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."

Merkel denies titty snaps

Berlin-The Germans are not usually known as a people prone to prudish behaviour and hysteria but the latest political storm to hit Berlin is going a long way to prove those national stereotypes wrong.
Angela Merkel, the German chancellor and head of the ruling CDU party, has sensationally moved to deny claims that topless photographs printed in the popular German news magazine Der Speigel are in fact her.

In a terse statement issued from the Chancellor's office this morning Mrs Merkel said "I can categorically state that those reprehensible photographs purporting to show both my nipples and a tuft of pubic hair are a crude fabrication and I can confirm that I have instructed my lawyers to look into this whole sordid episode."

Dieter Graumann, spokesman for Der Speigel told me earlier today that the magazine stands by its decision to print the photographs and suggests Germany's first female chancellor should be flattered people would want to see her breasts "I don't see what all the fuss is about and why she would want to deny it. The photos are definitely her and seem to have been taken in a multi storey carpark in Hamburg sometime in the late seventies.
They are very tasteful and mostly show the chancellor cupping her large breasts and licking her lips. I could see why she would be upset if they were full on porno, with her spreading her long pussy lips and showing the pink, but to my mind they are very tasteful shots. The one with her licking her pierced nipple is my favourite."

The row looks set to rumble on for a while yet with further denials from Merkel only adding to the prurient nature of the story.
Marcus Hanne an old boyfriend rolled out by the chancellor's office to deny the story only titillated the press further when he declared "Those photo's are definitely not Angie baby, I was her hot sex lover for six years and I can confirm that the chancellor has never had pubic hair due to a rare form of pubic aloepecia, also she does not have her nipples pierced.
She used to say only sluts, whores and American girls had their nipples pierced and was quite content with just her clitoral piercing."

The Chancellor is due to broadcast a live interview on German television next week to absolutely refute the claims but with the situation now approaching critical mass, many feel only the full disclosure of both breasts and a quick flash of the Chancellor's minge will quell the raging media storm.

Fast food, a dinner for four?

London-Terry O'Connell is a man on a mission, the thirty six year old farmer from Essex has just unveiled the first of his genetically engineered farm animals which he is hoping will soon grace the nation's dinner tables.
The bird pictured here is named Perhaps Colin
and has been genetically manipulated to produce four tasty legs and so end the typical 'who gets a leg' argument familiar to every family of four.

Speaking to me earlier by telephone from his one hundred acre Essex farm, Mr O'Connell told me how he came up with this revolution in chicken leg technology "I originally developed the birds as racing animals and was intent on setting up a chicken racing circuit similar to the Formula one franchise, but the original backers dropped out due to the bird flu scare and I was left with six thousand four legged racing chickens.
I don't mind telling you this was my lowest ebb and at one point I was very close to bankruptcy, but as the old saying goes every cloud has a silver lining."

Mr O'Connell then went on to tell me how he audaciously snatched victory from the gaping jaws of defeat.
"The breakthrough came when I was really getting desperate, I had spent the day trying to train my fastest chicken, Mottled Jim, to complete a specially designed steeplechase course I'd based on the grand national course at Aintree.
Everything was going well until he came tearing down the course up to the Beecher's brook fence he then totally misjudged the height and came down hard on one of his back legs.
I don't mind telling you, I was in floods of tears when I realized his racing career was over.
It was my wife who suggested we should eat him as a tribute to a career unfulfilled.
It was then during Mottled Jim's tribute dinner that I suddenly realized each one of the four people at the table were chewing on one of Mottled Jim's legs, it was my eureka moment."

Since his eureka moment Mr O'Connell has secured two lucrative supermarket contracts and is in talks with a certain fast food company whom he refuses to name at this present time but did reveal they were very interested in coating some of Mr O' Connell's former athletes in secret spices and seeing how it goes.

Sarkozy claims his bitch

Paris- The streets of Paris were eerily quiet this morning as news of the election victory of Nicholas "Le prince of darkness" Sarkozy was announced to a stunned and fearful population.

The normal hustle and bustle of one of the world's most cosmopolitan capitals has been replaced by shuttered up shops and the hideous realisation that the nation is now ruled over by a Neo con neophyte who has promised to make his idol Baroness Thatcher look like "A playful right wing kitten"

Mr Sarkozy, speaking from a secret lair deep beneath the labyrinthine streets of Paris, moved quickly to dispel the population's unwarranted fears and declared "Although I am now your dark overlord and as such demand the total cooperation of all people in my dark schemes, you should not fear me, fear only my vengeful wrath."

President Sarkozy's election defeat of the dour socialist housewife Segolene Royal was strangely enough forecast over four centuries ago by the famous seer and prophet Nostradamus who said in the thirty third quatrain of his master work "Things that will happen (probably)"

In the year of seven and two thousand the beast shall defeat the maid,
and all of France will tremble and fear be shared
before the power of the man they call "La tete de merde"

President Sarkozy's first big political test is set to come in July with the elections for the national assembly. Plans have already been put in place to begin rounding up political opponents in mid June to spare the President and his minions the arduous task of fixing yet another election.
Yves choix de satans, the presidents newly appointed world bank advisor has already stated that the new administration expects their own 911 event quite soon to give the new president the pretext he needs to enact the country's new security laws and bring them into line with the other nations already mired in the darkness of Neo con rule.

A final solution to the french problem?

When I first approached the editor here at News direct with my idea for this editorial he dragged his wet bloodshot eyes up from the latest letter from his ex wife's lawyer and with quavering voice told me to "Get the fuck out of my office and go waste some other cunt's time."

That's when I knew I had hit upon the proverbial goldmine.

Just what is it about the French that can raise temperatures sky high and have reasonable well educated men frothing at the mouth with loathing and barely disguised contempt.

Now those of you who have read my previous editorials will know that I'm a tolerant and well meaning man, happiest when meteing out some finely crafted nuggets of advice to my faithful readers or indeed simply sat at home polishing my extensive collection of civil war skulls.But even the barest mention of the F word is enough to make me want to go on a well planned shooting spree in the nearest schoolyard.

Why is this? Is it the superior attitude? or the vast collections of mouldy rank smelling old milk they have the audacity to call cheese? Is it the ridiculous way they pretend to have their own language, (which by the way is only spoken when American citizens are within earshot)

I have pondered this question for over a week now and after long and careful deliberation I have come to the conclusion that the thing we hate most of all about them, the thing that really gets up our noses is the simple irrefutable fact that ninety nine point nine per cent of them are filthy, dirty garlic stained communists in league with not only the now defunct and underground soviet menace but also the crypto communist Islamic fascists now threatening our very way of life here on god's chosen continent.

So what is the "Final solution" to our probleme Francais.
To my way of thinking its simple enough, this might sound harsh and I know there's a whole lot of liberal scum out there that will castigate me for this.
But I really do believe the only way to solve this tricky problem is with the use of nuclear weapons.

Now I know this is a radical solution but for the sake of humankind I think it would be best to deal with these odour ridden rascals now before they have a chance to breed beyond the size of their already huge population.

Sure we would miss baguettes and the simple elegant tailoring of Mr Pierre Cardin, but I think any rational man who meditates on the problem as I have for over week now, will surely come to the same conclusions. I leave you to decide.

Edible animal found in Paris!

Paris- Confusion reigns in the French capital tonight as the shocking news that an edible animal, that does not appear to be on any menu, was found within the city limits.

Early reports emanating from the French capital appear to suggest the animal is some sort of delicious quadruped.The as yet unnamed beast was apparently spotted, late yesterday afternoon, wandering unbasted among the flower beds of the Tuilleries gardens in the centre of the city.

The shocking spectacle soon drew a crowd of curious Parisians who stared in wonder at the unknown ingredient and argued amongst themselves wether it should be fried in garlic or roasted with thyme.

Officers from the capitals elite ingrédient mystérieux squadsoon arrived on the scene and took the beast into culinary custody.The animal is now being held in the main detention kitchen deep in the bowels of city hall; while a team of specially trained chefs rub herbs on it's back and decide the correct way to cook the beast.

The mysterious appearance of the animal has shocked the usually stoic Parisians and the issue is quickly turning into a political scandal.

As one outraged resident furiously told me "Zut alors! zis is unthinkable!! How can it not be on any menu? I blame Chirac he is too busy making fuck with pretty girls no? He don't care that we have some sort of a unknown ingredient wandering around the city. It's a day of shame and a day I hoped never to see."

The government have been quick to assure Parisians that they are working hard looking for suitable recipes for the mysterious animal and will endeavour to keep people informed of the ongoing situation.

French WII soldier found in forest

Paris - The inhabitants of the quiet little village of Trou de Dieux, nestled in the luxuriant forests of the sprawling Ardennes, probably thought they would never again return to the heady glare of the worlds media spotlight.

A place they once briefly occupied during the 1927 Camembert shortage, that led the villagers to famously impose strict martial law within the town to protect their dwindling supplies of the world famous "cheese".

But all that changed early Saturday morning when a bedraggled stranger walked out from the dense forests surrounding the village, strode into market place and declared himself to be Major Pierre Le Poulet, commander of a French army unit sent by Paris in June 1940 to check the advance of the invading Nazi war machine.

Villagers stared in amazement at the sight of the 94 year old still dressed in the tattered remains of his Major's uniform, as he went on to declare "I, Major Pierre Le Poulet of the glorious French army, formally declare my surrender to the forces of the gallant German occupation, Heil Hitler!."

So stunned were the villagers by the arrival of this strange apparition that only an eerie silence greeted the Major's formal offer of surrender and creaking Nazi salute. The major taking this silence as a bad sign dropped to his elderly knees and began to plead with the villagers for mercy.
After the initial shock had worn off, the startled town's folk sent a small boy running to fetch the Mayor from the local cafe (from where he conducts most of the village's affairs).
And so from these enigmatic beginnings the strange tale of Major Pierre Le Poulet began to emerge.

It seems that after the Major's unit had arrived in the forests of the Ardennes and had taken a look at the strength of Nazi invaders, the unit had taken a vote amongst themselves and decided unanimously to go their separate ways and not bother to fight such an obviously invincible foe.
So as the rest of his unit ran back through the forests in the general direction of Paris, Major Le Poulet decided to try to find a friendly unit of the SS and quietly surrender to them.
Things didn't go quite to plan for the major though, as he became lost in the impenetrable forests of the picturesque Ardennes.

The Major told how for the last sixty years he had lived on a diet of woodlice and berries, as he had searched in vain for a German unit to surrender to.
When told of the events of may 1945 and of the subsequent unconditional surrender of all German forces, he beamed and said, "I knew we would do it, those Nazi bastards were no match for our brave French lads."

Sarkozy tells france "You're going to be my bitch"

Paris - Yesterday, in a major speech setting out his radical vision for a new France, nouveau Thatcherite plastic Blair model, Nicolas Sarkozy told a delirious crowd of sycophantic Parisians of his second hand, slightly used vision for the country.

Sarkozy began his speech by praising his great friend Prime minister Tony Blair, he then went on to compare France to the United Kingdom saying "just look at what more than twenty years of unadulterated Thatcherism has done for the UK, while we still work the shortest hours in Europe, they the magnificent Anglos march ceaselessly onwards to ever higher profitability."

Sarkozy then moved his attention to defence and bemoaned the fact France hadn't been in a serious war since the ill fated Algerian campaign remarking, "A lot of people say, we the French people don't like war and the lessons of the past have turned us against foreign adventures, I say rubbish, under my regime France will return to its rightful place on the international battlefield, just behind the Americans and the British."

Sarkozy's speech was greeted with elation in the carefully stage managed hall and apathetic shrugs throughout the rest of France.
Only time will tell if the famously bolshie French public will sell their soul to the CIA's latest shiny creation, on the evidence of this speech most serious commentators are betting they will.