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.

News direct meets Sir James Dyson

After the humiliating debacle of the Reese "Chinny" Witherspoon interview I am pleased to be able to announce that News direct is finally back on track interviewing the people that matter, the movers and shakers of our 21st century world.

Today's honoured guest is none other than Sir James Dyson, inventor of the.....coloured plastic vacuum cleaner and other coloured plastic ...errrrr....stuff.
Not useless stuff though like, Oh I don't know, a signed DVD copy of legally blonde 2.
No! Sir James Dyson invents stuff! Well not so much invents stuff as copies stuff already invented in funky coloured plastics.
Which is why it is my immense pleasure to welcome Sir James dyson to News direct.

News direct- Sir James, your worship, such a great pleasure to meet a man of quality for a change. You wouldn't believe some of the people they make me interview. Not quality members of the aristocracy like you my majestyiousness.

Sir James Dyson- Please call me James.

Nd- Oh thank so much your holiness...oops, James. It really is a pleasure to meet you ....James...sir.

SJD- Thank you. Can we get a move on I'm flying to Shanghai this evening.

Nd-Oh of course your lordshipyness, I mean James......... Jimmy. Jimbob. The Jimster.The Jimeister........ The Jiminator, you know like the terminator!
Obviously I'm not saying you are an evil cyborg sent from the future to destroy mankind!
You're not are you?

SJD- No I'm not. Can we get on please?

Nd- Get on what? Oh sorry "get on" as in get on with the interview. I thought you wanted us to ge....anyway, where did I put those quessssssss.............tions? Where did I put themmmmmmm.
Can you stand up a minute please your Jimmyness?

SJD- Why?

Nd- I think you're sat on the in depth interview I prepared.

SJD- You mean this crumpled piece of paper is your "In depth interview"?

Nd- Yeah, can you just pass it over please? Thank you your lordshipness......ness.

SJD- Jesus!

Nd- Jesus? I thought you said it was Jimmy?

Nd- No I didn't say it was Jesus and I didn't say it was Jimmy either!

Nd- You did! When we first started you said "Don't call me your holinessnessnessss, call me Jimmy boy or Jimbo, as in Rambo."

SJD- I said call me James.

Nd- Well anyway lets not quibble over names and titles, we all have them. I was voted third best robotic dancer at the Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi school of advanced wood working and embroidery. You don't hear me bragging about it and insisting people use my "Official title"
We are quite alike you and me Jimcat.

SJD- Can we get on please, I really do have to be in Shanghai this evening.

Nd-Hey what would you call Shanghai, if it had like no tall buildings?

SJD- Pardon?

Nd- What would you call Shanghai if it had no tall buildings? It's a joke, go with it you'll love it!

SJD- I don't want to go with it.

Nd-You don't want people to think you're a man with millions but no sense of humour do you? Go on enjoy yourself, you've worked hard you deserve at least some fun. Go on.

SJD- Ok I don't know.

Nd- Don't know what?

SJD- Your joke thing.

Nd- Do it properly!

SJD- I don't know, what would you call Shanghai if it had no tall buildings?

Nd- Lowhai!!!!!

SJD- What?

Nd- Lowhai!!! Oh no ... Hang on I got it wrong, it should have been Shanglow!!!!!!

SJD-Ok.

Nd-Shanglow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SJD- Yeah very good.

Nd- See what I did? I changed hai at the end of Shanghai into low! Shanglow! not "high" low!!! No tall buildings! low!

SJD-Very clever.

Nd- It was wasn't it! The way I changed it round like that, I'm really good at stuff like that.

SJD- I'm very impressed but could we get on with the interview, I really do have to be in sha...

Nd-Shang....low?

SJD- Well done, yes.

Nd-We better push on then if you have to be in.....Shanglow this evening. We can't have you late for....Shang.....low!

SJD- Stop it now.

Nd- Sorry.

SJD- Questions?

Nd-Right, wheres my bit of paper? Right then lets get started! Jimmy me auld mate Jimmy, What first gave you the idea to make yellow and grey Vacuum cleaners you could see through and sell for an absolute bloody fortune?

SJD- That wasn't what I did.

Nd-Yes it is.

SJD- No it's not.

Nd- Is.

SJD- I invented a revolutionary bagless vacuum cleaning system.

Nd-That's what I said.

SJD-Just move on, next question.

Nd-Next questionnnnnnn......el nexto questerinooooooooo.........let meeeee.......seeeeee. Ah yeah heres one under the strawberry jam stain. What is the funda..mac funda... mutionn? Fundicaltick, no. Can you see what that says?

SJD-Where?

Nd-Just there written underneath that inconvenient jam stain. I swear I will sack that secretary one day! Grrrr.

SJD- "What is the fundamental urge behind invention?"

Nd- Errrr...is it showing off to girls?

SJD- What?

Nd-The fundamental urge behind invention, is it showing off to girls?

SJD- Are you asking me or telling me?

Nd-I'm asking you, I think, I'm not sure I'm lost.

SJD- Well if someone were to ask me that question I would have to say that I believe the fundamental urge behind invention to be the quest for unknown knowledge, a desire to seek out and create solutions to the problems we all face in our everyday liv.........

Nd-Like the ape in "Dr Snugglesworth's big adventure"

SJD- Pardon?

Nd- Like the ape in "Dr Snugglesworth's big adventure."

SJD- What?

Nd- You said the fundamental urge behind all invention is the desire to seek out unknown knowledge.

SJD- Yeah.

Nd-Like Dr Snugglesworth.

SJD- Who's Dr Snugglesworth?

Nd- The ape in Dr Snugglesworth's big adventure.

SJD-And why is this relevant?????

Nd- Well Dr Snugglesworth was an inventor too, He invented a machine that could take him anywhere in the universe that had bananas! Come to think of it I think the fundamental urge behind Dr Snugglesworth's amazing inventiveness was the urge to eat bananas! That crazy ape would swap his own top hat for a banana!

SJD-Right that's it I have had enough now, I really can't waste anymore of my time talking to you! I have to be in Shang....

Nd-Low???

SJD- Idiot!

Man! I feel like a woman

Sometimes mother nature can be a cruel and sadistic jester. We have all seen the photos of two headed piglets, hair covered babies, bearded ladies and perhaps most disgustingly of all, the nine legged Octopus.
Although most people are familiar with these types of accidental oddities, they do still have the power to shock and repulse us for somewhere deep within our primitive being we unconsciously think, there but for the grace of god go I.

But what about the mistakes of nature that aren't as obvious or as visible as a six testicled dog, a black orange or a carrot shaped like Toulouse Lautrec?
What about the psychological typos mother nature has made on the great key board of life?
The psychopaths, sociopaths, bipolars, anorexics, schizophrenics, multiple personalities, neurotics and Manchester united fans?
What about these poor unfortunates? Are we as a society meant to ignore them, lock them up or ridicule them? Or are we as human beings meant to care for these people as we would a dog born with two dicks?

We here at News direct believe that every living creature upon this small blue planet of ours deserves respect and understanding and it was in this heady atmosphere of the nobility of life, that News direct sent me forth into the world to discover everything I could about that most misunderstood of creatures, the Transsexual.

Of all natures freaks, transsexuals are probably the least understood by the general public. In ancient times, as in modern, they were often castigated and shunned by their uncaring communities.
That is not to say there were not places within the ancient world that did not shun these poor unfortunates, Asia in particular had vast pockets of transsexual friendly territory.
Indeed in some places within ancient Asia this toleration gradually evolved into veneration, these half male, half female creatures became living symbols of the duality of nature and the perfumed examples of the ying and yang concept prevalent in many differing forms across the continent.

When early European sailors first made contact with these exotic lands they were amazed and then mystified by these strange temple denizens, so much so that early accounts of them are said to have been the basis of the mermaid myths, for the humble sailors not having adequate words to describe what they had seen could only whisper in shocked fascination about a creature they had seen with the top half of a woman and on the bottom just a huge powerful tail!

So it was with this same sense of awe and a little trepidation that I began my research into the curious phenomena of the modern day transsexual.
Untold hours of internet research had thrown me from Chix wit dix.com to bedicked bitches! and then perhaps most bizarrely of all to a site devoted to lovers of narcoleptic ladyboys called Tranquil transsexuals.com.
Although these vast repositories of free girly boy filth gave me some idea as to what I was getting myself into it was not really the angle I was searching for, for as regular readers will know, we here at News direct are nothing if we are not sensitive.

This is why I was delighted to come across (No pun intended! No really! I hadn't even realised it was a pun! I hate puns, they are so easy to throw out there. I would never pun during a serious investigative story like this one. To fill this article with filthy puns and sniggering knob gags is way below my dignity and anyone who suggests I would deserves nothing but my contempt and never ending enmity.
That's the trouble with people nowadays, all they want is cheap degrading puns and childish knob gags, well I for one don't believe that's what the internet is for, I believe it is here to nurture us and lead us with digital dignity into a dazzling future of byte based knowledge. It wasn't like this in the beginning you know, the internet nowadays is just full of sick perverts and Star wars geeks not the noble seekers of truth, justice and knowledge like you and me, no most people are only online for the German pissing porn and pictures of cats dressed as Hitler.)
the website of an organisation called Time for a change! Which as their website said was "A charitable organisation set up with donations from the United nations, The European union and various Transsexual porn companies all with the intended aim of making transsexualism more acceptable within the mainstream of society."

The international headquarters of Time for a change! was located in the picturesque olde worlde charm of a Doncaster industrial estate, just off the A630 near the new carpet warehouse show room.
The headquarters was not what I was expecting at all, instead of a modern steel and glass office building with smiling receptionists and bland corporate art, all I saw before me was a small factory unit on a wind swept industrial estate.
But closer examination of the plaque confirmed to me that this was indeed the world headquarters of Time for a change!
There was no door as such so the conundrum of where to knock was solved by me banging my cold hand on the large roll down metal door before me.
Until my banging was rewarded with the sound of gears followed by the slow upward scroll of the aluminum wall.

As the wide door inched slowly upwards I bent myself double and tried to steal a glimpse of what I would soon be granted for free, but disappointedly all I could steal was the sight of a cold concrete floor and a shiny pair of red six inch stiletto heels crushing the lipsticked filter of a now smoked cigarette.
Two long minutes later and the door had crawled high enough for me to bend underneath its corrugated facade and meet the stilettoed chair woman of the charity, Miss Fontana St Clairveux, a statuesque six foot five blonde wearing a tiger print mini dress and a warm red smile.
"Mr Astley?" she asked in a pleasant dark brown voice.
Standing straight, I thrust my hand straight into her large paw and said "Yes, please call me Rick."
Miss St Clairveux smiled a slightly amused max factor smile and waved her huge hand in the direction of a old sofa crammed into a small corner of the large lock up "Would you like to take a seat Rick?"
I looked across the frozen concrete floor to the surreal homely corner and then managed to nod before making my way across to the sagging leather settee lit only by a single standard lamp.

I sat down at the closest end and then grabbed the arm tightly and bounced up as Miss St Clairveux placed her self heavily next to me.
"Oh sitting right there are you?" I smiled, nervously.
"Well I feel it's more intimate don't you?" She said as she twirled the hair above my ear with a red painted nail.
I leaned my head away from the toying nail and after clearing my throat said "Well yeah It's certainly....errr intimate, is it hot in here or is it just me?"
Her red taloned hand stroked heavily upon my thigh as she sighed a marilynesque "Well Mr Astley, some like it hot."
I looked round the room, hoping for a glance of some unknown rescuer I knew would never race across the pitted concrete and whisk me away to a land were uncomfortable situations are known only in fairy tales and myths.
"I don't" I squeaked, while trying to remove the hand now tightly gripping my inner thigh.
"You don't what Mr Astley?"
"I don't like it hot."
"I'm sure there were a lot of things you didn't like until you tried them."
"Nope everything I didn't like before I tried it, I didn't like after I tried it either, with the exception of spam and peanut butter fritters strangely enough."
"Come come Mr Astley, I'm sure a man like you could get to like most things if you just had the courage to try them."
"No I'm quite set in my ways, I still refuse to call marathons, snickers, thank you anyway."
Miss St Clairveaux leaned in even closer and for a moment I felt the moistness of a warm lip on my ear before she breathed into it "I'm only teasing you Mr Astley, you're not my type at all."

The deep rumble of her laughter echoed heavily through the lock up as she shuffled her self up to the other end of the sofa "I'm sorry for teasing you, but I just wanted to dispel the notion that all transsexuals are voracious man eaters out to corrupt innocent straight men."
I wiped my sweat laden brow with my jacket sleeve "Oh yeah I knew what you were doing, as soon as you started I thought to myself, I bet she is trying to dispel the notion that all transsexuals are voracious man eaters out to corrupt innocent straight men."
"Well Mr Astley, you are obviously a man of the world."
"Oh yeah, I've been around, I was in the boy scouts for ten years. You don't spend ten years in the forces without learning a thing or two about the world!"
Miss St Clairveaux leaned forward and I quickly leaned back "I do like a man in uniform."
Still leaning back I managed "I'm not in the scouts now!"
"Shame."
"I had to leave after the incident with the scoutmaster's poodle, a Polaroid camera and a loose woggle."

After ten more minutes of me putting Miss St Clairveaux at her ease I began to delve into the intricacies, secrets and mores of the transsexual world.
"So when did you discover you were a woman? Did you realise suddenly that you like to talk a lot and buy shoes?"
"No I didn't just discover I was a woman, I have always been a woman."
I gave her a puzzled look before the clarity of understanding drifted across my features "Ohhhhh I feel such an idiot!! I thought you were a tranny!!!" I moved closer up the sofa towards her "I thought because you were running this tranny thing that you were one! And you must admit you are quite a big girl! Jesus I feel such an idiot! I do like it hot!!!!!"
"You misunderstand me Mr Astley What I meant to convey to you was that even when I was very young I always felt like I was a girl trapped inside a boy's body."
"Oh right, so you are a tranny?"
"Yes Mr Astley I am a transsexual."
"Oh in that case I don't then"
"You don't what?"
"I don't like it hot."
"You see Mr Astley, this is what my organisation is all about. We want to dispel the common myths associated with transsexuals and present ourselves to the world as we actually are, just normal everyday people."
"Oh ok, so what did you do before you......errr you know......you becam....decocked."
"Well before I began living full time as a woman I was in a very high powered testosterone fueled business making high powered life and death decisions everyday, oh and by the way I haven't decocked."
"What did you do?"
"I was a junior colourist at Toni and Guys in Rotherham."
"Why haven't you decocked yet"
"Not all transsexuals.....decock, as you so delicately put it. I enjoy having a cock and would be lost without it.
"But what about doing...sex, you know if you wanted to do it with a ....you know ...a man."
"Well that is why I had my balls removed and my scrotum made into a vagina."
"You had your sac made into a vagina?????"
"No you idiot! You see this is the kind of ignorance we are constantly fighting against."
"Yeah I knew that I was just giving you the chance to demonstrate what it can be like, you know when you have to talk to idiots and people who aren't very smart and stuff."

Miss St Clairveaux smiled and then with a hand swept casually through her long blonde hair she asked "Is that it Mr Astley? Do you need anymore?"
"Errrrr no not really, If I do need anything else I'll just do what I usually do."
"Get back in touch with me to arrange another interview?"
"No I'll make it up."
"Oh right."
"Fancy a quick pint?"
"I'm a lady I don't drink pints, but I will join you for a banana daiquiri and Taboo splashed with Cointreau and Malibu in a tall glass over ice."
"You're on! But you're buying and if there are any hot chicks in the pub, your my sister right."

Meeting Miss St Clairveaux taught me that when all is said and done people are just people, some are tall, some are short, some are ginger, and some even have one leg. But overall the biggest lesson I learned from my meeting with Miss St Clairveaux was never try to out drink a transsexual, they drink like squaddies.

Great figures in history-Julius Caesar

Today's proud recipient of News direct's probing historical attention is none other then that slightly balding fascistic member of the homicidal Julia clan, Gaius Julius Caesar.

Gaius Julius Caesar was born in the small market town of Rome just outside the cosmopolitan city state of Hull in the year 100BC. Julius's father, Dave Caesar, was at the time of Julius's birth known to have been running Rome's largest greyhound painting business and as such was revered and respected as one of the Republic's leading business men.

It is said that on the storm wracked night Julius was born his nervous father was trying to keep himself busy painting a black greyhound white, when all of a sudden a flash of slick lightening strode down from the angry night sky and split the now white greyhound into two halves.
A toothless old woman who had seen the greyhound electrically halved was said to have cried out "Wooooooeeeee is Rome!!!! For tonight a boy child is born who will make it his business to split any greyhounds he finds into two separate halves, whether they wish to be split asunder or not!!!!! This the gods have decreed."

The old woman was obviously drunk or mad, or possibly both, but the anecdote does give us an idea of the fear and superstition that clung to the young Julius from the very first moments of his fateful life.
We next encounter young Julius at at the tender age of seven where he is happily engaged in the traditional Julia clan business of Hedgehog grooming, It is known from the historical record that in 107BC the future genocidal maniac and sex addict supreme had made the princely sum of seven Denarii from his spiky grooming. To put that amount into some sort of modern context one Denarii is roughly equivalent to one million US Dollars. So as you can see young Caesar had even by this early age acquired enough money to fund his nascent political career.

On the occasion of his tenth birthday his father had presented him with a shiny new gold greyhound and told the young Julius that to make your way in the cut throat world of Roman politics one had to assume the trappings of power before one could actually taste the seductive sweetness of real power. In Rome Perception is power and wealth is but a means towards the perception of power, but perception is also power if one perceives any real perception of real power.
So it was with these wise words, no doubt still ringing in his ears, that the now twelve year old Julius proudly rode his slim golden greyhound through the ramshackle streets of Rome towards the sturdy oak doors of the senate and his date with with political destiny.

Just two short weeks after arriving in Rome the youngest member of the Julia clan was declared Pro-counsel and as such the de facto head of the whole Roman state, which at this time stretched from the east Yorkshire coast right the way across to what is now Leeds.
One of Julius's first acts as dictator was to invite his great friends Marcus Licinius Crassus, the poorest man in Rome, and Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, the fattest coward in Rome, to share his new found power with him.
The three best friends were so inseparable that they were known around town as the three amigos.

It was during this somewhat idyllic time that the young Caesar acquired the musky reputation as a sexual deviant and prematurely bald Latinate womaniser. Graffiti found on the walls of a McDonald's in ancient Pompeii Paints Caesar as a "Cum monkey and titty hound" The exact meaning of these ancient appellations have been lost but I think there is enough there for us to be sure that Caesars reputation was widespread and from all accounts well deserved.

But as we all know a life of wine, women and song does not come cheaply and three short years after arriving in Rome Caesar was totally bereft of funds.
After casually frittering away a series of family loans the young shiny headed tyrant decided there was nothing for it but war with the neighbouring kingdom of Gaul.
It was there over the next six weeks that the now fifteen year old Julius made himself secure for life on the blood and gold of over thirty two million unarmed Gauls, it was for this glorious episode that he is still admired today as one of the greatest military commanders in the history of the world.

Tired of slaughtering Gauls and now used to the adulation of blood crazed troops, Julius's gold filled thoughts eventually turned to home and the idea that his new found wealth might persuade the staid old senate to declare him king.
After all, he reasoned, he was quite good looking, had killed loads of people and a crown would cover up his bald head without arousing the suspicions a badger skin wig would.
Once decided upon this course of action Caesar was resolute in his fierce determination to be declared king of all Rome and nothing or no one could stop him, you could say he had crossed the Rubicon.

Upon his arrival in Rome great crowds of plebs had lined the streets chanting "We want a baldy king! We want a baldy king!" it was on the tide of these great chants that Caesar had been borne like a prematurely bald piece of flotsam right up onto the main floor of the Roman senate.
Where he delivered the greatest piece of oratory ever recorded, although I'm afraid we cannot reproduce it here as this great moment in political history went completely unrecorded.

It was said that when Caesar finally stopped speaking after over seven and a half hours of exclamations, pleadings, justifications and exhortations there was a complete silence for a full two minutes before a voice rang out from the back of the chamber "Get him!!!!"
And with this lusty battle cry all 400 of Romes distinguished senators fell upon the shocked would be king of Rome and tore him into pieces so small that a watching Greek philosopher, Democritus, was later able to formulate the first theory of atoms.

So there you have the tragic story of Gaius Julius Caesar of the clan Julia, a man not content with the meager trappings of shared power and hair on the sides of his head, here was a man who wanted it all, gambled and lost for there is an ancient saying that goes "They who the gods want to make mad, they first make bald."

News direct meets Reese Witherspoon

As regular readers will know we here at News direct are continually striving to give our valued readership the very best in not just global news and opinion but also top notch interviews with the world's movers and shakers in the fields of politics, art, science, show business and sport.

So it is a little embarrassing to have to announce that todays interview is with Hollywood "super star" Reese "the chin" Witherspoon.
I know the majority of our readers will no doubt exclaim, like I did when I found out I had to interview her, why the bloody hell would anybody want to any spend time reading about chinny ?????
And the answer to that is, if you don't you're sacked! Which I guess isn't much of a threat to you the reader but it did make a big difference to me, anyway here it is.


ND- Reese Witherspoon. Hollywood actress, fashion icon, girl next door, blah blah blah. Alright?

RW- Gee I'm like soooooo happy to be here in London, this city just rocks. I love those beef eaters and Carnaby street and ohhhhhh my god those red buses are like faboulous!!!! I'm just soooooooooooooo excited. I was like doh!!!! Reese this is like London!!!!!Hellooooooo!!!! What would you expect to see in London!!!!!!

ND- Yeah great.

RW-And like ohhhhhhhhhh my god could that Prince William guy be any cuter???????? You know my friend Lydia, when she heard I was coming to London she was like "Oh myyyyyy god Reese what if you like met that Prince William guy and like married him!!!! You would be like the wife of the President of Europe!!!!!!!" And I was like ohhhhhhh my god that would be like sooooooo cool!!!!!!!

ND- Yeah great.

RW-What? My newest movie? Sure I don't mind talking about it! It's a romantic comedy about a girl next door type played by me called "Illegally cute!"
I decided to do a lighter film after my brilliant but dark Oscar winning performance in Walk the line, I like decided that people like wanted to see good ole Reese as good ole Reese!
Walk the line? Oh I'm like soooooooo glad you asked about that!!!!! It's a film I like really treasure and working with that guy who was in it with me was a very non bogus experience.
When they like first asked me to do it I was like no way!!! I didn't even know who Johnny Money was!!! But then they like offered me loads of money and I was like Doh!!!!!And then when they like gave me an Oscar I was like ohhhhhh my god thanks!!!

ND-Yeah great.

RW-Where do I see my career going in the future? Ohhhhhhh my god I like sooooooo don't know, but I would like definitely like to do more films, cos they like give you loads of money and other cool stuff like awards and stuff and one time right, I was like going to that Oscars thing right? And they like gave me designer clothes to wear!!!!! I didn't even have to pay for them and my friend Lydia was like" ohhhh my god Reese that is soooooo cool, they like gave you designer stuff free!!!!!" And I was like I know!!!!!!! How cool is that!!!!!!!

ND- Your chin really is massive, I knew it was big from seeing it in pictures but close up it's huge, it looks like it should have its own satellites. If not it's own moons then it definitely needs its own postcode. In fact it's not just your chin, your whole head is huge! You look like a melon stuck on a pencil.

RW- How long will I be in London? Oh just a few days, Reese unhappy boo hoo. I like wish I could live here, it's sooooo cool and if you like had movies and TV and stuff I totally swear I would!! I'm not kidding!!! I sooooo would!!!! I would!!!!! Honest!!!! I sooooooo would!!!!!

ND-I cant take my eyes off your grotesquely deformed face, when you see it up on the big screen you think to yourself, ok it is gonna look big because its up there on a big screen, but Jesus Christ in real life you look like you are on a big screen! Looking at you is like watching you on Imax.

RW-What? What did you say????? I am sooooooo not telling you about my love life!!! You're bad!!!! I'm like at a place right now where I'm not actively seeking love but if it comes along I won't like say no. It's like my friend Lydia says "Hellooooooo, guys are like great but I'm not gonna like go chasing them and then like cry if I don't like get one, helloooooo!!!"

ND-Yeah great, melon head.

RW-Music???? I'm like sooooo glad you asked me that!!!!! I like have a single out next month in the states called "Why does the world love me" It's a hip hop/country/jungle/R and B style rock song about the pressures of being Reese Witherspoon. People are like "Reese!!!! We knew you were great at doing like films and stuff, but music!!!!!! Are you like some kind of like genius!!! Like that ninja turtle, Leonardo, who did all them paintings and stuff!!!!" And I'm like Doh!!!! I have been into music like forever!!! Even before I did like acting and stuff!!!

ND- Jesus Christ, my legs have gone numb.

RW- It's been a real pleasure to meet you too!!!! Like if you ever come to LA you should sooooo look me up!!! I could show you some shops YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE!!!!!!! No I mean it!!!!
YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE!!!!!!!!!.

At this point one of Ms Witherspoon's people stood her up and led her still chattering towards the door.
I'm sorry.

Acme brides: An expose!

Man is a simple creature, he works, he eats, he drinks, he sleeps and he has done this with a monotonous clockwork rhythm ever since the mist shrouded beginnings of recorded time.
Is it an inbuilt metronome that swings him into these daily actions? Some innate instinct passed surreptitiously down through his genes?
No.
The reason for man's seemingly natural actions is of course woman and more specifically wife.

No one knows when the institution of marriage first appeared but the earliest known references to this peculiar ritual appear in Sumerian cuneiform tablets dating from around 5000 BC, a rough translation of which gives us this tantalising glimpse of ancient marriage:

"And so the great king did say unto (Missing word)....thou have placed your arrow shaft into yon virgin's gourd, now thou must promise to doest as she tells thou and buyest all her foot wear (Missing passage)..... if thou does not do these things we will cut off your arrow and boilest thou in the oil of ten camels!"

So it seems that man has needed this mutually advantageous contract since the very beginnings of civilisation, indeed it is maybe even the very bedrock of our modern day civilisation.
Nowadays our fast paced lifestyles and isolated urban existences seem to have separated some men from the necessary contract of marriage, leaving them stranded in a sea of filth, instant noodles and internet porn.
Luckily for these poor unfortunates the marriage agency has sprung into much needed existence as an essential aid in the elimination of unwanted bachelorhood.

News direct decided the world needed to know more about these essential tools of modern love and asked me to delve into my box of undercover disguises and pretend to be a sad unlovable wretch so desperate for love that he would resort to the seedy world of the marriage agency.
I started my investigation by trawling the phone book. After F for fanny didn't turn up any promising leads, I then tried M for marriage and stumbled upon a veritable treasure trove of possible leads.
I decided to start where you're supposed to and made an appointment at a place called Acme brides, which had the intriguing motto of "If you don't get laid (for life) we don't get paid!"

Acme brides was conveniently placed atop a mini cab firm in deepest darkest south Leeds, only a discreet hand written crayon sign gave any clue that the steep unlit and uncarpeted stairs before me had been the stairway to heaven for so many of life's saddest losers and desperate geeks.
I climbed the stairs, after checking no one I knew had seen me, and came to a thin paint peeled door with another elegant crayon written sign bearing the legend:

Not the toilet!!!!
Acme brides
Stopping suicides since 1984
(Not affiliated with Acme medical supplies)

I pushed softly on the door, afraid of taking it off its rusting hinges, then pushed again harder because the frayed carpet under the door had gathered up into a foot worn conspiracy to deny me access to this temple of marital bliss.
A voice called out from behind the door "Oi!! what are you trying to do!!"
I continued to push against the flimsy door "It's stuck! I'm behind the door and want to come in and get married"
"Well don't keep bloody pushing on it! You'll have the door off!!"
I felt some give in the door and gave it one last big push and then felt myself swoon into a sort of free fall weightlessness with nothing but the door guiding my passage to the inevitable floor.
I landed hard, star fished awkwardly across the floored door.
Before me behind an untidy desk sat the astonished face of a portly,slightly purple, balding middle aged man, whom I assumed was the owner of Acme brides.
He stared down at me.
I stared apologetically up at him from the traitorous carpet "It was stuck." I nodded at the carpet "On the carpet."
He stared down at me.
"Pushed it too hard I think.......I can't feel my testicles."
He stared down at me.
"I think I may be genitally paralysed, I'm not joking, I really can't feel my testicles."
He stared down at me, his violent purple face now mellowed into a slightly less memorable shade of puce.
I gingerly lifted myself from my spread eagled position into a more comfortable on all fours doggy style, to try to lift the mood I ventured "Bet this doesn't happen often! Does it?"
He stared at me.
I now maneuvered myself onto my knees and began to vigorously rub some sort of life back into my numb testicles "I've come for a wife."
"Get off my door!"
I looked behind me, then back at him "What?"
"Get off my door!!!!!" He was now turning, cuttlefish style, back to his previous violent purple, it was strangely beautiful.
I pulled my hand from the front of my pants and slowly stood up.
"Get off my door!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"What?" I looked down "Oh yeah, sorry."
I stepped off his door, and out of politeness, I picked it up for him and took it over to where it used to be attached and leaned it against its one time neighbour, the wall.
"I'll just put it there shall I?"
He stared.
I made a face that I hoped said "Oops!, I'm such a klutz! But aren't we all sometimes!" And which I knew as soon as it had appeared on my face was more like "Ha! I have just knocked your door off it's hinges and I'm not bothered, in fact I find it hugely amusing, because I believe you to be a twat!"
He stared.

We hadn't got off to the best of starts but in a strange way I think the door accident had helped me to establish my undercover persona as a sad and bumbling bachelor desperate for love.
I pointed towards the plastic chair in front of his desk "There?"
At the sound of my voice he took his eyes from his now leaning door, skipped them off me, onto the chair and sort of grunted as he slid down into his own much more comfortable chair.
"Sorry about the door."
He shook his head, slowly wiped a hand over his face and sighed "What can I do for you Mr...?"
I smiled my best smile "Mr Hart, Johnathan Hart."
A look of puzzlement drifted quickly across his face at the sound of my name but by the grace of god and my brilliant forward planning my disguise held.
"So what can we here at Acme brides do for you...Mr Hart?"
I smiled inwardly with the intense satisfaction that another cunning persona had entered the world fully formed and ready to investigate "Well Mr..?"
"Mr Steele, Remington Steele."
I narrowed my now suspicious eyes "Well .......Mr Steele, I won't lie to you or beat around the bush, the fact is that I'm a multi millionaire businessman and I have decided that after a lifetime of cigars and scotch stained board room deals that it is finally time that I settled down and got myself some legally bound pussy." I smiled.
"Mr Hart, we are not a knocking shop, we don't do "legally bound pussy" we are a reputable bureau du amour, a resource for the time poor bachelor, a service to the community."
"Oh yes, of course I fully understand Mr Steele." I winked.

This wasn't really going how I'd hoped it would so I cleverly changed tack "How About I tell you what I'm looking for and we can go from there?"
Mr Steele sighed and nodded his agreement.
"Right what I'm looking for is something with very large breasts." I clawed my hands in front of my chest to give him some indication of an acceptable size."
He shook his head slowly as I carried on "an even temper and an O level in cookery if possible......but obviously the last two requirements aren't compulsory, but I will not negotiate on breast size!"
"Mr Hart."
"Yes?"
"Get out of my office."
"Pardon?"
"You heard me, get out of my office."
"But I want legal love!!!!"
He stood up and pointed at the open space where his door used to be "Out!"
"Just gimme one of your fat ones then!! I'm not fussy!!!"
He then unexpectedly lunged at me across his paper strewn desk and I quickly decided my impenetrable cover as Johnathan Hart multi millionaire industrialist had been blown and he now suspected I was Britain's top investigative reporter.

I made quickly for the stairs and took all thirty two of them in four giant strides, and before Mr Steele could even reach the bottom stair I was off and away down the crowded high street like a investigative cheetah on amphetamines.
Sometimes undercover work is a dirty and dangerous business, but if it helps bring the stories that matter to the people that matter (That's you) I'm willing to do it.

Yorkshire day

"Ow much did tha' say it were? I'm not paying tha"
Unknown Yorkshire man.

As most intelligent right thinking normal people will no doubt know, The first of august is one of the most important dates chiseled into the metaphorical face of the Gregorian calendar.
It is of course Yorkshire day, a semi religious bank holiday for all of the folks lucky enough to have appeared from between their mothers legs within the Borders of god's own county.

To mark Yorkshire day News direct has put together this short but informative history of "The most magical place on earth." (What's that? That's Disney's Trademarked logo? Well Disney can kiss my hairy Yorkshire arse!)

For those who don't know or are, god forbid foreign, Yorkshire is England's largest county and was first created by the lord god almighty himself on, I think, the first Thursday after he had made the things "that creepeth upon the groundeth and the things that flyeth in the skyeth."
But the holy connections do not stop at Yorkshire being one of the first places ever created, a majority of the world's biblical scholars now believe that the garden of Eden was situated somewhere within the rolling fertile farmlands of East Yorkshire. One possible site muted as the geographical centre was the tiny village of Wetwang, mostly due to their being a large apple tree on the village green and the fact that the landlord of the local pub is called Adam and his "wife" is called Steve.

Having had such illustrious beginnings one might expect the flat vowelled demi gods lucky enough to have been born within this green and pleasant land to be boorish insular braggarts, intent upon impressing their way of thinking onto those poor unfortunates the Yorkshire people call "Them there outsiders"
You might expect this, but nothing could be further from the truth it has been scientifically proven by scientists working at NASA'S jet propulsion labs in Pasadena, that Yorkshire people are the nicest people in the whole of the world, beating out the whale breathed Inuit people by over ten science points.

Yorkshire's integral place within the scheme of god's creation has subsequently been reinforced by the discovery of a small stable deep in the Yorkshire dales that scientists have now confirmed may once have belonged to a Jewish carpenter with a beard.
This connection to the Jews may also have contributed to the widespread myth that Yorkshire people are, shall we say, careful with their money, for like the Jewish people we too have been tarred with the stigma of avarice.
That's not to say this reputation is totally unfounded in hard scientific fact because it is well known that the only way to get a Yorkshire man to buy you a drink is to buy him a pub, marry his daughter or kill a Lancashire man. Do all three and he may just make it a double.

This brings me to one of Satan's foulest creations, Lancashire. The very name drips with all that is evil and wrong in the world which is how it has been since the beginning of time immemorial, in fact up until 1782 Satan's county was called pedoshire.
It is maybe some grand cosmic joke that made the good lord place this foul den of inequity next to the glorious Jerusalem of Yorkshire or maybe he just wanted to show the peoples of the earth the contrasts between his magnificent glory and the dark light of Beelzebub, we can never know.

In wrapping up this short tribute to the world's most important place, I'd just like to say to anybody thinking of moving to Yorkshire, don't bother we are full.

News direct meets Germaine Greer

Todays special interviewee is none other than Australian feminist, writer and literary critic, Ms Germaine Greer.
Although we at News direct do not agree with Ms Greer's outrageous views on the supposed equality of women, we feel it's in our readers best interests for us to expose them to even the wackiest ideas.

News direct- Ms Greer, why do you hate men so much? Are you a secret Australian lezza?

Germaine Greer- Well you waste no time getting to the crux of the issue do you? I've only just sat down and you have already painted me as a man hating antipodean lesbian.

Nd-Just answer the question Ms Greer, don't think you can come in here and soft soap me with your "charm"

GG-I wouldn't dream of trying to soft soap you, although you do look as if you could use a good bath.

Nd-Will you please answer the question!! Women!

GG-Why is it that you hate women so much that you see any intelligent articulate woman as a man hating lesbian? Is it perhaps an inbuilt fear of yours? Are you scared of strong women? Is that why you persist in trying to demean and stereotype women?

Nd- I don't demean women. Well not unless they ask me to, you know in a bedroom type situation there was this one woman once and she asked me to sh..

GG-I am not interested in your bedroom behaviour thank you very much!

Nd-But you asked and I was telling you about this woman I knew, she would make me crouch over her chest....

GG- Enough!

Nd-But I didn't finish the story....

GG- No I asked you a question and you careered off into a sexually perverted rant fully expecting me to be interested, which I can assure you sir I am not.

Nd-But..

GG- No buts you horrible little man, either you gather together some sort of professionalism and conduct this interview with the respect I deserve or I will be forced to terminate it forthwith. Do I make my self clear?

Nd-What?

GG- You heard me perfectly well the first time I shall not be repeating my self and stop chewing your pen! You are not a child.

Nd- I wasn't, I was scratching.

GG- You were not scratching you were chewing, give it here please.

Nd-But I need it to take notes.

GG- Pen please.

Nd-But..

GG- Thank you, you can have it back afterwards.

Nd- (Handing the pen over) It's got David Beckham on it.

GG- You will get it back afterwards. Now can we please get on with this silly little interview. Next question?

Nd- Should all women be forced to stay at home and cook pies between bouts of submissive sex with their men?

GG- No, next question?

Nd- But..

GG- But what you silly little man? If you think I'm going to debate you juvenile attempts at an opinion you are sorely mistaken.

Nd-But...

GG-Do you really believe I would consent to an interview without doing a little research on the publication involved? I know what your "technique" is, you invite people to a serious interview and then use the opportunity to parade your repertoire of bad knob gags and childish inuendo. Well I'm afraid I won't be playing along.

Nd-A long what?

GG- You sad, sad, sad little man.

Nd- So that's it then?

GG- I don't think there is any value in me staying around do you?

Nd- Nope I don't suppose there is really, unless.......no you wouldn't want to.

GG- I wouldn't want to what?

Nd-Nah forget it you wouldn't want to, Anyway thanks for coming.

GG- Wouldn't want to what?

Nd- Suck me off.

GG- Heres your pen.

Nd- It's got Beckham on it.

GG- Yes it has.

Ms Greer's lawyers have asked us to point out that there was no oral sex involved in this interview.

Mein kampf

In May 1945 after six long years of total war the Allies eventually struggled into the jagged ruins of Berlin thereby bringing to an end one of the most shameful periods in the whole history of humanity.
Countless centuries of European culture lay destroyed, Forty million people were to never breath again, death camps, disease and degradation abounded on a scale almost unimaginable to us today.
For most of us we look back on this catastrophic period and thank god we weren't alive and that our grandfathers were.

Common sense would lead one to assume that the foul stench of Nazism died along with it's badly mustachioed leader somewhere under the bomb ravaged strasses of Berlin.
But common sense, as we all know, is sadly lacking in the world and the reptilian head of Nazism is once again rearing its ugly head.

News direct decided to investigate this growing political trend by visiting the newly opened offices of Seig heil tours, a newly formed travel company that specializes in holidays for Nazis.
To see if we could shed some light on this puzzling new trend for fascist nostalgia.

I traveled up to the dirty terraced streets of Wigan to speak to Dave Goebbels the owner of Seig heil tours limited to try to get an angle on just what it is he offers to the modern adherents of National socialism.
The offices were tucked away in a dingy backstreet, the only access up to the main office was through the street door and up a badly lit narrow staircase which led to a nondescript door that bore a plaque saying SH tours Ltd.
I knocked.
"Enter!" The harshness of the voice shocked me and quite inexplicably I knocked again only this time much harder.
"Come in!!"
I braced myself for the coming confrontation and slowly opened the creaking door, It swung open to reveal a tiny, barely equipped office containing not much more than a large desk, a computer, a filing cabinet, a huge red swastika flag and the man I had come to meet.
The sight of Dave Goebbels was almost as shocking as being confronted by the sight of the swastika flag, he was a very small man and if one wanted to be unkind you could almost describe him as stunted or wickedly, a dwarf.
"Well don't stand there letting all the heat out! Come in!"
I continued to stare, mentally trying to match the authoritarian voice to the tiny stature before me.
"Are you just going to stand there?"
I glanced around me nervously "No."
"Are you going to come in?"
"Yeah."
"Today?"
"Yeah."
I looked, as surreptitiously as possible, under his desk and was astonished to see his legs hanging childlike from his chair in a failed attempt to reach the floor.
Mr Goebbels pointed one of his tiny chipolata type fingers at the chair opposite his commanding man size desk.
He stared.
I stared.
He stared.
I blinked and looked nervously around me and tried in vain not to sneak a look at his toy legs dangling from his chair.
Mr Goebbels smoothed down his almost non existent hair "I'll tell you right off the bat Mr...."
I glanced down at his impossibly short legs again.
"Mr??"
"Oh sorry It's Mr Goldber....."
His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward in his chair.
I verbally checked back on myself "Mr Goldber.....ling....ton."
His eyes achieved the impossible and narrowed even further "Goldberlington?"
I chewed my lip.
"What kind of name is that?"
"It's a surname."
"Yes I realise that but where's it from?"
"From my mum and dad."
"I realise that Mr....Goldber...ling..ton, but what I'm asking you is where does your name originate from?"
I tried to hold his unforgiving gaze "Errr...not sure really, I think it might be Welsh."
"It don't sound very welsh."
"Doesn't it?"
"No it doesn't."
"Oh well."
"I think your name isn't Goldberlington at all."
I made a face that suggested outrage "How dare you!"
"I think your names Goldberg."
"It's not."
"Are you sure?"
"I think I know my own name."

I fidgeted in my seat as Mr Goebbels ran his beady eyes over my nervous visage.
"Do you want this interview?"
"Yeah."
"How much?
"Loads."
He leaned back into his over large chair "Right drop your pants then."
"Pardon?"
"Drop your pants."
"Look I like you and all that but I'm not a gayasexual or anything, not that there's anything wrong with that sort of thing. I suppose it's hard to attract women when you are quite...you know... like you areeee...you're quite shor..."
"Idiot! I just want to see your Aryan foreskin."
"I don't have a hairy 'un, I'm totally shaved."
"Aryan!! Not hairy 'un!
"Oh right, I thought you meant hairy....."
"Just drop your pants!"
"But you'll see my thing!"
"That's the idea!"

I stood slowly and started to undo my trousers "Don't look."
"I can assure that I take as much pleasure from this as you do."
I let my trousers and slightly stained underwear fall to the floor, turned my head in shame and let Mr Goebbels look at my best friend.
He leaned forward in his seat, shook his head and then retrieved a pair of thick spectacles from his desk drawer and then leaned further forward, I think to take in the full majesty of the sight before him.
"It's quite small isn't it."
"Says you!"
"Alright pull them up Mr Goldberlington, I am satisfied. With a penis like that you can't be anything other than Welsh."
I gathered my pants from the floor and hastily pulled them up.
"Right now we have the question of race out of the way we can start the interview."
Red faced I searched in my bag for my notebook "Soooo....Mr Goebbels, Very interesting name Dave Goebbels."
"Yeah it wasn't my original name I changed it by deed poll."
"Oh right, I thought so, what was your original name?
"Barry Goebbels."
"Oh....right."
"So Dave..."
"Mr Goebbels."
"What?"
"You will address me as Mr Goebbels.
"But you've seen my penis."
"Exactly!"
"Oh ok, I just thought that now we were on more intimate terms that...but no, no you're right let's keep this on a professional footing. If we wanted to take it further later...but no we probably don't..... do we?"
"No we don't."
"Yeah best to keep things all above board and ship shape, don't mix work and pleasure."

A silence had now entered the room and like a fat uninvited guest it sat heavily between us.
I looked around the room hoping Mr Goebbels would speak, he didn't so I did "Nice flag."
"That was the flag that flew from the roof of the Reich's chancellery in Berlin."
"I like red."
"Oh."
The fat guest was back and we sat uncomfortably for a while each silently reliving the last ten minutes.
"So are we going to do this interview or what?"
"Yeah unless you want to show me yours....probably don't....do you?.......no probably not."
"Why would I want to show you mine?"
"Well so I could check you have a hairy 'un."
"AYRAN!!!! I was checking you were an Aryan!!!!!"
"Well what if I wanted to make sure you were an 'Aryan' too."
"I'M NAZI!!!!!!!!"
"Well you are quite unpleasant sometimes but I wouldn't call you nasty."
"NAZI!!!! I'm a national socialist!!!"
"Oh right I thought you said nasty."
"NO!!!!!"
"Alright you don't have to shout!"
"I'M NOT SHOUTING!!!!!"
"You are, and after everything we have shared together. I feel...oh I don't know, a little bit let down."
The vein in Mr Goebbels's temple had started to throb alarmingly "Shall we just get on and do this interview?"
"Fine."
"Is that ok with you?"
"Yeah, whatever."
"Good, shall we start then?"
"Yeah."
"Ok Mr Goldberlington, I'm ready when you are."
"What? I thought you didn't want to show me your hairy 'un."
"I'M READY FOR THE INTERVIEW!!!!!"
"Oh right I thought you wanted to....nevermind."
Mr Goebbels sat back exhausted into his chair and began massaging the throbbing vein in his temple.

"So Dav.....Mr Goebbels, what exactly are Nazis?"
"The Nazi party or the.....Whats wrong with you now?"
I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye and sniffled "Nothing."
He shook his head "Where was I? Oh yes the Nazi party or the NSDAP....are you crying?"
I sniffled "No, go on."
Mr Goebbels shook his head "Anyway they were founded in the early...you are crying."
"No I'm not."
"Why are you crying?"
"I'm not crying alright!! Just get on with it!!!"
"Well They were founded....."
"I can't do this."
"What?"
"Don't...please don't."
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh that's right play dumb."
"What?"
"I was right about you the first time, you are nasty. After everything we had together you just treat it like it never happened."
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"Yeah fine be like that, but just remember this! It was you who started 'our thing' I just came here to do an interview I didn't know I would get emotionally involved. How do you think it makes me feel when you pretend that what we had together never happened? How do you think that makes me feel? Course you don't think cos you're selfish!! You have just used me and thrown me away like a spunky old tissue!"

Mr Goebbels sat open mouthed and stared at me with what I can only describe as amazement.
I stood up "I can't do this anymore, I just can't."
His mouth moved but no words fell from it.
"Typical!" I flounced towards the door.
Mr Goebbels murmured "But the interview."
I reached the door put my hand on my hip and said "You can shove your interview right up your hairy 'un, you nasty Nazi!" I then clicked my fingers and left his office with the loudest slam his door could make.

This interview was conducted on behalf of Bloggers unite for Amnesty international.
You can support the work of Amnesty international by making a donation here
http://www.amnesty.org/en/donate
Thank you.

Great figures in history- Elizabeth the first

Today News direct's historical attention has turned towards Gloriana, Queen Elizabeth the first, last of England's Tudor monarchs and of course England’s most famous slut.

Elizabeth's story must of course begin in 1533 (that's the year, not thirty three minutes past three) when she was born of humble parents in the small fishing village of Hull in East Yorkshire.
Her father, a codpiece salesman from Wolverhampton, had fervently hoped for a son he could tutor in the ways of codpiecery and was said to have indignantly declared 'Oh fuck, not another girl! Throw her into the pile with the rest of them.'

But it was from these humble and inauspicious beginnings that Elizabeth would rise to be England's first ginger Queen and the first ever woman to captain an FA cup winning team, considerable achievements for what her father had initially called 'Another bloody split arse to feed!'
What made Elizabeth's rise all the more incredible was the complete and utter absence of royal blood flowing through her common ginger veins.
But just five short years after Elizabeth's birth, revolution was to rock the hitherto stable kingdom and events were such that, incredibly, her father was voted into the kingship, primarily on the virtue of his having assembled a huge army and the fact that he publicly executed anyone who disagreed with him.

It was during her father's stewardship of the country that the young princess first started to become interested in association football, her first club being her hometown team whom she captained to three consecutive league titles.
She was described in the Football association hand book as a 'tough old fashioned centre half' and was known throughout the game as the 'Ginger butcher of the Humber'
Ironically it was this uncompromising attitude to the game that finally convinced her father that she had the right stuff to inherit his crown.
So it was to be five years after captaining Hull city to their first and only FA cup triumph that the seventeen year old became England's first and last ginger Queen.

But Elizabeth's incredible rise from unwanted daughter, to FA cup winning captain and then Queen was not without difficulties. No sooner had she mounted the throne word reached the palace that the dastardly Spanish were attempting to invade and unseat the newly crowned Queen and replace her with a nineteen year old waiter from Benidorm called Pepe.
Elizabeth, ever the footballing warrior drew on all her FA cup experience and assembled a vast army at Plymouth docks to meet the Spanish ferries shipping over King Phillip's army.
It was here outside the dirty sailor pub and bistro that Elizabeth gave her most famous speech in which she declared 'Although I am a weak and quite sluttish woman, I can assure you I have the cock of a King!'

As so often happens in matters of great importance, fate was to take a hand and by means of wind and waves deliver Elizabeth a great victory, she was later to say that the destruction of Phillip's great armada of ferries was second only to her FA cup triumph.
Now that the kingdom was safe from the foul olive oilery of those dastardly Spanish, Elizabeth was able to fully concentrate her energies towards her other great passion in life, cock.

Although it's a well known fact amongst even the uneducated among us that Gloriana was as they say "Cock happy" It's a little known fact that after 1600 she would only ever sleep with horses.
How this fascination for "Equine pursuits" came about we can only speculate, but in a private correspondence to her favoured horse dealer we can get a glimpse of the Queen's innermost thoughts on the subject

Dearest Bernard,
Thank you so much for the last stallion you sent, he really gave my ovaries a right royal bruising, I haven't squirted like that in years! What I'm looking for next time is something with a little less length and a bit more girth, I don't think my cervix could take another hammering like that!
Anyhow, hows the wife? Give her all my love won't you, I know you will you filthy old bastard!

Yours quite sorely,
Elizabeth the first,
Queen of all England and FA cup winning captain.

PS, I was just thinking imagine what future historians would say if they knew all about my filthy horse habit! Thank god movable type or any sort of electronic communication hasn't been invented yet.

We can now only speculate as to whether Bernard managed to procure Her majesty something more to her liking concerning girth, but I do think any serious student of history will agree that this hitherto unknown aspect of Elizabeth's private life sheds some welcome light onto one of history's less well known facets.

Not long after this charming letter was written Her majesty Queen Elizabeth the first of England died. The exact cause of her death isn't known and to tell you the truth I couldn't be bothered to look it up. So I'll just say it was.....oh I don't know......Typhoid.....yeah that will do. It was a severe case of typhoid that was to finally defeat the mighty dynasty of olde Tudor England.

News direct meets the Dalai lama

Regular readers of News direct will not be surprised by the awesome quality of today's special interviewee.
We have really pushed the boat out this easter and flown his holiness the Dalai lama over ten thousand miles from his luxurious
Himalayan retreat all the way to the News direct offices just so we can question him on your behalf.

News direct (sung)-Well hello Dalai! It's nice be back home where you belong, You're looking swell Dalai, I can tell Dalai....

Dalai lama-Pardon?

Nd- You know the song from the old film Hello dolly. You must have seen it, it's always on TV.

Dl-I'm sorry but I don't own a television.

Nd-You don't have a television!!!!

Dl-No.

Nd-Ohhh man!! What do you do????

Dl-When I'm not fulfilling my religious duties I spend my time meditating upon the profound mysteries of the universe.

Nd-Have you never even seen Pop idol???

Dl-No, I just told you I don't own a television.

Nd-Ohhh man Pop idol is the best, they get like these care in the community type people and let them audition to be pop stars. You'd love it, cos I believe you had to go through something similar to become the leader of the Muslim people didn't you?

Dl-I am not the leader of the Muslim people, I'm the Tibetan peoples spiritual guide.

Nd-Oh right, I thought you was a Muslim.

Dl-No, I'm a Bhuddist.

Nd-A what?

Dl-I'm a follower of the teachings of the great lord Bhudda.

Nd-The what?

Dl-The great lord Bhudda.

Nd-Nope, you've lost me.

Dl-Well as lord Bhudda himself said 'That which is lost must inevitably be found.'

Nd-Yeah great, I think we should really get this interview started now, I still can't believe you don't have a TV that's just mad, soooooo Dalai..... I can call you by your first name can't I?

Dl-As your Shakespeare said 'A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet'.

Nd-I thought you didn't have a telly!!!!

Dl- I don't, I have read Mr Shakespeare's works.

Nd-Oh you read a lot do you?

Dl-To read is to understand man and to understand man is to have true knowledge.

Nd-Never really got into reading much, though I did read Bravo two zero by Andy Mcnab, have you read that?

Dl-I don't believe I have no.

Nd-You should get it it's brilliant, he was like this SAS guy in the Gulf war and there is at least two killings on every page!!! It's awesome!!! Like there's one bit where he 'slots' four republican guards with just one bullet then somersaults over a wall and takes out six more with just his knife and his bare hands!!! You should get a copy in the airport for the flight home.

Dl-Lord Bhudda said 'Violence is the reaction of the foolish man to circumstances he does not comprehend' The law of karma negates violence as an option for the man who truly understands the universal laws of existence.

Nd-I think you can get it for about eight quid in paperback. If you can't get it in the airport try looking on Amazon they will definitely have it, hang on what's this karma thing? Isn't that something to do with gays?

Dl-Karma states that every action has a reaction and as the lord Jesus said 'What ye sow, so shall ye reap' violence begats violence.

Nd-I think you're mistaken on the Karma thing mate.

Dl-I think not my wise friend.

Nd-I think so.

Dl- And why do you believe I'm mistaken.

Nd-Well in the Boy George song he expressly says 'karma karma chameleon you come and go, you come and go' I believe it's about quick homosexual toilet sex. You want me to edit this bit of interview out? You've made yourself look a bit of a tit.

Dl-You must do as your conscience dictates.

Nd-Suit yourself, I'll leave it in, but don't come crying to me when you realise what a fool you look.

Dl-I trust my words will be seen for what they are.

Nd-That's why I was giving you option to change them! Anyway Dalai tell me about....where is it you're from again?

Dl-Tibet.

Nd-That's right Tibet, for some reason I was thinking you were from Toxeth.

Dl-No I'm from Tibet.

Nd-Yeah it's mad cos I was thinking he don't sound like he is from Liverpool.

Dl-That's because I am not, I am from Tibet.

Nd-Yeah well I know that now!! I was saying before I thought you were from Toxeth, if you don't mind me saying you can be a it slow sometimes.

Dl-No I don't mind, for sometimes is not the fool the cleverest person in the room?

Nd-Errrrrrrr.....no.

Dl-Well it has been lovely speaking to you but I'm afraid my schedule is such that I must conclude our enlightening chat.

Nd-Already!!! There's loads I haven't asked you yet!! You international superstars are all the same, haven't got time to give back to your fans!! Those are the people who made you, you know!!

Dl-I can spare you two more minutes.

Nd-Ohhhh...errrrr.....ohhh your rushing me now and I can't think what I was going to ask you.

Dl-Calm your mind, let it become a calm pool in the wind of thought.

Nd-Right calm pool, right............what's your favourite colour?

Dl-All colour is just the result of light bouncing from an objects surface thus disguising the objects true nature, therefore I have no favourite colour as I'm a seeker of truth.

Nd-I like red.

Dl-Goodbye.

Nd-Yeah see ya mate! Don't forget!!! Bravo two zero it's by Andy Mcnab!!!! That's ANDY M-A-C-K-N-......M-A-C-K.....ohhhh just ask them at the counter they will know what you mean!

Some like it not

Hull- Standing quietly on the muddy banks of the vast Humber estuary, The city of Kingston upon Hull has a reputation forged through centuries of under achievement and downright weirdness as a strange wind torn, almost forgotten corner of England. It's the kind of place you wouldn't really want to go to unless you had to, kind of like the urban equivalent of the clinic for sexually transmitted diseases.

But the city's bad reputation and lack of visitors allied to an ever shrinking gene pool have made the people of this much maligned town decidedly different from even the people that occupy the rest of the glorious county of Yorkshire.
So in the name of exploration News direct decided to travel to this forgotten kingdom of the clinically unwell, to try to document this huge lump of concrete that proudly calls its self 'Yorkshire's fifth best city'.

My contact in Hull was local historian Mike Fotheringill, who I was to meet in Hull's most famous hostelry, The Nervous ferret.
Mike was a short bald man with a beard but that didn't put me off talking to him and minutes after meeting we were deep in conversation.
"Hull was founded here on the shores of the Humber around about the 8th century, Hull wasn't it's original name though."
"Was it not?
"Nah it was originally known by the Viking name of 'friesboogard stahl'"
"And what does that translate as?"
"Windy shit hole."
"So the city has had a bad reputation from the very beginning?"
"Oh yeah, the Vikings originally used it as a kind of mental health sanatorium."
"They built a hospital here?"
"Well not so much as a hospital, they mostly sailed up the Humber and dumped the mentally ill off here."
Mike finished the pint I had bought him only moments before and sat looking me in the eye while tapping the rim of his empty glass.
"Would you like another pint Mike?"
"Bloody hell I thought you'd never ask!"
After returning from the bar with Mike's vocal lubrication I asked "what are the people of Hull like?"
Mike drained half of the pint I'd just bought him, burped and said "Well we have a reputation as hard working, slightly quirky xenophobes with a distaste for spending."
"And is that reputation deserved?"
"On the whole I would say, yes but obviously you can't generalise about a whole city, my glass is empty by the way."
"Oh right, and do you think the people of Hull see themselves as very different from other people?"
Mike sat closed mouthed and feigned disinterest in me till I realised he was tapping the rim of is empty glass again.
"Can I get you another beer Mike?"
He immediately regained his animation "Oh that would be lovely your a real gent you are."

I returned a few minutes later with Mike's pint and placed it on the scratched table next to my untouched white wine and soda.
Mike eyed my drink suspiciously, before picking up his real man's drink and again draining most of it in one gulp.
"So mike, the people of Hull they see themselves as very different from the rest of Yorkshire?"
"Didn't they have any crisps?"
"What?"
"Behind the bar, is their some kind of national crisp shortage I haven't heard about?"
"You want a bag of crisps?"
"Oh that would be lovely thanks, salt and vinegar please."
I shook my head and stood up, Mike quickly drained the rest of his pint."
"Might as well get me another beer while you're there."

I made my way carefully back to our corner table and placed mike's new pint and a bag of crisps before him.
"Just the one bag?"
"You wanted two?"
"Well, no I didn't particularly want two bags, but it might have been nice."
"You want me to go back and get you another bag??"
"No, no I wouldn't dream of asking you to go back just for another bag of crisps."
I bent to resume my seat.
"But if you are going back you could get me some pork scratchings as well."
"So you want another bag of crisps and a packet of pork scratchings?"
"Only if you're going."
I stood again.
Mike drained what was left of his drink "You might as well get me another pint while your there."

I placed Mike's refreshments before him and before he could request anything else I pressed him of the question of the characteristics of Hull people.
"Well I believe it comes from our isolation and our spiritual connection to the sea, you see this was a seagoing town, until Thatcher decided to give our fishing rights to the mighty island nation of Iceland, this city was one of the world's top fishing ports.
A community forged by the hardships of the North sea is bound to set its self apart from others because it takes a special sort of person to make a living from such a dangerous trade."
"But isn't Hull more famous for car theft and drugs offences?"
"Well now it is yeah, but even those occupations are quite dangerous, so it is a really a continuation of our proud tradition of undertaking dirty and dangerous work."
"And it's this that makes you look down upon outsiders?"
"We don't so much look down on them as pity them."
"Why would you pity outsiders?"
"Well it's like my old dad used to say 'Son, you're not clever, you're not good looking, you're not even mildly interesting, but you are from Hull so you'll do for me kid.' That sort of sums up the Hull peoples attitudes I think."
"So what your saying is that you're stupid,ugly, dull people but you live in a geographically isolated corner of nowhere and that makes you all very special?"
"Yep!"

After managing to squeeze two more pints from me I said a fond farewell to Mike and his strange corner of nowhere.
Now wherever I go and whoever I meet in this strange world of ours, I will be eternally grateful that I will never again have any reason to visit 'Yorkshire's fifth best city'