The game, being played by officers at Shanklin police station on the Isle of Wight, had started innocently enough with Superintendent Gary Cross launching proceedings with a simple ‘movie, one word, first word, (mimes munching)’ clue that fellow officers quickly identified as ‘Jaws’.

However, just after 6pm, constable Gerry Hickey started to act out a movie title that continues to leave colleagues and consulting detective Dixon, utterly baffled. Dixon says, ‘Hickey has clearly chosen a purposely tricky movie, like ‘Fitzcarraldo’ – although we’ve ruled out that particular line of enquiry.’

Assistant Commissioner Deirdre Fox admits that this is one of the trickiest cases her team have handled: ‘We have very little to go on. Hickey’s broken down and given us a few syllables, and even offered to tell us what it is, but it’s become a ‘thing’ now and we’re determined not to give up until we crack it. It’s been two weeks solid with officers working around the clock, and a couple more working around the hat-stand, but as yet we’ve still got very little to go on. It’s ‘Shrek’ all over again.’

Fox is referring to the 2001 animated movie, whose title confounded police in Dumfries for over three days throughout Christmas 2007. After a joint operation involving officers from three forces, a Special Constable correctly guessed ‘ogre’ as a clue and blurted out ‘is it Shrek?’ The exhausted officer doing the mime then put his hand to his nose and pointed in the young policeman’s direction before collapsing.

Meanwhile, Dixon has so far ruled out the machinations of his nemesis, Professor Moribund, who has delighted in setting a series of puzzles and traps for the renowned detective in the past. ‘No, this is something altogether different,’ Dixon explains, ‘Moribund would plump for something like ‘Koyaanisqatsi’, because what people forget is that as well as being a criminal genius he is also a pretentious git.’

‘No, I’m convinced that what is bewildering us in this case is an answer to a riddle so obvious it will lead to mass forehead-slapping all round. I must confess, however, that in all my years of sleuthing I’ve never before come across miming so diabolical.’

Wilcox met attractive divorcee Anna Sheppard, 37, on the local common when his West Highland terrier Flint started playing with her Jack Russell bitch Molly. The sight of the two small dogs rolling happily around in the grass together prompted other dog owners to start referring to them as an engaged couple.

‘I made a wry comment about how dogs are lucky not to have to bother with corny chat-up lines, which made her laugh,’ said Wilcox. ‘Next time they met, they were even cuter together, so I made a crack about Flint going through his sex-crazed teenage phase and she smiled and nodded.’

In the past few weeks, however, wet weather and other commitments have restricted Wilcox’s dog-walking activities. More seriously, Molly has become increasingly indifferent to Flint and has begun playing with a boisterous springer spaniel called Charlie.

‘Anna was obviously embarrassed that time when Molly started snarling at Flint,’ said Wilcox. ‘That’s probably why she didn’t reply when I said what a typical bitch, always falling for a bit of rough.’

With only two weeks before his annual holiday in Thailand, Wilcox is keen to see some progress in the relationship. However, he admits to being frustrated that it is so dependent on the whims of two unpredictable animals.

‘Well, if it doesn’t happen between me and Anna, so it goes, I’ll know it’s the dog’s fault,’ he chuckled ruefully. ‘Either that or because of the time she spotted me masturbating in the woods behind her house.’

The controvery has sparked a wider debate about the issue of assisted suicide bombing. ‘This is all about one man’s right to have the help he needs to blow himself to bits,’ said Director of Liberty, Shami Chakrabarti, ‘to stand in his way would not only be an infringement of his civil liberties; it would also be a bit stupid.’ MR Jessop insists that all he is asking for is personal dignity; ‘and the right to fire my limbs off in all directions while my head shoots into the sky. I just want to go out with a bang.’

Currently, the only way that people can detonate freely is to visit Switzerland where the law permits anyone to blow themselves up so long as they do so from the inside of a minaret. ‘I shouldn’t have to fly to Switzerland,’ said Jessop. ‘In any case they won’t let me on the plane. But I want to blow myself up at home with my friends and family around me.’

But the Justice Secretary Jack Straw claimed that this could be the tip of a very explosive iceberg; ‘If we allow physician assisted suicide bombers then, before you know it, families will be putting pressure on granny to strap up with Semtex and take a Stannah Stairlift to Heaven.’

Doctors have also expressed concern. ‘Of course we respect an individual’s right to explode,’ said a BMA representative, ‘We just don’t want to be the ones exploding with them. Surely this is a job for the Bomb Squad or someone. Mr Jessop is now planning to take his case to the High Court though police say that if he goes anywhere near the court they will be forced to seize both him and his case and subject them to a controlled explosion.

Fortunately a solution has been found to Mr Jessops’ search for somebody who is less worried about morals and ethics and just enjoys blowing things up. Mr Jessop will be detonated on the Top Gear Christmas special along with some caravans and unfashionable cars. Jeremy Clarkson said the death of Mr Jessop promises to be ‘hilarious’.

‘My sexuality was pointed out to me on many occasions’ explained Adam, ‘for example when I was embarrassing myself attempting to play football, whenever I came top of the class in a test and even when I was sitting quietly on my own reading a book. It’s amazing that they recognised these traits as indications that I’m gay. Well done them.’

When the comments first started he was unaware of his sexuality, but as he reached puberty he started to realise that he was more interested in boys than girls. ‘I’m now completely comfortable with my sexuality’ said Adam, ‘but I’m sure I wouldn’t have found it so easy to come out if it wasn’t for the kind observations of the boys at King Edwards.’

Coming out wasn’t all plain sailing for Adam however. ‘It was a difficult period for me, as a young man learning to love myself for who I am, and trying to find the courage to come out to my friends and family, but with the strength I gained from being regularly recognised by my peers for being gay I was eventually able to recognise and accept it myself’ said Adam. ‘In hindsight though, I’m not sure that being beaten up every day and having ‘queer’ written on my head was a big help. They might want to think about changing that in future.’

Adam went on to pay tribute to the uncanny accuracy of the boys’ gaydars in his case, although he did cast doubt on their ability to get it right every time. ‘There must be at least a hundred other boys in the year who they also regularly call ‘gay’, ‘gaylord’ and ‘poof’. I can’t believe that they’re all in the closet’ he chuckled.

Unfortunately the photographer had chosen a slightly low angle for the pictures, the better to show off the splendid Norman church behind the guests. The sad result was that the blushing bride appeared to have a monstrous 50-foot penis poking her in the side of the head at what should have been her proudest moment.

‘We tried to put a brave face on it, but we all knew it was there, hanging over us,’ explained Mr Fitzroy sadly last night. ‘My new mother-in-law had an especially fixed grin in her individual photograph, with a pair of cloudy testicles apparently brushing the top of her new hat, bless her. She hasn’t been the same since.’

Photographer Eric Bartholemew was in defiant mood when contacted by journalists this morning. ‘I capture the scene as it exists in a moment of time; like Cartier-Bresson before me I do not have the liberty of altering the truth,’ he insisted. ‘If this couple’s day was invaded by a giant cock, I can only record the fact. Anyway, they should be thanking me – no-one noticed the bride was pregnant, did they?’

The gypsies claim that the Acacia Avenue residents lead grey, dull, and pedestrian lives, keep their dogs on leads, force their uniformed children to go to school, rarely have romantic camp fire story telling gatherings, and don’t know how to tell fortunes. Stevo added:
‘These folk could make an effort to fit in with the rest of the community by painting their houses in wonderful rainbow colours. They could at least try and exude a delightful roving spirit even if they’re stuck in nine-to-five jobs and live in pebbledash boxes. I’m sure they must have many fine non-roving traditions, but all we have to look out on is this ugly uniformity. We are not prejudiced, but unless the council acts, there could be trouble.’

But a spokesman for the Acacia Avenue Residents Association Mr Bill Smith, hit back at his romany neighbours, saying ‘It’s the gypsies who should try and make an effort to fit in with the rest of the community by pebble dashing their garishly painted caravans. And even if they don’t have nine-to-five jobs, they could at least try and exude a grey, dull, and pedestrian lack of roving spirit. If something isn’t done, there could be trouble.’

A spokesman for the Isle of Wight Council said that its community relation’s department had plans to bring the two communities together. He explained; ‘We want to build bridges by encouraging the two sides to experience aspects of each other’s culture, so we are arranging for the gypsies to learn how to play whist and bridge and for the residents of Acacia Avenue to take-up selling pegs and bareknuckle boxing.’

Some critics regard Gordo as representing God – a view that Gordo himself appears to share. But nobody really knows what it all means, because after an interminable series of comical and futile dialogues between the main characters Gordo is still in office and nothing whatsoever has changed.

In theatrical circles it is of course considered bad luck to mention the title character of the play, who is usually referred to as ‘the Scottish Prime Minister.’ But the success of the play has seen a revival of a number of other West End favourites.  ‘An Expenses Inspector Calls’ sees a group of affluent politicians come face to face with how their extra income might have helped a poor constituent.  Pinter’s ‘The Second Homecoming’ sees an MP returning to his constituency home where he is challenged about his working class origins as he turns up the heating on the swimming pool. And ‘Look Back in Anger’ features a cast of thousands of political activists who gave up endless evenings and weekends to get their bloody MPs elected.

Waiting For Gordo has proved so popular that tickets are now going for hundreds of pounds from ticket touts. ‘It’s appalling that theatre go-ers are having to pay out so much cash,’ said the Minister for Culture; ‘It makes it so much harder to put down to expenses.’

(Vandella with hat tip to Skylarking)

Also coming soon; ‘NewsBiscuit headlines on International Maritime Signal Flags’. Are you part of a large merchant or military fleet of ships? Want to keep up with the latest satircal news parody headlines, such as the hilarious ‘I am operating astern propulsion!’ Just send us a morse code message using one of those great big flashing light things on the side of your ship…