A week is a long time in news when you actually pay attention…
A COLD DATE IN HELL WITH TIM PANKHURST: PART 2.
As his grip tightened around my neck I began to blank out. I kicked out but he was far too strong. He let me go and I tried desperately to regain my breath. Then I tried to run. But I couldn’t move, I was rendered motionless by Pankhurst’s powerful mind spell. He appeared to warming up for a final speech before finishing me off. It seemed only fitting that a man of Pankhurst’s reputation would adhere to such dated cliché.
“You don’t realise Casablo, but years of conservative upper-middle class advertising dollars flowing directly into my ink-stained veins have made me strong beyond comprehension. Never again will you spew forth your slang-ridden student media filth about my newspaper again.” He smiled maniacally, his eyes glowing a fiery red. I knew this may be the end for me, and I had never got to tell Kelly Swanson-Roe that she made me physically ill to her face, or personally drag Mikey Havoc out of the limelight. My life began to flash before my eyes… I was clearly going to die well before my time.
I had to think quickly. If I wanted to survive I knew that I must distract him. “Look Tim, it’s a puppy of mixed-race, being piggy-backed by a one-legged retarded boy who’s holding hands with a black guy!” I was too convincing, he looked away – the excitement in his face bordering on sexual.
I ran, I knew what I must do. One previous evening, suffering from PCP withdrawals, I had mistakenly robbed a church, thinking it was a pharmacy. I dived right, but Pankhurst was already distracted by a year-old copy of New Weekly. And before he could mutter the words “Angelina Jolie looked fat in that dress”, I sprayed him with a water pistol full of holy water.
Nothing happened. Pankhurst looked into my eyes. “What is this minor inconvenience you spray me with?”
“Holy water.” I replied.
And then the true terror hit him. Pankhurst broke into a run, diving straight through my living room window and ran down the street wildly. I knew it. For if there is one thing that can scare a savage and violent upper-middle class conservative National voter, it’s ridiculous Christian myth…
DENZEL WASHINGTON VISITS WELLINGTON, TOWN UNITES IN AGREEMENT: “COOLEST CELEBRITY TO VISIT THE CITY EVER.”
WE’VE suffered through Liv Tyler flashing a crowd of innocent bystanders outside Subnine and fucking half of Wellington. We’ve come to the conclusion that Viggo Mortensen is nothing but a filthy hippy. We’ve all desperately tried to laugh at ourselves desperately trying to be friends with Jack Black and realised that Naomi Watts is a squat-looking no-talent dimwit.
Elijah Woods pissed in our fountain and fancied himself a bit much for a dude who was the same height as Shakira. Ian McKellen liked sleeping with men fifty years his junior, and uh, who the fuck is Matthew Lillard? Seth Green is on Family Guy but is the worst thing about the show. With Burt Reynolds we were coming close to being visited by a real celebrity. But Denzel? He’s a bad motherfucker, a big black badass. I hope he moves here. I’m looking forward to watching him walk down Cuba St. with a pistol in each hand while shaking down street punks and yelling at strangers: “you like that bitch?”
JOHN HOWARD WATCHES AUSTRALIAN BIG BROTHER
ANGERED by the 2005 axing of Big Brother Uncut and the deprival of his sure bet night-time television serving of Vitamin T, John Howard flips out at footage of one man holding a woman down while the other guy rubbed his balls in his face. I ask you this Howard: how else is she going to learn? Haw. Haw. Someone get me a keg, or someone physically inferior to beat the crap out of. At least New Zealand television studios can be commended for taking this shit off the air. (That and the World’s Smallest Groom).
FROG GIVES MOUSE A PIGGYBACK, BECOMES A MODEL OF GLOBAL COOPERATION.
IN these devisive and demanding times is there any image more uplifting than a picture of inter-species co-operation? No, because as Mr. and Mrs. Newsreader worry about the nuclear program in Iran or the totally neglect towards addressing true global problems they need to know that everything is going to be okay. And this, this is just the medicine. You know this, and maybe by STOP IGNORING THE NEWS BY PRINTING HUGE PICTURES. Yeah, that could help too.
THE DOMINION POST STORY THAT ISN’T REALLY A STORY OF THE WEEK
‘Just hangin on’
Page two, World section, Tuesday’s Dominion Post. A crying toddler is falling off a sheep, looking genuinely terrified. It is from a “Mutton Bustin’” event in Canada. To start with, that poor fucking child looks terrified, and I don’t care how cute some may find small children dressed up like characters from Brokeback Mountain. Was I reading an edition of Kids Being Put Through Depressing Ordeals? The newest edition of Cats and Kids Wearing Funny Hats? Some sort of masturbatory rodeo annual? Sadly, no. Just another bout of intellectual syphilis in your daily helping of the Dominion.