News direct meets the bloke who just knocked on our door

The more perceptive of our readers will have noticed that there has been something of hiatus recently upon the esteemed pages of the world's favourite blog.
This, of course, wasn't due to laziness or a "I can't really be arsed with it, the people who read it are all a set of inbred misfits with the IQ of retarded kittens." attitude.

No! On the contrary! We have been silenced by a vast media conspiracy intent on protecting those spoiled decadent Hollywood stars from the searching penetrations of News direct's spotlight of truth, otherwise known as News direct meets.

We searched in vain for an agent, a publicist, a studio tea boy! Anyone who would give us access to the Hollywood A list but it was all in vain for we learned from various unconfirmed possibly made up sources that News direct was now on some kind of Hollywood black list.
Of course we had no idea what a black list was at first and just assumed it meant we got the first go at interviewing Spike Lee, Denzil Washington, Don Cheadle etc.

But no! No! We are banned!
Yes my dear loyal simple 12 toed reader, the entertainment elite that rules over Hollywood has banned your beloved News direct from interviewing anyone of any importance within any field of entertainment which as I'm sure you are aware includes film, TV, music, and of course our old friend the comedy network, Fox news.

As I'm sure you can imagine when we first heard the news we were devastated and contemplated committing a mass suicide in protest at the cruel and unusual punishment inflicted upon us by "The man" but by God we are British! We didn't lay down and die when Herr Hitler was sending his doodlebugs across the channel twice a night, there's no last chopper out of Saigon for us boys!

We decided to fight back!

Obviously we can't bring you the top flight celebrity interviews we have spoiled you with in the past and to tell you the truth we were at a loss as to who to shine our spotlight of truth upon this week until providence came forth and rescued this news based damsel by delivering to our door
Mr Odibeiche Sunday.

News direct- Mr Sunday, thank you for agreeing to speak to us at such short notice.

Odibeiche Sunday- That is ok Mr Direct sir. When I be out doing de work of da lord I will talk to anyone.

ND- What lord?

OS- De lord.

ND- De lord?

OS- Yes sir Mr Direct sir, de lord. De lord who be de father of dat baby Jesus sir.

ND- Oh dat lord.

OS- Yes sir Mr Direct he send me from far across da sea to bring you da good news that he is risen!

ND- Where you from?

OS- I am from Niger, Mr Direct sir.

ND- That's racist!

OS- No sir, it is my country

ND- You sure?

OS- Yes sir.

ND-I won't have racism.

OS- No sir

ND- Just as long as you know. So Sunday, when did you leave Ungo bungo land?

OS- Sir I am not from Ungo bungo land. I am from Niger.

ND-I have told you already!!! I will not have racism in this office!!!

OS- But sir.......

ND- No buts! Any more of that and I will ring the immigration office and have you sent back to Umma gumma land.

OS- Do you have a relationship wit de lord sir?

ND- Which lord?

OS- De lord.

ND- Not dat lord?

OS- No sir de lord

ND- Well I wouldn't call it a relationship, more a casual acquaintance we don't send each other Christmas cards but if we met in the street we would be cordial I'm sure.

OS-Well sir dis is why de lord sent me from nig.....

ND- Watch it!!!

OS- From across de sea to bring you de good news that his only son de baby Jesus is risen from de dead and he brings you salvati.........

ND-Nah I'm bored of you now.

OS- Pardon sir?

ND- This isn't doing it for me.

OS- But sir I am bringing you de word of da lord!

ND- I thought it was de lord!

OS- It is de lord sir!

ND- See even that "de lord, da lord" thing ain't doing it for me. I'm used to interviewing famous and interesting people........no offence.

OS- None taken sir.

ND- How about you pretend to be Snoop doggy dog????

OS- No sir dat would be dishonest.

ND-It's not dishonest.....look upon it like acting.

OS- Oh I don't know sir.

ND- Come on!! If you do I promise I will read the bible.........well I will watch Charlton Heston in the Ten commandments anyway. Is that a deal?

OS- But I am no actor sir.

ND- Just do your best for de Lord.

OS- Ok sir

ND- Ready?

OS- Yes sir

ND- So Snoop doggy dog it's good to finally see you back in the UK are you over here promoting a new album or do you have a new film coming out?

OS- Well sir I is over here with my good friend Charlie Brown looking for our little friend Woodstock so we can give him da word of de lord.

ND-No!!!!

OS- What is wrong sir?

ND-That's Snoopy!!!

OS- But sir that's who you told me to be.

ND-Jesus!

OS-Sir please do not take de name of de lord's son in vain or I will terminate dis interview forthwith.

ND- Alright I'm sorry. Look how about trying to be Fifty cent, you know the rapper Fifty cent?

OS- Oh yes sir I know de work of Mr Fifty cents very well, he is very famous in my country.

ND- Right ok you can be him.

OS- Ok sir.

ND- So Fifty great to see you! What's new in the world of gangsta rap, homie.

OS-Well Mr direct sir, I have come across from dat America to spread de word of de lord.

ND-No!!!!!

OS- What sir?

ND- You are fifty cent a gangsta rapper from the mean streets of L.A not St Paul!!

OS- But sir I am neither! I am Odibeiche Sunday! I told you I wasn't an actor sir! But you insisted sir! You made me tell lies in front of de lord sir.

ND-Look ok shhhhhhh stop crying. I am sorry. Would it stop you crying if I let you tell me about de lord? Would it? Would that make you feel better?

OS- Yes sir I think it would.

ND- Ok dry those tears mister! Cos I have a hankering to hear de word of de lord!!

OS-Well sir de lord he sent de baby jesus down to de eart............

ND- Nah, sorry I tried but I can't do it. You better leave.

OS- But sir you said.......

ND-Leave me now........I wish to be alone.

OS- But sir.......

ND- I said leave me now!! I wish to be alone with my thoughts.

News direct meets Mel Gibson

We here in the News direct offices have spent many, many, many, many, many countless weeks racking our collective brains to try to come up with a star interview that would be appropriate to this season of peace and good will and after considering and then rejecting, Vice president Cheney, the Yorkshire ripper's brother and Duncan from Blue, we decided to go with Mel Gibson.


News direct-Melvin, lovely to meet you I'm a big fan of your guitars.

Mel Gibson-I have nothing to do with Gibson Guitars.

Nd-So it's no good giving you this then?

MG-What is it?

Nd-It's the volume Knob that fell off my Gibson SG, I was hoping I could give you that and you might have one on you, a spare.

MG- I have nothing to do with the Gibson guitar company.

Nd-I had no idea you sold it, probably wise though I see the electric guitar as a fad give it a year and they will all be playing those tube things the elephant thing in the star wars canteen was playing.......what's that called?

MG- I have no idea.

Nd-I would have thought that even though you sold up, you would still keep abreast of all the latest technological innovations within the business.

MG- I have nothing what so ever to do with the Gibson guitar company, can we move on please.

Nd-Mel Gibson.

MG-Yes.

Nd-Why do you hate Jews? Is it because they crucified our lord Jeebus during the sacred Christmas feast of.............God...and the angels.

MG-I don't hate Jews I was misquoted.

Nd-I said that, I said as soon as I read it, I don't believe a man like Mel Gibson would hold an irrational hatred to any particular group of people, he probably just really likes foreskins and is quite disappointed with the Jewish ritual of circumcision......is that it Mel? You're a fan of uncut dick?

MG-I'm not a fan of foreskins, no.

Nd- Oh you like them without?

MG-I don't care! I have no interest in foreskins!

Nd-Oh so it was just that you hate Jews, It's a good job you live in Hollywood. Imagine if you lived somewhere you were surrounded by them, you would be like the least popular neighbour ever.

MG-Can we move on please.

Nd-Wow! You even hate talking about them, you must really hate them.

MG-Move on.

Nd-I bet every Halloween you are the first at the costume shop to get your SS uniform....or do you own your own?

MG-Listen buddy, one more Jewish question and I'm walking, capiche?

Nd-No, I don't capiche, not with my back but I do understand. No more Jewish questions.......we need a final solution to the Jewish question. No more Jewish quesss.....tio.....nsssssssss.

MG-Ask me about my latest film.

ND-Nah, not really a fan of your films. I like a film I don't have to read, I don't read books why should I pay a fiver to read a film? Do you make all your films in native austrailan as some sort of protest against the imposition of the English languague on your people?

MG-I am not Aboriginal.

Nd-Well no but it is very difficult to produce original work these days......you know what with the Je......the people who control Hollywood. (I winked)

MG- I said I'm not Aboriginal, not I'm not original!

Nd-I didn't think you were, I mean why would an abogdidigal start a guitar company.

MG- Jesus christ! I have nothing at all to do with the Gibson guitar company!!!!!!!

Nd-I know you said!!!!! You sold it!!! Funny how as soon as I came to you with a complaint and an obviously faulty knob it's all "I have nothing to do with Gibson blah blah blah"

MG-You better ask me about my new film or I am walking out that door right now.

ND-Pffff! Mel Gibson, what's you new film about?

MG- Well I'm glad you asked, it's the bloody story of a pair of Welsh Siamese twins who fight against English colonial oppression in the welsh homeland.

Nd- So it' s a kind of Braveheart 2, Welsh heart: The singing valleys of old Llandudno.

MG-No it's called "The bloody English shall die"

Nd-Well at least it's fair then, being English I just hope you give us the same fair treatment you gave us in Braveheart, Gallipoli and the Patriot.

MG- My job as a film maker is to show up the injustices of the colonial system.

Nd- So is your next project about the colonial policies of your adopted country?

MG-Next question.

Nd-You are famously Australian, why have you never appeared in Neighbours?

MG-My family moved to America when I was young.

Nd-Oh I thought it was because you are an abrodigital, and the producers are racists.

MG-For the last time I am not a fucking abrodigital...aboriginal!!!!!!!!

Nd-It's nothing to be ashamed of.

MG-I didn't say it was!!

Nd (whispering) Are they between Jews and the English on your "Who I really hate" list?

MG-That's it I'm out of here, watch your back mate!

Nd-Don't threaten me Mel Gibson!!!!! I'm not scared of you and your Opus Dei!!! Albinos hold no fears for me at all, twat!!!

Happy Xmas to all our readers (Obviously that excludes anybody from any law enforcement organisation, any bankers, stockbrokers or anyone affiliated with the international money markets in anyway shape or form, anybody who is now or has ever been a member of the conservative party or indeed "New" Labour. Anyone who doesn't like salted peanuts or thought that 300 was "Brilliant!", anyone who thinks tracksuits are appropriate day wear, any one from Lancashire and lastly but in no means leastly, Gavin Bricknell of 42 keesholme drive, Hull, east Yorkshire, England.)

Is there anybody there?

"Reports that say that something hasn't happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns -- the ones we don't know we don't know."
Donald Rumsfeld, chief chicken hawk and war criminal extraordinaire.

The world is a mysterious place, from the silent stone faces of Easter island to the careful precision of the Giza plateau mysterious mysteries abound.
Who among us does not have some strange tale to impart? For when the whole history and purpose of your species is a mystery one will obviously be attracted towards life's many "unknown unknowns"

It was in this spirit of adventure that News direct tasked me with solving one of life's greatest mysteries, the mystery of life after death!!!!!!
Careful research on the subject had led me unfailingly towards the bizarre practice of spiritualism, a Christian sect which became popular in the late 1840's using the writings of 17th century Swedish mystic Emanuel Swedenborg as the basis for a new variation on the ancient Jesus death cult.

Adherents to this new form of Christianity believed that by using a human conduit one could contact the world of the dead and receive messages and blessings from long dead loved ones and ascended spirit masters.
All over the western world spiritualist churches sprang into existence and lured the local populace into virtuous orgies of spiritual communication and relentless voluntary payments. But the craze was not just confined to the new back alley temples of the dead, no dinner party featuring the great and the good of society was complete without an after dinner cigar and a quick seance.
By the late 1920's the wild fire craze of spiritualism had all but burned itself out, but here in the north of England pockets of this craze survived through into the present day and evolved into the modern day phenomenon of the celebrity medium.

To learn more about the work of these modern day necromancers I arranged to meet Paul De la Higginbotham professional medium and the star of channel five's big new Wednesday afternoon hit "The dead say the funniest things!"
The meeting was to be at Paul's newly renovated large Victorian home on the outskirts of Halifax and as I walked up the long tree lined drive past Paul's brand new collection of high performance cars I couldn't help but feel a shiver of nervous anticipation and slight nervousness that he may have a spirit tell him private stuff about "what I like" in a "bedroom sense"

I reached the end of the long gravel path stood before his huge oak and stained glass door and tried to bury at the back of my head "what I like"
I pulled the long wrought iron chain by the door and from inside I heard the chimed consequence, moments later the door creaked open to reveal the blonde highlighted, pink suited Paul De La Higginbotham.
"Ohhh hello love, you must be the dreamboat from that Newsly direction thingimy bob interwebby jobby?"
"That's right, Peter Stock Aitken Waterman.
"Well don't stand out there in the cold Peter, come in!"
I wiped imaginary dirt from my shoes and squeezed tightly past my host who was politely holding the door open for me.
"Oops! Room for a small one!" He screeched as I made my entrance into a fabric bedecked hallway that closely resembled the set from some yet as unmade harem film.
"Just go on through into that room there on your right, yes that one. No dear the right."
Momentarily lost by my need to keep the secret of "What I like" secret I had forgotten which was left and which was right. Paul closed the heavy door and before the fabrics strewn across the hall could settle down he was behind me cupping a bottom cheek and steering me towards the room he had originally told me to enter.
"Ohh that's like a little rock cake."
I swerved my hips to remove his hand from my "little rock cake" and rushed into the room, waited until Paul took his seat and then sat as far away as possible from him and carried on working on hiding the secret of "What I like"

The room seemed to be a continuation of the harem theme I had encountered in the hallway. I gestured at the room with a nod of my head and said "Nice, you decorate it yourself?"
"Yes, decorating is one of my little hobbies"
"You're very good, I haven't seen this much purple velvet since I saw Barry White live."
"I wanted to create a environment my clients would feel comfortable in."
"Zebra skin can be very reassuring."
"Yes."
"So Mr De La Higginbotham..."
"Oh please call me Paul, you're not my bank manager."
"No I'm a reporter." I said puzzled.
"What dear? No you misunderstand me all I was saying was there is no need for the formality, we are all friends here sweetie."
I concentrated harder on hiding the secret of "What I like" and nodded at him. He smiled a sympathetic smile and we sat for a while in silence as I struggled and grimaced trying to bury the secret of "What I like"
He folded his delicately manicured hands across his already folded knee and ventured "So Peter my love, do you want to start this interview now?"
I uncrossed my eyes, shook my head, checked the secret of "What I like" was still buried and asked "Are oranges really not the only fruit?"
He looked somewhat taken aback and managed "Pardon?"
I cleared my head and then my throat "What?"
"What do you mean?"
"What?"
"You asked me if oranges aren't really the only fruit."
"Did I?"
"Yes you did lovey."
I shook the puzzlement from my face "Well I didn't mean to say that out loud, what I meant to ask you was how do you go about contacting the dead."
He made a visual effort to forget my verbal faux pas and said "Well ever since I was ten years old I have had an old Indian spirit guide who has become my channel to the other world and taught me the ways of the dead."
"He speaks English?"
"Yes."
"Do you find it hard to understand his accent? Mr Patel who runs my local corner shop has a very thick accent some mornings I just nod at whatever he says, actually thats why I have a five year subscription to dog care monthly, the professional dog groomers trade magazine. I don't even own a dog."
"No you misunderstand me lovey, he is a native American, not an Indian."
"Oh ok, whats his name?"
"Squatting beaver."
I laughed.
"What?"
"Squatting beaver!!!"
"Yeah, that's his name it's a very old traditional name for native American healers."
"You sure he isn't taking the piss?"
"I don't think so why?"
"Well beaver! Squatting beaver!"
"And?"
"Well beaver is a euphemism for.....you know."
He looked as blank as a new blackboard "No, what?"
"You know....lady parts."
He pursed is thin lips "Well I can assure you I know absolutely nothing about those!"
I nodded sympathetically in agreement with him "Yeah I suppose you don't."

At this point I felt I was losing him so I employed the old interviewers trick of pretending I was actually interested in what he had to say and asked "So this Indian fellow, crouching pussy, does he sort of line the dead up in queues and sort them out for you?"
"It's Squatting beaver!"
"Oh yeah sorry, I have a lot on my mind." I checked the secret of "What I like" was still safe and asked "So is he sort of like a feather strewn dead secretary?"
"No he isn't! And I would ask you to show an appropriate level of respect to a great teacher and healer or I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave!"
My trick hadn't worked as well as I'd hoped so I used the trick that works very well with angry women "I'm sorry please forgive me I have been an idiot, you are of course right."
His eyes softened "Ok but I would ask you please to show more respect for me and my spirit guide."
I became a picture of contrition "I'm sorry I honestly meant no offence to you or Crouching....."
His eyes narrowed into slit of suspicion, I verbally checked myself and after a quick check of the secret of "What I like" I continued "......Squatting beaver, It's just I'm new to all this and I'm always uncomfortable round minorities, I don't want to commit a racial faux pas and upset Mr Beaver."
He looked at me unconvinced "Squatting beaver isn't actually here right now."
"Oh where is he?"
"He is in the spirit world."
"The new off licence near the McDonalds on Equator street?
"No! THE spirit world!!! The place where all our souls go post mortem."
"Post what?"
"Post mortem!!!!!!"
"Third class post?"
"AFTER DEATH!!!!!!"
"Oh."

He placed a pale hand across his red brow "I think I have a migraine coming on."
I needed to get him back on my side quickly "Isn't cro....Squatting beaver a healer? Why don't you summon him up and we can kill two birds with one stone, I can get a look at how you do....whatever...it is....you ....sort of....do and while he is here he can have a go at your migraine."
He fluttered his eyes "Very well, I shall summon him from beyond the darkened veils of time and bid him to come forth into this veil of tears and so enlighten our mortal darkness with the brilliant light of his age old wisdom."
"And bring his "spirit pills" for your migraine don't forget that....you don't want him getting here and then having to go all the way back because he forget his migraine medicine.
Paul had closed his eyes and was now gently swaying side to side while letting out a low pitched "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.......OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"
I watched his performance open mouthed, checked the secret of "What I like" was safely tucked away and said "Blimey!"
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO......OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, OWWWWWWWWWWW....OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW"
"Blimey he's changed tone now!"
"OOOOOOOO.....Is there anybody there???? OOOOOOWWWWWWW"
I looked around "Yeah me, I'm here!"
"OOOOOOOO...Is there anybody there??? Knock twice for yes......once for no...OOOOOWWW"
I looked around me again, shrugged and knocked twice on the wall. Paul squinted open one eye and hissed "Not you you idiot! I'm trying to contact the other side!"
"Oh Sorry."
"OOOOOOOOOOO...Reveal yourself to me oh great Squatting beaver!!!! Use me as your channel into this world!!! Make me your spirit bitch!!!!!!!!!OWWWWWW"
As these last words dropped from his spittle flecked lips a strange calmness descended onto his face and a disquieting stillness filled his body. I looked around me, leaned forward and poked his knee "Paul? Paul?"
Paul placed a steady hand on each knee and in a strong manly voice quite unlike his own said "Paul is not here now."
"Who are you? The answering machine?"
"I am Squatting beaver, medicine man of the Lakota and fellow traveler of the great spirit bear."
"Oh right...errr.....cold out.....said on the news we might have snow."
The spirit Indian inhabiting Paul sat silently unmoved by my attempts at small talk. I decided to play along and question the Indian, after first checking that the secret of "What I like" was quite safe.
I put on my thinking face and after a few moments I said "So......Crouchi...errrr Mr beaver, How's the ..errr spirit world?"
Paul's beaver filled face didn't flinch and his lips hardly moved as he said "The spirit world never changes it is the one constant in this universe of eternal flux."
"Oh.....get out much?"
"What is your question for me."
"Oh I didn't really have one."
Paul sat impassively silent so I searched my memory banks for the eternal questions that plague man "Can Arsenal win the title this year?"
"This question that you ask can only be answered in the negative, to win this title you speak of they must first acquire a man who will stand firm and be as a wall against the tides of the sea."
"A defensive midfielder? That's a tenner wasted then, I knew 16 to 1 was to good to be true."
Squatting beaver fell silent again.
"Oh here's one, why did the chicken cross the road?"
"To get to the other side."
"Oh you've heard it."
"Yes I'm dead not daft."
"Soooooooooo....can't really think of nowt else I wanna ask you....unless you wanna give me the lotto results, do ya?"
"No."
"Thought not."
Paul's face twitched rapidly and let out a long sighed "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"
I looked around.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"
"Paul??"
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...OWWWWWWWWWW"
"Paul??"
"OOOOOOO" his eyes opened slowly and as they focused weakly on the room he weakly whispered "Was he here?"
"Who?"
Paul gave me a confused look "Squatting beaver? Did he come unto this plane of existence?"
"Oh him? Yeah."
"What message from beyond the thin veil of reality did he impart to us ignorant mortals?"
"Errrr...he didn't say much really."
"What message did he impart?"
"Nowt really just said Arsenal need a defensive midfielder. which, pardon my French, is more the realm of the bleeding obvious than the mysterious realm of spiritual knowledge."
"He didn't say anything else?"
"No not really."
"Oh he usually has some deep spiritual wisdom to impart."
"Must have been having an off day."
"Yeah maybe."
"Anyhow...I think that will be all I need Paul."
"Are you sure? I could get out my crystal balls and let you rub them."
"Errrrr....not right now thanks, I have a train to catch at a quarter past."

Paul walked me through the satiny silkiness of his hall and prised open the huge door for me "Well thank you for your time Paul and please Thank Squatting beaver for me."
"Oh don't mention it lovey, the pleasure was all ours, you just make sure you tell the world that we are here to help them along life's rocky path and to bring a little comfort into their grey pain filled existences."
"Will do." I stepped over the doors threshold and into the bracing afternoon wind. I turned back to thank Paul once more and was greeted by the sight of him holding his red tense forehead in one hand and speaking as though he was on the telephone.
"Ok....yep...ok I got it ...ok thank you Squatting beaver...yes I'll tell him...thank you lovey."
He removed his hand from his forehead and opened his eyes "Squatting beaver wants me to tell you to stop doing what you are doing, it's filthy and possibly illegal, so don't do it!"
As the shock seeped from my face I whispered in a hoarse voice "I don't know... what you're talking about."
"Yes you do you filthy sod!" And with that Paul closed the mysterious door of the spirit world and left the world with one more confused soul late for an early train.