NEW DEVICE LETS PATIENTS SURF THE WAVES

A cutting-edge treatment for those suffering from Hamilton’s Peristalsis is set to undergo clinical trials at Froghill General next week.

If successful, the treatment will mask the symptoms of a debilitating condition which affects up to one in five people in this country.

Dr. Ann L. Svincter, consultant gastrosurgeon at the hospital’s Semi-Colon Unit, described the new treatment as ground-breaking.

“The new treatment is ground-breaking,” she said.  

Hamilton’s Peristalsis, a condition in which the wave-like motions of the intestinal muscles during digestion are massively exaggerated, causes discomfort and embarrassment to the sufferer. It can strike suddenly and without warning, causing its victim to jerk convulsively and uncontrollably from the waist down.

The cause of the condition is yet to be understood and there is no known cure.

“While we must accept that we cannot cure HP, we can at least offer a palliative to those afflicted with it,” Dr. Svincter told the Observer.

“To this end, we are trialling a device, the PeriTune 500, which aims to tackle the social stigma created by this unfortunate condition.”

It consists of a microscopic USB which has been pre-recorded with a medley of conga tunes. This is connected to a number of motion sensors and a small high-fidelity speaker.

The whole thing is no bigger than a pound coin.

The device is implanted into the patient’s digestive tract during a routine surgical procedure. Once fitted, the PeriTune 500 should cause no more than moderate discomfort.

When its motion sensors detect a peristaltic wave reading of 3 or higher on the Richter Scale, the device is automatically triggered. The patient then effectively ‘broadcasts’ conga music over a 50-yard radius.

Anyone watching will naturally assume that the sufferer’s pelvic jerking is a spontaneous reaction to the infectious dance rhythms.

Asked whether a burst of loud music might not draw even more attention to someone in the throes of an HP episode, Dr. Svincter paused for a moment.

“You know, you might have a point there,” she admitted. “However, any humiliation caused must be set against the fact that it would be bloody funny to watch.”

Clinical trials are scheduled to last three months.

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Sir,

I am newly resident in Froghill and am appalled by the number of abandoned shopping trolleys I see littering our streets. The other day, I counted no less than 76 trolleys on the brief walk between my home and The Meadows.

It’s bad enough that these trolleys are unsightly to look at. Far worse is the fact that they are physically abusive. On the day that I was counting, one actually had the temerity to follow me down the street and butt me from behind. I still have a bruise on my right buttock as a result.

It’s as if these trolleys know they can act with impunity. They hang around in groups, noisily clattering their folding infant seats, creating an obstruction and intimidating passers-by. They cross the road anywhere they choose, launching themselves off the pavement and causing traffic to take evasive action. How long before there’s an accident? 

I complained directly to the supermarket in The Meadows but was told: “The trolleys escape during the night, the best we can do is try to round them up during daylight hours.”

Why, I feel compelled to ask, are the police doing nothing about this menace to our society?

I believe a permanent solution needs to be found and found quickly, before spring brings the rutting season and the males become even more aggressive than they currently are.

Yours indignantly, 

Nellie Maynard (Mrs)

MISPRINT

Due to an editorial oversight, a misprint occurred in last week’s edition of the Observer. In a sports news item entitled Froghill Footballers To Tackle Burning Oil Rig, we referred to Kieran Duffle, centre forward for Cheetingham Athletic, as “firing off a spectacular shit which ricocheted off the crossbar and hit the keeper on the back of the neck”. That should, of course, have read “a spectacular shot”. We apologise to Kieran and the team for any offence caused.

OBITUARY

A  Swansdike man who was awarded the OBE for his services to stupidity has passed away at the age of 88.

Born in Hackney, East London, Ernie Skittles moved to Swansdike with his family at the age of nine. Always a keen adventurer, he set up the Swansdike Cycling, Rambling and Other Travel Experiences association, more popularly known as the SCROTE Club, in 1964. As its founder and chairman, Ernie personally devised and led activities as varied as cycling the Manchester Ship Canal underwater, scaling Ben Nevis dressed as a piece of cheese and travelling the length of the M4 blindfold on rollerblades.

Ernie succumbed yesterday afternoon, after a protracted battle with Dutch Elm Disease. He is survived by his wife Maureen and sons Genghis and Brendan.

All funeral enquiries to: Buried Treasures Funeral Directors, Froghill. Tel: 0372 52481.

BOUNCING BABIES BUT NO BOUNCING CHEQUES!

The Observer, in association with Sow & Gate baby foods, is offering one lucky family the chance to win big in our annual Bouncing Babies competition.

The fun takes place next weekend on Froghill Common, with the winner receiving a cheque for £1,000 plus a year’s supply of Sow & Gate products. Two runners-up will enjoy an all-expenses-paid weekend at an abattoir of their choice.

The competition is open to all babies under one year old.

To enter, simply bring your baby to the competition site next Saturday, October 12th, between 9am and 5pm. Register and weigh your baby, ascend the specially built 60-foot platform and then drop him or her down onto the trampoline below.

Each entrant will be judged on the best of three drops and the baby landing furthest from the trampoline will be declared the winner. That’s all there is to it!

In addition to the main event, you’ll find baby-themed activities galore. Why not give your little one their first taste of vindaloo at Baby Spice? Or treat them to the human cannonball experience by firing them from the Baby Boomer?

It’s not all about the infants, either. Teenagers will be able to enjoy a supervised all-night sleepover in the Michael Jackson tent and there will be free family planning advice available at Maybe Baby.

So come on down to the Common next Saturday - and may the bounciest baby win!

CONDITIONS OF ENTRY  

The Bouncing Babies competition is open to all Froghill district residents, excluding employees, families and relatives of the Observer and Sow & Gate Ltd.

Entrants must be aged one year or under at the time of entry. Proof of eligibility must be provided upon request.

Babies must be naked when dropped to ensure that no weight tampering has taken place. No bodily attachments will be permitted.

The Observer will not be responsible for any deaths, injuries, breakages, traumas, stress disorders, medical expenses, collateral damage or cleaning bills.

By entering the competition you are deemed to accept and be bound by these terms and conditions.

ADVERTISEMENT

IF YOU ARE HAPPY BEING POOR, DO NOT READ THIS!

Are you sick of just about making it from pay day to pay day? Do you worry about being able to pay your bills? Are you constantly in the red? Does the idea of Christmas and birthdays reduce you to panic?

Two years ago, I was just like you – a useless nobody: spotty, ugly, lonely and broke. I had no wit, no charm, no friends and a bad case of halitosis. I lived in a council house with an outside kitchen and an old Ford Capri up on blocks in the garden. I ate lard for every meal and was always behind with the rent.

Even working 80 hours' overtime a week, my job as a council excrement segregator barely made me enough to survive.

Now I have a 6-bedroom house, a Lear Jet, a Rolls Royce and a kidney-shaped swimming pool stocked with performing dolphins. I stay in 7-star hotels wherever I go. I can boast a magnetic personality, flawless looks and a gleaming smile. I have a beautiful Brazilian wife, good-looking friends and I’m on nodding terms with Liam Gallagher.

Now I know what you’re thinking. How on earth did I do it?

The answer is simple - I sold my soul to the devil.

Now many people think doing that involves going down to the crossroads at midnight and playing the guitar. Or reciting the words of the Lord’s Prayer backwards. Or chalking pentagrams on the floor while wearing goat’s horns. Well, they’re wrong and that’s why they’re still poor.

Only I know the secret of making a deal with Satan - but the good news is that I’m willing to share it with you. Once you know the right invocation, success will come just as soon as the words have left your lips.

Fame, success, wealth, beauty, a baby’s arm holding an apple – anything you desire can be yours for the taking.

So ask yourself this simple question: Do I Really Want To Be Successful?

If your answer to that question is ‘yes’ then don’t delay, send for my Faustian Pack today. It contains everything you need to summon up the Dark One and make him an offer he won't want to refuse.

Send £250 to Yes! I’m gullible!, PO Box 666, The Cayman Islands. Please allow at least 2 years for delivery.

WYTHERING WOMEN TO GO MENTAL THIS WEEKEND

An alternative therapies and spiritual awareness experience is to be held this weekend in Wythering.

On Saturday and Sunday, the Wythering Womens’ Institute will be hosting Unbalanced/Rebalanced, an event conceived in celebration of World Mental Health Day on October 10.

On both days, activities will include MDMA yoga, brain washing, dream bending, mung bean alignment and non-dairy mindfulness.

Across the weekend. there will also be specialist classes and workshops for which participants should sign up in advance.

On Saturday, there will be guided workshops on cerebral rehydration, pontius pilates, alpha wave redistribution, kinaesthetic dog walking and tantric crochet.

On Sunday, look out for sessions on polytheistic breathing techniques, bifocal chakra orientation, sub-dom aromatherapy, third eye astigmatism and karmic quilting.

Unbalanced/Rebalanced, 9am – 6pm, Saturday 5th and Sunday 6th October, Wythering Memorial Hall, High Street, Wythering.

Tickets priced at £130 (£129, concs and OAPs) available online at www.money4rope.com. Each participant will receive a free glass of prozac cordial on arrival.

THE CLASSIFIEDS

FOR SALE

Hen’s teeth. V rare. Various lengths, some molars. Could make into necklace or clichéd idiom about scarcity. £10 per tooth. G. Peck, phone 0159 2993.

Can of Worms. Unopened. £5 ono. Phone V. Wriggley on 0372 59241.

Whale Blubber. 2,500 kilos. White, finest quality, very oily. Ideal for lamp fuel or annoying environmentalists. Capt. Ahab, phone 0372 58859.

Acne Cream. Just rub it in and bingo, you’ve got acne!  £30 per tube. S. Muldoon, phone 0161 4122.

Gantry Crane. 21 feet high, 10-ton payload, lateral movement system, rubber tyres, sunroof. MOT until Feb ’20. Unwanted birthday gift. Offers? Stan, phone 0165 8341.

Rubber bung.  As new. Will fit aperture of  ¾ inch diameter. £17,500 or would consider swap for late-1960s Jaguar E Type convertible. 0165 8935, after 2 am.

Teapot. Earthenware, brown. Some stains. Handle, lid and spout missing, hence low price of £25. Phone 0372 54321.

Bootleg recording. ‘Kim Jong Un, Live in Las Vegas’. Songs include Rocket Man, My Way, The Final Countdown and Donald, Where’s Your Troosers? Phone 0165 8297.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

Lost: my virginity, somewhere in the Catchpenny Road area, last Saturday afternoon. Anyone finding it please phone 0372 57316 and ask for the Mother Superior.

The mind boggles. Mine does, anyway. How about yours? Why not call me and compare notes? N. Bonaparte, phone 0161 4724.

Are you methodical? Then let’s get together and let’s get organized. Sister Mattick, phone 0159 2759.

Jesus, are you coming back? If so, I have your wallet. Call me. Matthew, 0372 59417.

CROWN COURT FOR CLOWN, CAUGHT

A prankster who has been targeting innocent members of the public has been apprehended by the police.

Over the past month or so, his victims have been assaulted with a variety of objects, including foodstuffs, a rubber chicken and a squirting flower.

On two occasions, cryptic messages were left at the scene of the crime.

Now Bamboleo the Clown – real name Cyril Potts – has been taken into custody, following a successful sting operation mounted by Froghill Constabulary yesterday.

“Acting on a tip-off, we had one of our men pose as a window cleaner, working on a building in Cotillard Street,” said Detective Inspector Alan ‘The Hammer’ Hardman.

“As the officer bent over to rinse out his squeegee, the suspect emerged from a doorway, bucket in hand, clearly intending to douse him with confetti.

“That’s when we swooped. 

“It appears that the suspect was motivated by a grudge against circus owner Enzo Zeferelli and his activities were intended to tarnish the family name.”

The Inspector went on to explain how Potts, whose career with Zeferelli’s stretches back ten years, had formed a particularly close relationship with Leopold, one of the circus’ elephants.

An elephant which Zeferelli had threatened to have neutered.

Readers may remember Leopold as a highly excitable creature, who caused considerable damage last winter after he brought down the Big Top during a performance (Observer, February 6).

According to D.I. Hardman, having befriended Leopold and gained the animal’s trust, Potts set about ‘milking’ him for financial gain.

This practice involved Potts tiptoeing into the elephant's cage during the night. By placing a blanket scented with female elephant under the sleeping Leopold’s trunk, he would cause the animal to experience ‘exciting’ dreams.

Then, with the aid of a car jack, a bucket of lubricating jelly, a partially inflated rubber ring and a low-voltage electric current, Potts would skilfully induce the elephant to reach climax.

Asked why, D.I. Hardman responded: “He was bottling the animal’s semen and selling it.”

Elephant semen is highly prized in many Asian countries, where it is considered an effective cure for baldness, impotence, myopia, psoriasis and bow legs. Over the years, revealed the Inspector, Potts had built up a clandestine export business worth hundreds of thousands of pounds.

“However, two months ago, Mr. Zeferelli stumbled upon his little operation and threatened to neuter the animal in order to put a stop to it.

“And that’s what prompted Potts to take his revenge,” said the Inspector.

“The aim was to create such hostility towards Zeferelli’s Circus that the district council would revoke its entertainment licence, forcing the cancellation of the planned half-term holiday visit next month.”

Potts is due to appear before Froghill Crown Court next week, charged with multiple offences under the Gratuitous Slapstick Act of 1957.

The Observer says:

This report is symptomatic of a deplorable human tendency to use animals for the purposes of profit and entertainment.

By way of example, in the interests of promoting clean energy, we increasingly see pit bull terriers force-fed cabbage and Guinness so their accumulated flatulence can power wind turbines.

Who can honestly claim not to have experienced a momentary pang when, passing a wind farm, they glimpse Fido, high up on a gantry and whining piteously, his rear end clamped tight as his flatus rotates the blades?

In some countries, animal abuse is routine and widespread. Golfers in Japan use the egg-eating snake as a cover for their clubs. Muskrats, having exceptionally flexible rectal muscles, are much prized as slip-on shoes by the élite of Mexico City.

In certain parts of Africa, scorpions are reared on a diet of quinine and used by doctors to administer malaria injections. 

Here in the West, chic Parisian beauty salons press hedgehogs into service as exfoliant gloves and chameleons are given away free with LSD tablets in the drug deals of New York City.

It is this paper’s stated belief that only when we have banned animal exploitation in all its forms will we truly be able to refer to ourselves as ‘civilised’ human beings.

MP EXPERIENCES HEALTH SQUEEZE AT FIRST-HAND

Traffic was brought to a standstill yesterday following an impromptu personal appearance by Jacob Raynboe-Trowte, MP for Froghill.

Onlookers stared open-mouthed as Mr. Raynboe-Trowte, red-faced and breathing heavily, was seen to run pell-mell down Dinsdale Road.

More unusual still, the veteran MP was entirely naked.

“What with parliament being suspended, I thought this an ideal opportunity to spend time with my constituents,” said Mr. Raynboe-Trowte from his hospital bed, “and I was busy drumming up support with some of our dedicated workers in the health service.”

The Observer has learned that the workers in question were in fact employees of a noted town-centre spa and massage establishment.

“He’s my regular, is Mr. Jacob, he always asks for me” said Lola, 26-year-old therapist at Dinsdale Road’s Whole Lotta Rub, “he usually comes on a Saturday afternoon, if you take my meaning.”

When put to him that his use of the term ‘health service’ was a trifle misleading in this context, Mr. Raynboe-Trowte smiled weakly and replied: “OK, fair cop, you’ve got me there.

“However, I do find that a good massage helps relieve the stress and tension of a long week in the Commons.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I’d booked in with Lola last Saturday and was lying on the massage table, waiting while she was off warming her hands.

“I heard a slithering noise near the door and then felt this firm, sensual pressure slowly sliding up my body. I remember thinking it very erotic and that I ought to be extra generous with the tip this week.

“She applied a little more weight and I began finding it rather difficult to breathe. Then she wrapped one arm around my abdomen and started squeezing really very hard indeed.

“And then something warm and dry tickled my ear.”

That ‘something’ was in fact a tongue and it belonged to Monty, the fifteen-foot Reticulated Python, whose escape from Polly’s Pets in Station Approach was reported in these pages a little over a week ago.

“I looked round and there was this bloody snake, staring straight into my face and flicking its tongue at me.

“I tried to shout for help but I couldn’t, it was squeezing me too tightly, so I reached for the vibro-massager and bashed it on the head.

“That loosened things up a bit, so I wriggled free and got out of there, pretty damn quick,” said Mr. Raynboe-Trowte.

As he burst out of the door and ran screaming down Dinsdale Road, the panic-stricken MP’s towel dropped away, revealing an elephant’s face and ears drawn in lipstick around his private parts.

A passer-by, realising that this probably wasn’t a Conservative party fundraiser after all, put down her shopping and called the police.

The emergency services arrived within minutes and a police marksman promptly shot the naked MP in the buttock with a powerful tranquiliser dart.

As Mr. Raynboe-Trowte tottered and then passed out across the bonnet of a car, paramedics were on hand to stretcher him into an ambulance.

He was taken to the Accidental Constriction Unit at Froghill General, where he is expected to make a full and complete recovery.

Monty was tracked down and captured by a snake handler from the Wythering Animal Research Trust.

“Reptiles are cold-blooded creatures and Monty most likely chose the massage parlour because it’s a warm environment,” said Dr. Mortimer Pluck, Chief Veterinary Surgeon at WART.

“Though most people wouldn’t credit it, pythons are sensitive creatures and they get stressed easily. When Monty came to us yesterday afternoon he was in a state of considerable shock.

“We are currently holding him in an isolation tank so he can relax and ‘unwind’.

“That’s a joke, by the way,” he added, before informing us that he was a busy man and walking briskly away.

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Sir,

Things have come to a pretty pass when the people of this town cannot go about their business without being belted with a blancmange, a trifle, a spotted dick or a rubber chicken. And that’s not to mention a clown bursting into Sunday service and squeezing his bulb in front of innocent women and children.

And what, I ask you, are the police doing about it? In a word, nothing! Even the riddles – and the last one was utterly obscene, I might add – were solved by members of the public!

I spent over 45 years in the service of Her Majesty and let me tell you, we didn’t stand for this sort of nonsense in the army. Anyone who so much as put on a dab of make-up, let alone a wig, would have been bundled into the bunkhouse and had up by the Privates.

So come on, D.I. Hardman, live up to your nickname. Pull out your finger, apprehend this scoundrel and then bring down the hammer!

Yours disgustedly,

Maj. Redfers Nuthatch (ret'd)

STOP PRESS

The solution to the riddle on the paper dart thrown at St. Alfege’s church last Sunday is AN ELEPHANT. Froghill Constabulary would like to thank H. Poirot of Little Graysells Lane, Swansdike for his invaluable assistance.

A REVELATION AND A RIDDLE AT ST. ALFEGE’S

The clown whom police consider responsible for a series of attacks in the Froghill area has struck yet again.

The latest incident occurred during yesterday morning’s service at St. Alfege’s church, just as the Reverend Lionel Hassock had begun the week’s reading.

“My text was taken from Revelation, Chapter 8,” said the Reverend Hassock, “concluding with verse 13, which reads: ‘Woe! Woe! Woe to the inhabitants of the earth.’ I was intending to relate that particular verse to Boris Johnson’s tenure in Downing Street.

“I had got to verse 6: ‘Then the seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared to sound them’ and continued into verse 7, ‘The first angel sounded his trumpet….’ when I was interrupted by several loud parping noises, which seemed to be coming from the back of the church.”

Instead of seven apocalyptic angels, each equipped with a trumpet, the faithful of St. Alfege’s turned to find an odd-looking man brandishing a squeeze-bulb horn.

“He was dressed in a bowler hat, wig, baggy clothes and oversize shoes and shouted the words ‘Zeferelli is the spawn of Satan!’ three times in a loud voice,” said the Reverend.

“Then he bent down and squirted one of the congregation with water from a flower in his lapel.”

After launching a paper dart, which flew the entire length of the aisle and landed at the foot of the pulpit, the intruder turned and waddled out of the church, parping his horn as he went.

Quickly pocketing the projectile, the Reverend Hassock composed himself and continued with the service as best he could.

Unfolding the dart in the vestry after the end of service, the Reverend found himself staring mystified at the following:

WHAT’S GREY AND COMES IN PINTS?

Were you among the congregation at St. Alfege’s yesterday morning? Do you know the answer to this latest riddle? If so, contact Froghill Police on 0372 51111. Calls will almost certainly be recorded, as someone from IT has finally fixed the answering machine.

MONTY SLIPS OUT AFTER DENNIS DROPS IN

As the owner of Froghill’s most popular pet shop, Polly Parrotte is used to people coming through her door unexpectedly. 

Yet even the normally phlegmatic Polly was surprised at the visitor she received yesterday morning.

“I was just heating up the soldering iron to neuter one of the guinea pigs when there was this almighty bang,” said Ms. Parrotte, “and I looked up just in time to see a fireman bounce through the door and off the end wall.

“Luckily nothing in the shop got broken and his protective gear prevented him from being hurt.”

The fireman was Dennis Rapier, who had been continuously ‘on the bounce’ since a failed training exercise at the Montague Road fire station the previous afternoon.

“I called the station and his manager came to pick him up,” said the 38-year-old, “by which time, the poor man was sound asleep, he was so tired. We lifted him into the car and he didn’t even flutter an eyelid.

“I must say, I couldn’t help noticing that he had very highly developed thigh muscles,” she added.

Ms. Parrotte continued with her day and no more unusual events occurred. Until, that is, she came to close up at around 6pm.

“I was just putting the night covers over the cages,” she said, “when I noticed that one of the reptile tanks had been overturned. And worse, it was empty.

“I looked high and low but there was no sign of Monty anywhere.”

‘Monty’ is a fifteen-foot Reticulated Python, silver in colour with yellow and black zig-zag markings the length of his body. While non-venomous, Reticulated Pythons have been known constrict and consume cats, dogs, pigs and, on rare occasions, humans.

Should you come across Monty, do not approach him. If at close quarters, divert him with a family pet or small child and then move quickly to a place of safety.

Polly’s Pets, Station Approach, Froghill. Phone: 0372 52816.