In response to recent official scaremongering from the Environment Agency regarding dwindling water supplies, concerned member of the proletariat and know-it-all Noah Bubble has started a campaign asking for donations.
"As soon as I heard about the problem I said to myself, 'Well,' I said, 'This is a turnout. Those Environment people are saying they've got no water and where I am it's chucking it down.' So I thought, now then, I can do something about this, so I can. So I fills a couple of buckets and I sends them off. Yes sir, that's what I did."
Mr Bubble has been sending buckets of water to the environment agency for the past five weeks, some times as many as three a day, and now he's asking others to do the same.
"I can't solve the country's water supply problems all on my own, I can't, so that's why I have started the Splosh campaign. I thought up the name myself, I did. Thing is, we're on the verge of an environmental catastrophe, so I'm urging anyone who has access to water to make a donation. If you've got a spare pond, or a bird bath, or even just a puddle, then send it off right away. Some unkind folk might say that it's futile, that it's just spitting in the wind, but even that can make a difference, if we all gob together at the same time. And if you don't have any water, just fill a few bottles from the tap and send them off. It all helps, so it does. If we all pull together we can make the world a damper place."
Mr Bubble's well-intentioned efforts have been met with confusion at the Environment Agency, where staff have been wondering where all these empty buckets wrapped in soggy brown paper have been coming from.
"We appreciate the gesture," said spokeswoman Tracy Sponge. "But really, this is mental. So if you could please tell this gentleman to stop it, we'd be really grateful."
Instead, Miss Sponge has suggested that anyone who genuinely wants to help can do so by limiting the amount of water they use, thus making sure that there are adequate supplies for all whilst at the same time allowing water companies to maximise profits without any additional outlay on maintaining infrastructure. Thanks.
Ollie Packer has officially ceased to exist since accidentally shredding his birth certificate.
"I thought it was about time I decluttered," said Packer. "So I got rid of all the junk - old bank statements, expired insurance schedules, wage slips ... and also my birth certificate. I mean, I've already been born - here I am. I'm not planning on getting born again so I figure I don't need it."
Wrong. Packer has pulled off the legal equivalent of disappearing up his own hole, and here's the science: without proof of birth, this brainiac has become a zero-potential metaphysical concept with no real-time existence as an objective spacio-temporal event. Ha, that'll learn him. But you don't need to know that; all you need to know is that he can't get a passport and no one will serve him at the post office.
So far, all of Packer's attempts to establish his credentials as an actual human person have been a fat lot of no good at all. He cannot apply for a replacement certificate because he doesn't exist. He doesn't have a driving licence because he doesn't exist. He doesn't have a passport because... You can see how this 'not existing' lark is something of a pain in the padding. He has even attempted to get a letter of corporeality from his doctor but is unable to get past the dickhead of an automated booking system because it refuses to recognise him as a real entity.
But there is one last hope for Packer - because of some sort of legal doodah he can register himself as a racehorse.
"The British Horseracing Authority has welcomed me with open fetlocks," he told us, assuming we were interested. "Ok, so it means a diet of oats and I've got a visit to the vets tomorrow that I'm really not looking forward to, but none of that will matter when I'm waiting in the starting gate at Kempton Park next Saturday. And we're off!"
Spies vs Zombies and Space Aliens with Car Chases and Guns and Stuff may at first squint seem like just another mindless and formulaic action flick, but Hollywood might be teetering on the edge of a new age in cinema. I know, I know - every other film that comes out represents a new age in bleeding cinema, but that's just your standard promotional bull-plop. This could be the real deal since it's the first movie to be made with real performers in real locations, but with a completely computer generated crew.
Yep, the camera operators, the sound people, the folio artist, the horse wrangler, the caterers, the key grip and the assistant editor - especially the assistant editor - are all CGI. As you can imagine, this inevitably led to some hilarious misunderstandings. Well, keep imagining that because we couldn't think of any, so this particular paragraph ends on a bit of an anti-climax.
Anyhowever, soldiering on in the hope that we might come up with a punchline, we asked director Mario Pacman for his thoughts. Unfortunately he was unavailable for comment as he had just crashed and had to be rebooted.
The magazine for people who don't give a toss one way or another
Orville Crumble thought he was on to a good thing when he decided to float his legs on the stock exchange but, following the purchase of his knees last month by a Japanese investment conglomerate, Mr Crumble has now lost outright control of the lower half of his body.
...'Orville Crumble', what kind of a name is that? Anyway, let's crack on...
"I've been a bloody fool," Mr Crumble admits, as if it wasn't obvious. "I should have realised that there was a risk of losing my status as majority shareholder when I sold my shins before Christmas. Now I simply don't have a leg to stand on and have been forced to lease back my own feet. Honestly, I could kick myself, if the small print allowed for it."
Having learned that plans are afoot to open his legs to the public, Mr Crumble has decided to dig his heels in and has launched a legal challenge which he hopes will finally kick the scheme into touch. He stands a good chance, but unfortunately he has just learned that a Panamanian property developer is contemplating an aggressive takeover bid for his elbows.
Orville Crumble's legs appear in this item by kind permission of Mitsubishi UFJ Financial.
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of the Bleeding Obvious
All material Copyright © Paul Farnsworth 2000-2019, and may not be reproduced without the express permission of the author. All characters, companies and organisations are fictitious, and any similarity to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.