recipe for crippling pain Chef Heston Blummenthal relives the agony
They cut out my cancer-ridden gullet…and moved up my stomach to bridge the gap A day in the life of Kurt Hafner
They said I was clear of cancer, but hospital doctor had blundered Ruth Callaghan gives it to the Health Service
The delivery room dad who do more harm than good Researchers at the University of Bath and Imperial College London say presence of fathers in delivery room can increase anxiety and fear in mother
Postcode lottery denies cancer victims best care Where you live affects your chance of surviving cancer’
Opera Buff
‘THE closest most is get to opera is ordering in a pizza from Don Giovannis and listening to ads on the telly for beer and mouthwash.
But opera offers so much more than just heartburn. As the Mail reports, opera offers us the chance to marvel at the powerful lungs on the finest divas.
The paper produces shots of pneumatic divas Katherine Jenkins, Myleen Klass and Charlotte Church to illustrate how talented and versatile a girl has to be to reach the top notes.
Mail readers will doubtless be delighted to learn something new, to have their field of vision broadened by so much exposed talent. But not everyone is happy.
Blonde Russian soprano Marian Laslo refuses to take the plunge and show off her cleavage. When a recording industry executive suggested that showing more cleavage would do her career no harm she took exception.
I was raised to conduct myself like a lady and have no interest in compromising those standards to achieve a short cut to fame, says she haughtily.
She goes on: The market is full of blonde classical artists with their cleavages on show.
To prove this point, the Sun produces a helpful double-page spread entitled: TOSCAS OUT FOR THE LADS.
This potted guide to the opera world features the aforesaid big-chested Welsh warbler Katherine Jenkins, who is given a PAVA-TOTTI RATING of an impressive five musical notes.
We also learn that blonde sexy Shawna Stone makes opera buffs quaver, Charlotte Church looks like shes got a couple of big hits and opera babes Karen England and Rebecca Knight have twin peaks that hit all the right notes.
But while the Suns readers learn to appreciate the sopranos middle C to high Cs, they are taught that opera is not all about the busty blonde babes – opera can just as easily be about fuller-figured brunettes.
So there are pictures of Lesley Garrett and Angelina Kalahari. And theres a shot some woman called Pavarotti, who looks like she possesses a voice that can shatter crystal, opera glasses and patio doors.
And a cleavage that seduces fame…’
Street Cred
‘ONE way to tell if an item is hip or not is to see how popular it is on the street.
The good news for you hip iPod owners is that your musical player is hotter than a wasabi enema. The bad news is that you might not have it for much longer. As the Mail says in a bald headline: Street crime soars as iPods tempt muggers.
The paper has seen a Home Office document that shows street crime rose by 11 per cent between July and Septembers 2005, compared to the same period in 2004.
And the Mail says this surge is partly down to the popularity of the iPod.
And its partly down to ineffectual policing. As the paper also notes, the arrival of Community Support Officers has had no effect on crime and anti-social behaviour.
The thinking was that a visible CSO presence would deter hoodies, happy slappers and other villains from committing crime. Theyd see some pretend policeman sneaking about the precinct dressed in his day-glo yellow bib and think better of vomiting over the fake cobbles.
But even though the statistics indicate that robberies and street attacks are more popular than last year, Home Office Minister Hazel Blears says that CSOs have been ‘effective in tackling low-level crime, disorder and anti-social behaviour.
But, it seems, they’ve not been effective enough. And at a cost of what the Mail calculates to be at least £50million so far, CSOs might not be good value for money.
Indeed, it might be better if those millions were spent on cutting crime in a far more radical fashion give every youth an iPod.
Thatll lean em…’
Red Or Dead
‘WE are not worthy. But no matter – pop singer Bono is more worthy than the rest of us put together.
In his mission to save the world in pink-tinted glasses, Bono is launching a fashion range that will help the fight against Aids.
Weve come up with a sexy, smart, savvy idea that will save peoples lives, says Bono in the Sun, displaying a rare mastery of the language of marketing.
Its conscious commerce for people who think about their spending power and say Ive got two jeans I can buy. One is made in Africa and is going to make a difference and the other isnt. What am I going to buy?
Hmmm? Its a tough choice. Do you go for the jeans made in an impoverished part of the world or get the branded ones made in a sweatshop in mega-rich China?
Good job Bonos on hand to help us decide…’
Eviction Night
‘COR! What some people will do for Palestine, eh? Anorak Towers was fully manned last night as we hit the phones and did our bit for the Middle East peace process by having George Galloway outed like a LibDem leadership contender.
However, all was for nought. Our toil was, sadly, in vain. Galloway has clearly tapped into a rich vein of emotion and we found to our eternal disappointment that the Big Brother eviction phone lines were jammed.
George might not have got our vote, but we are delighted to help the cause and see what the papers are saying about the man who dared.
And the word on the Stars street is PRAT. In a front-page piece entitled PRATS YOUR LOT, the Star says that Galloway faces ruin.
The 51-year-old MP was evicted form the Big Brother house to a chorus of boos and the news that he now faces a probe by the Serious Fraud Office.
Not since viewers watched former England football manager Graham Taylors career implode in a fly-on-the-wall documentary has a man been so destroyed by the magic box.
But the camera never lies, and the Star says that having seen Galloway in action, in a red leotard, in a box-cut leather jacket and in middle-aged denim, he is the most hated celebrity in the history of the Big Brother show. Thats some title.
But before George can cash in his notoriety and appear in pantomime as Aladdins nemesis Abanaza, or advertise cat food, he surely needs to relinquish his current job as a paid up member of the political elite.
And the Sun is happy to facilitate his change of career. NO RESPECT, screams the papers front-page headline, 25,000 call for hated Galloway to resign as MP.
It seems 25,000 Sun readers gave signed a petition calling on Galloway to resign his seat. The petition calls on Parliaments Standards Commissioner to investigate Galloway over his grotesque behaviour on TV.
Much as wed like to see Galloway embark on his new career as the face of Go Cat Tuna Herring and Vegetables we struggle to see how wearing a toupee, dressing up as Dracula and smoking bar him politics.
Indeed, looking at the Tory benches – featuring the likes of Michael Fabricant, Michael Howard and Ken Clarke we suggest Galloway has just hitched his colours to the wrong mast.
With 64.7 per cent of the popular vote behind him, Galloway may yet flourish in the hallowed halls of Westminster ’
Home From Home
‘ENCOURAGING news for George Galloway. Iraq may no longer be able to offer him a safe haven, but the Mail has found somewhere that should have him.
The place is called OGLE-2005-BLG-390Lb.
Little is known about the place. And we are uncertain how well Georges bristling moustache will be received by the locals. As we say, this is no Iraq.
That’s the bad news. The good news is that scientists have yet to spot any inhabitants on the plant thats a mere 20,000 light years away.
And the good news just gets better as the Mail reports how the planets atmosphere and mass make it the most Earth-like planet yet found.
Other key facts that may help George prepare for his new home are that the planets rocky surface is believed to be immersed under a blanket of ice; its five and half times the size of the Earth; it orbits a star five times smaller than the sun.
Such are the facts. And if this planets not to George’s liking, Professor Keith Horne, of St Andrews University, says the plan is to find more habitable planets like our own.
Says he: If the abundance is high, the next step is to search for life on those planets.
Or, failing that, to colonise them with Galloway and Pete Burns ’
Nurture Over Nature
‘ITS winter. And its cold. Two facts which those of you with GCSE geography (you know who you are) may view as entirely unrelated.
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An occulded front |
But to the Express, cold weather in the depths of winter is hot news. The paper warns its readers that the gypsy armada sailing in from the east – the one carrying the fluey birds – is being powered by icy Siberian air.
Things are cold and they are going to get colder. Best wrap up. Best not to do as Angelina Jolie does and arrive at Londons Heathrow Airport wearing a short top that rides up over your pregnant tumtum.
But what Angelina loses in geography, she more than makes up for in the Latin module. As the Sun shows, Angelinas naked tummy carries a motto.
Ad majorem Angelina gloriam, the words written in greenish ink across Angelinas exposed midriff read: Quod me nutrit me destruit. Words there that we can call learn from.
But what do these words mean? The Sun, ever eager to educate its readers in arcane language (See Richard Littlejohn), tells us that the phrase translates into English as What nourishes me also destroys me.
We hope this is no cry for help from the embryo that lurks within Angelinas literary belly.
We also hope that when passing through the UK, Angelina reads the Expresss big news that its cold here. And, if the Sun is right and the Brandgelinas are heading to Davos, Switzerland, for the World Economic Forum Angelina is a UN Goodwill Ambassador we warn her that it might be colder still high in the Alps.
Angelina is a bright girl and we are sure she will learn from her London experience and cover up her protruding belly while in Switzerland.
Why, she may even become something of the geography expert, especially when after her pregnancy her tattoo has stretched and sagged.
Then the words will no longer be words theyll be isobars…’
Bomber Harris
‘HOW well do you know your birds?
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It might be an arm to Tim, but to Harris and her chicks it’s lunch’ |
The Sun ponders the question. It considers the evidence. And it concludes that the bird on the left is a lesser spotted Becky and the bird on the right a greater crested Danni.
Correct. And correct. But there is more to birds than the big chested variety.
As the Mail reports, birds come in all kinds of shapes and sizes. Some have feathers, four-foot wingspans, talons, beaks and an appetite for small boys called Timothy Mills.
Theres nine-year-old Timothy in the paper, his newly scarred and scabby face appearing alongside a shot of what the Mail confidently says is a Harris Hawk.
And around both shots of boy and bird is the story of how Harris bombed Timothy as the lad cycled in Marton, Blackpool. Harris swooped on the boys head and sank its talons into his face.
To prove how bad this attack was, the Express invites Timothy to hold up for the camera the bloodstained England rugby shirt he was wearing at the time. Job done therapist booked – Timothy tells all.
It was horrible, says he. Its talons were all over me on my forehead, my cheeks, and just under my eye.
Happily, the bird was not as strong as it thought it was and Timothy was not carried off to its nest to be devoured by young birds, known in the ornithology world as chicks.
The hawk, a captive bird, has now been put down.
But surely this is a cautionary tale, an ugly portent of things to come. Whether by flu or direct assault, birds are turning on humans.
Its time to take cover under a small boy…’
Pebble Dashed
‘WHERES the trust these days? Four MI6 spies posing as Foreign Office Officials in Russia have been caught red-handed collecting information. Fair enough.
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The rock knows all |
But did the Russians have to film them going about their undercover work and then broadcast the footage to the nation?
How dare the Russians suspect us of spying. Arent we all friends these days, sheltering from the threat of terrorism under a big Eurovision umbrella? As we ask, wheres the trust? Russia: nil points.
Oleg Gordievsky, a KGB officer who defected to the West, is heard by the Mail saying that the film is a sign of the Russians desire to hurt Britain, its an advertisement for the KGB.
Its view shared by Alex Standish, editor of Janes Intelligence Review who says its naïve not to see the operation as a public relations exercise for Vladimir Putins government.
Or it might just have been a chance to inject a bit of winter cheer into the Russian peoples hearts, a kind of Rosa Klebbs Home Videos.
A look at a still from the video suggests that the four-strong British spy squad were not all that good at their jobs an idea supported by their capture.
The thinking is that the spies would store their information on handheld devices then, when wandering past a covert boulder on the outskirts of Moscow, flick a switch and retrieve and transmit vital secrets.
Yes, a boulder. So as you know, this is a dead letter drop, a place where sources can leave information without ever meeting an agent.
The Express says the information might have something to do with non-governmental organisations – the MI6 team are accused to channelling funds to human rights groups in the area.
But while the voiceover on Russian TV warns of nefarious foreigners, the pictures tell a different story.
The Express publishes a shot of one of the four, Andrew Fleming, wandering past a rock in which a hi-tech transmitting device has been stored. He then logs on by drawing back his right leg and giving the rock a kick.
While the Russians talk of danger, the need for vigilance and the enemy in our midst, the pictures show a bumbling spy checking the robustness of his equipment with a kick.
Another shot, this time in the Sun, shows one of the cunning crew lifting up the stone as if its, well, hollow. Another agent is seen standing close to the rock and pretending to nonchalantly wee against a tree otherwise known as Agent Bark.’
Princess Of Whales
‘THE tale of Wally the Whale was ever a London story.
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‘Is this the Princess Diana fountain, mate?’ |
Had Wally gone sightseeing in New York, hed have been seen as an illegal alien and taken to Cuba for questioning; in Tokyo hed have been diced into cubes and dipped in wasabi; and in Pairs hed have been given a medal and put in charge of the EUs fishing policy group.
In London, Wally could be himself. Sure, a crowd formed on a few of the bridges that span the Thames and along the rivers banks, but they were casual observers, killing some dead time.
Apart, that is, from the team of volunteers who jumped into the chill waters and tried to save the whale.
We are not heartless here at Anorak Towers, and would dearly have loved Wally to have survived. But we cant help but think Wally should have been left alone.
It might have been her dying wish to see London before she died. She had only to swim on a little further to realise her lifelong dream of seeing the home of her beloved Fulham FC when she found herself strapped to a stinking barge and heading for Tilbury.
Wally died within sight of the open sea. She has been sliced up for medical research. The Sun says her bones will be presented to the Natural history Museum. How very humane. How very caring.
As such, we like to think that in some small way Wally has had the last laugh. The Mail says that all Wallys rescuers got for their efforts was a flurry of parking tickets.
Three members of the British Divers Marine Rescue Group were given tickets for leaving their vehicles near Albert Bridge.
WHALE RESCUERS FINE 300 SQUID, puns the Sun, tallying up the fines.
We trust these fines will be paid. And that the money spent on a fitting tribute to Wally. How about a sign at the entrance to the Thames. Something like Abandon hope all ye Whales who enter here should do it.’
The Accidental Tourist
‘OSAMA bin Laden got it wrong. Just when he thought the time was ripe to reappear before the West, albeit in simple audio form, a news story blasts him from the pages.
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There be sharks |
Better had the bearded one entered the Big Brother house, professing to do for militant Islam what George Galloway is doing for Palestine.
But Bin Ladens moment back beneath the limelight has been brief, cut short by the arrival of a bigger news beast. Please be silent and honour the memory of Whaley, the whale who saw London and died.
Yes, Whaley. Thats what the Mirrors finest and most creative thinkers have named the Northern Bottlenose Whale who left her normal habitat to go sightseeing up the Thames in central London.
Why did he die? asks the Mirror over a double-page spread headed FAREWELL TO WHALEY.
Not being animal experts, we cant be sure why the animals heart gave up. The Mirror, however, has a go at establishing the truth. It says Whaleys death may have something to do with the disorientating effects of a recent series of military explosions close to the Thames estuary.
It might also have something to do with Japanese, Norwegian and Icelandic whalers chasing such beasts in the name of scientific research.
It just might have had something to do with the fact that the whale was followed up the Thames by a flotilla of boats, forced to beach and lifted onto a grotty barge.
Whatever the cause, be it one of those or something else, the Mirrors conscience has been pricked. The body might be dead, but the memory lives on. So the Mirror has adopted a whale to keep the spirit of doomed Thames visitor Whaley alive.
The Mirrors whale is a male humpback. Hes been named Big Ben for obvious reasons, although Maxwell would have been equally fitting.
And while we look forward to the day when Ben leaves his natural habitat in the North Atlantic to make a visit to the Mirrors offices in Londons Canary Wharf the paper says high water at London Bridge is at 06:49 we wonder about Whaley.
Is Whaley the best we can do? The Mail thinks not. TV events that unite a country are rare… says the papers environment editor. But Willy the whale gripped the nation.
Thats a much more skilful piece of writing that the Mirrors minnow of an effort. In one move, Whaley has been renamed Willy and elevated to the pontoon occupied by other mass-appeal TV leviathans, like JRs shooting, Princess Dis funeral and the aforesaid Galloways feline frotting with Rula Lenska.
Problem is that in the rush to emote, the Mail and Mirror have erred. The whale was a girl, a fact noted by the Sun which names her Wally.
Wally, eh? Thats a name that should resonate with the gentlemen of the Press…’
Eat The Rich
‘YOU might not be invited to dine with the Queen on the occasion of her 80th birthday, but you can have a say in what she and the chosen few will be sinking their wooden teeth into.
The Express says that the BBC has devised a TV show in which you the viewers will be able to vote on what you think her Majesty should chow down on.
By way of research, weve taken the liberty of visiting a care home of the elderly and noted that the typical 80-year-olds diet consists of reconstituted meat products, boiled sweets and the contents of unmarked cans donated by local schoolchildren at last years Harvest Festival.
But this is the Queen; her dinner will not be prepared by Meals On Wheels, but a bunch of the nations celebrity chefs.
Each of these 14 Wozzas will cook a four-course meal. The hoi polloi will then be invited to pick up our phones and choose the best starter, fish dish, main course and dessert from the selection.
The ensemble of delights will then he fed to Liz at a dinner hosted by the London Lord Mayor, David Brewer.
While the Queen thrills at the idea of being turned into a reality TV show, Jay Hunt, controller of BBC Daytime, bubbles like a microwaved pot of baked beans.
Its fantastic that the best of the best, as chosen by the audience, will then be tasted by her Majesty the Queen, says she.
But great as it undeniably is, surely the Queen must be a little concerned what we will decide she eats.
Anti-royalists may be tempted to see her presented with a simmering plate of fox a la mode and roast Northern Bottlenose Whale in aspic.
The one limitation is that all the food must be sourced from local ingredients.
Which again may be bad news for the Queen – forced to make do without her customary plate of kochschinken washed down with a litre of Black Tower…’
Bugging Out
‘ANORAK rarely if ever takes sides in the biggest debate of the day, preferring to act as a mere conduit through which you can hear the story, assess the facts and reach your own conclusions.
So it is out of a sense of duty that we cast our eye to the goings on in the Celebrity Big Brother house and hear what scruffy popstar Maggot has to say on the hairy matter of George Galloway.
Having been nominated for eviction by the sitting MP, the Sun hears and notes Maggots reaction: I want to hammer his head into the f****** ground. He is a f****** w*****.
As we say, we just relay the facts and afford you the time to mull them over, and work out if you agree or disagree with the Welsh rapper…
We could not possibly comment…’
Spy In The Sky
‘GIVEN the vast sums of money spent on buying and selling weapons and war machines, the Sun may have erred in publishing the address of where British inventor Geoff Hatton keeps his new flying machine.
As the Suns advertorial-style blurb boasts: The ultra-manoeuvrable craft, which can hover and turn in tight corners, could also be used in the examination of bridges and minefields.
No government in its right mind would not want to get hold of such a device. You can forget weapons of mass destruction, nuclear bombs and anything else currently available in the Acme Weapons catalogue, and know that this is the future of warfare.
And the even better thing about it is that it looks like a flying saucer. Its both useful and cool. As far as we know this is the only flying saucer of its kind in the world and there could be any number of uses, says Geoff excitedly
And Geoff is not without ambition. Though the craft is small and unmanned, Geoff plans to have built a manned flying version by 2008.
This is terrific stuff. The bulldog spirit of daring and innovation that gave us the Spitfire, the bouncing bomb and red routes lives on in Geoff.
But if you cant wait to get your hands on the must-have weapon/toy of Christmas 2008, the Sun gives its readers a few clues to how you can build your own.
Geoff employed the Coanda effect, named after the Romanian engineer Henry-Marie Coanda. This states that a stream of air blown over a curved surface will stick to it – making the air pressure under the object lighter. Get it right and the saucer will lift.
Alternatively, you could just pop along to Geoffs tiny shed-like workshop in Star Road, Peterborough, Cambridgeshire. And make him an offer he cant refuse ’
Rough Justice
‘THE plan to take a child from his parents to prove that a child needs his parents was, on the face of it, deeply flawed.
But perhaps the four Fathers 4 Justice plotters who hatched a plan to kidnap Leo Blair were thinking bigger.
Might it be that they would kidnap Leo Blair, not to return him to mum and dad unharmed a short while later, but to raise him as their own?
After many years had passed, the kidnappers would unleash Leo upon the world. Hed be a dysfunctional, dejected and maladjusted teenager. There! theyd say. Thats what you get for hanging around with four men who like to dress up. Kids need stability in their lives.
We will never know how the plan panned out because it was stopped in its infancy.
Indeed, so early was the plan to kidnap Leo scuppered by Special Branch officers that Leo was never in any danger. The cops didnt even have to make any arrests.
To help explain why, the Sun hears from Graham Manson, a member of the Fathers 4 Justice splinter group The Real Fathers For Justice. Speaking of the four would-be kidnappers, Manson says: They were told by SO12 officers that they knew what they were up to and that they would be shot if they tried to carry out their plan.
Noting stops a crime like a policemans bullet. But its hard not to imagine the F4J gang cursing their luck that when their plot was discovered they were all dressed as cuddly old Father Christmases; had they been wearing their bullet-proof Batcapes, they would surely have laughed in the face of such a threat.
As it is, all the plan achieved was a scoop for the Sun (FATHER XMAS FOR JUSTICE), a piece in the Mail entitled Sinister, sexist and scary, the men in the superhero costumes, and the groups fonder, Matt OConnor, telling the Express that Fathers 4 Justice is no more.
The plot to kidnap Leo Blair has, in OConnors words, undermined the position and credibility of the organisation.
Quite so. Its hard enough to appear credible when youre stuck on a Buckingham Palace window ledge dressed in pair of Batman pyjamas without the added complication of having to dandle the Prime Ministers youngest on your knee.
OConnor a man the Mail says frequently cheated on his ex-wife, who kicked him out when he failed to return home on Christmas Eve 1999 – goes on say: Anyone who thinks its a good idea to kidnap a five-year-old boy needs to have their head looked at.
Indeed. But first they have to remove their cowls…’
Beat It
‘SHOULD we put more bobbies back on the beat? asks the Express in its phone poll.
To put the question in context, know that it appears embedded in a piece on how beat officers cut crime in one dilapidated part on Manchester by 40%.
Its a tricky question. And while villains pick up their stolen mobile phones and dial the No number, the Mail tells us that not all cops want to go out.
Im not coming out, says the headline above the story of what happened when Ian and Sandra Robinson tackled four youths they spotted kicking the wing mirrors off their car.
The couple confronted the car breakers, who responded by laughing and sauntering away. So Sandra and Ian got into their car and gave chase. They soon caught the wrongdoers, trapping them outside a police station in Holyhead, Anglesey, North Wales.
It seemed like a stroke of luck. They knocked on the door of the station. They rang the bell. They pressed the buzzer. And for fifteen minutes they waited for the long arm of the law to reach out and haul the youths inside.
But nothing. We were desperately trying to get into the station and kept ringing and ringing the buzzer, says Mr Robinson.
Eventually, the door opened. An officer beckoned Mrs Robinson inside. This left Mr Robinson outside to deal with what he calls three angry and desperate yobs. Understandably, he released his grip on their hoods and let them go.
A spokesman for the police says in the Express (Hero battles thugs as police refuse to help) that the officer was on his own, his colleges having been despatched to an incident in a nearby town.
And he couldnt just open the door to just anyone not in this day and age. Not with all the crime that goes on…’
Baby Bouncers
‘PAPERS! demands the boader guard. The traveller stares ahead, unblinking. Papers! Still no movement.
Then a small crease forms around the potential terrorists eyes. She starts to turn pink. Then red. Then a deep and beetroot purple. She seems to suck all the air from the room. She begins to wail, kick and thrash about.
It didnt take much to crack this potential drugs smuggler. But, then, she is only four months old.
Looking at her papers, prized from her surprisingly firm and sticky grip, we note, as the Mail does, that she travels under the name Bethany Thomas.
Her mother is called Mandy. Her father is known as Gwyn. And she has a brother called Geraint. At time of writing thats all the gang members known to the authorities. But it is likely Bethany has grandparents, aunts and very possibly a third cousin twice removed living in the Tipton area of Leicester.
What Bethany does not have, however, is a left earlobe. Well, not one visible on the picture Mandy sent along with Bethanys passport application forms.
Which means the photo was in breach of Rule 13 of the 16 rules that must be adhered to when applying for your official travel documents. The application was refused.
If Mandy and Gwyn want to take their children to Menorca they must resubmit Bethanys documents including a picture of their youngest, earlobes and all.
As the guidelines clearly state, applicants must show their full face, with a neutral expression, with their mouth closed.
Problem is that Bethany keeps on opening her mouth to breathe, smile, burp and scream, sometimes all at the same time.
And thats when shes not begging someone to feed her addiction to milk…’
Heroes & Villains
‘WOULD it surprise you to learn that the Father 4 Justice group has, what the Sun terms, a lunatic fringe?
According to the groups website, F4J is a new civil rights movement campaigning for a child’s right to see both parents and grandparents.
The site proudly boasts that it comprises Fathers, Mothers, Grandparents, Teachers, Doctors, Company Directors, Policemen, Barristers – a complete cross section of society.
Of course, these are just the personas used to cover the members true identities. In reality, they are superheroes who think noting of donning their capes and cowls and scaling the London Eye, St Pauls Cathedral and Buckingham Palace to prove that dads are vital in building a, er, stable home life for little Armani.
But now the Sun says police have foiled a plot that would have been the groups most daring caper yet.
PLOT TO KIDNAP LEO BLAIR, announces the Sun on its cover page. The paper says that sympathisers of the F4J group planned to snatch five-year-old Leo, the Prime Ministers youngest child, and hold him as their hostage. They would keep him for a short time and release him unharmed.
We do not know how the fanatics planned to take Leo, only that they did. As a security source tells the paper: Fortunately we think we have nipped this in the bud at an early stage.
That was lucky for Leo a boy who has all the superhero he needs in the shape of his dear old mum. And lucky for the would-be perpetrators of this crime.
Had the men in masks attempted to grab Tonys youngest, theyd need to have moved faster than a speeding bullet to avoid the volley of shots being fired at their persons.
So says Andy McNab in a piece entitled Idiot dads lucky they were not shot dead.
SAS hero McNab, a man every bit as shadowy as the Fathers 4 Justice Penguins, Riddlers and Jokers, says any attempt to snatch Leo would have been met by instant death.
If theyd gone ahead, theyd be lying dead on the ground with bullets in their heads. He goes on: I can guarantee these mens plan would have failed.
Or would it…’
Up With The Jailbirds
‘MOST of us will never enjoy a stay at Her Majestys pleasure.
Until binge drinking, smoking and using mobile phones in public places become criminal offences punishable by a spell in choky, only a small percentage of us will know what its like to be locked up in jail.
But take it from one who knows that prison is something best avoided. Anne Owers, Her Majestys Inspector of Prisons, is of the opinion that, despite appearances to the contrary, prison is no 1950s holiday camp.
Leading a study into life at the Category-B Leeds Jail, Owers asked the inmates to discuss things they didnt like about prison.
After much deliberating, and a full and frank exchange of views, the lags decided that some staff were not respectful towards them.
Owers agrees. We heard too many staff referring to prisoners as bodies or cons, says she. The Express hears Owers say that this is outdated and disrespectful terminology. To bring the vernacular into the modern era, dissing the homeboys is wack.
And then theres what Owers calls the overly regimented regime in the segregation room, where prisoners who break prison rules are sent.
As Owers says in her report: Prisoners had to be up and dressed by 7:30am and make an application if they wanted a shower. The prisoners complained that is they werent up and ready in time they would be barred from taking part in the days activities. As the Expresss headline says: Let crooks stay in bed.
Naturally enough, Owerss observations have not gone down well with everyone. This is political correctness gone beserk, says Brian Caton, General Secretary of the Prison Officers Association.
Why should prisoners get a lie-in when the rest of us have to get up for work? asks Norman Brennan, director of the Victims of Crime Trust.
We are uncertain how to best answer Mr Brennans question, and can only suggest that the prisoners have got things sussed.
Indeed, it might be time you thought of a career change. As you make the long march from bed to bathroom at some ungodly hour, imagine how much better life would be if you took up a new challenge, like bank robbery. And how great your life would be if you got caught…’
Bill & Coo
‘YOU cant trust a parrot. They will always talk.
Take the Suns story of an African grey called Ziggy. Ziggy is a talented bird. He cant play guitar but he can sing like a canary.
Ziggy lives with his owner, Chris Taylor, and Suzy Collins, Chriss girlfriend of two years.
Just listen to what Ziggy says when the phone rings. Hiya Gary, says Ziggy as Suzys mobile trills. Hiya Gary. Hiya Gary. And so on.
And thats not all. When the name Gary is mentioned on TV or the radio, Ziggy makes kissing sounds.
As the Mirror reports (PILLOW SQUAWK), Chris thought it was a hoot. I just dismissed it as something hed picked up from the telly. I thought it was hilarious.
But Chris was wrong. Gary was not a name chosen at random – Gary was the name of Suzys pretty boy lover. Things came to ahead when Chris and Suzy were cuddled up on the sofa and Ziggy blurted out I love you, Gary.
Suzy blushed a deep beetroot red. Suzy cried. Suzy confessed to a four-month affair with a former work colleague called Gary. Suzy was shown the door.
But if Ziggy planned to get rid of cheating Suzy – I couldnt stand Ziggy and it looks now like the feeling was mutual, says Suzy – it was a plan that backfired. Ziggy didnt know when to stop. He kept banging on about Gary this and Gary that.
As Chris tells the Mail: I couldnt get him to stop saying that bloody name. It felt like Id been stabbed through the heart every time my phone rang or he heard the name on the telly.
So Ziggy followed Suzy out of the door. And, wed like to think, into Garys waiting arms…’
Breasts Of British
‘BEING a Page 3 stunna is about so much more than possessing a fine brain, political acumen and the ability to summarise the days key news story in a single speech bubble.
(Today, Zoe, 24, from London, says in the Sun that Sven Goran Eriksson has been stupid getting involved in another scandal.)
Its often get this about posing topless in your knickers. Zoe manages to pull this off with rare aplomb. But even she knows that a stunnas time at the top is short. Zoes rise to fame will, in all likelihood, begin to dip with her assets. Indeed, unless Zoe can marry a footballer, releases a pop single or defy gravity, we fear she will soon be replaced by a younger, perkier mo-del.
But there is an alternative solution – Zoe could have plastic surgery to enhance her ambitions. It worked for Katie Price, whose gargantuan Jordans have propelled her to fame and fortune today, in extracts from her autobiography, shes telling Sun readers about her addiction to outdoor sex with husband Peter Andre.
And these days going under the knife is no big deal. The Mirror says that last year 5,646 women copied model Jordan and had their breasts enlarged, up from 3,731 in 2004. Breast augmentation is the most popular form of cosmetic surgery in the UK.
But be warned. Being Jordan is not for everyone. And for every apparent tale of success there is a horror story the Mail cannot wait to relay to its readers.
So heres Sally James in the Mail to tell the world about how the results of her cosmetic surgery were devastating.
James appeared on the reality TV show Cosmetic Surgery Live, the programme that allowed viewers to watch surgical procedures on the magic box.
James opted for a face and eyelift, hoping that they would help relaunch her into telly stardom. But the surgery left her with dropping lower eyelids and a constantly watering left eye.
While such a look would make her a shoo-in for a presenting job on Animal Hospital, James was less than impressed with her new look.
Now firm for face, James says she would never have cosmetic surgery again. She warns that many people are wooed by the fact that cosmetic surgery seems to be commonplace these days.
Indeed. Look, there it is in the Sun, the Star, the Mirror, the Mail, the Express…’
The Law’s A Drunk With A Cow
‘TIMES change. And the law of the land changes to reflect the changing times.
But sometimes the old laws remain on the stature books. As the Express reports, more than 2,000 obsolete laws have been repealed since 1965.
But more than 4,000 Public and General Acts, 11,000 Local Acts and 13,000 Private Acts dating back to before 1801 remain in force.
That a law is old should not by definition render it useless. The Ten Commandments have been around for some time and continue to form the bedrock of our judicial system.
But some laws are patently antiquated. Like the 1324 stature that says all whales washed up on the coastline have to be offered to the Crown. Fourteenth Century England was a very different place to todays Blighty, predating the arrival of sushi bars and Greenpeace.
And the Town Police Clauses Act of 1847 outlaws the beating of carpets before 8am. Other laws, as stated by the Mail, ban us from being drunk in charge of a cow, sliding on ice and flying a kite.
Kevin Martin, president of the Law Society, is right when he says that such laws demonstrate the constant need to renew and update the law.
So to enter into the spirit of the thing, here are a few new laws wed like implemented: London cabbies should remain mute when operating their vehicles; Chelsea FC should be sent to Siberia; and our MPs should be selected on how well they can impersonate an excitable cat…’
