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.