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A Hollywood studio has given the go ahead to a new film of the timeless classic, The Conte of Ouste Nuno.


The story, thought to have been written by a well-known dumbass, sees the hapless Conte lured into a trap by the treacherous Levy de Manque d'Argent (literally - the north Londoner who lacks silver). Finding himself imprisoned miles away from civilisation in the Chateau Dire, Conte meets another prisoner, the Abbé Harrykané, who says he's been trying to escape for years. Harrykané claims to be so old he can remember Spurs winning something, and also tells Conte of a fortune in silverware, said to be housed in the Chateau's trophy room.


Using the spittle emitted whenever Harrykané speaks, the two of them wet the cement around their prison bars until they're loose enough to remove. When they're about to escape, Harrykané says he can't go with him as he's dying, though Conte suspects he's just feigning injury as usual. Conte breaks out and finds the trophy room, only to discover it contains nothing but dust and a small cup for jointly winning the FA Community Shield in 1991.


Embittered by this dashing of his hopes, Conte falls into a remorseless cycle of despair, anguish and self-pity i.e. he takes the Man United job.








Your new house share, Donna, has become a nightmare, although when she came to view the room just three weeks ago, she seemed to be a perfect fit for you, Tony and Maria.


However alarm bells began to ring within three hours of her having moved in when you detected a musty smell coming from her room. After tapping politely on the door, but to no avail, you coughed loudly and turned the handle. Your heart sank immediately as you found her dancing stark-naked in front of a little mini-temple. Joss sticks were scenting the air with pungent patchouli oil incense.


Your concern intensified as she seemed quite at ease with her nudity. ‘Hi Simon, no, please don’t apologise, I’m cleansing the room's negative thoughts and feelings. Probably just leftover memories from the last tenant’s chakras. Why not get naked and join me,’ she suggested.


Of course you refused but since then things have become even worse. She continually plays Tibetan Nose Flute music at all hours and has commandeered the second shelf in the fridge, insisting that none of you contaminate her ‘special food’ with your Tesco chill-cook ready meals and non-vegan cheeses.


She’s out for the day at some kind of meditation course, and after an emergency house meeting you have been elected to serve notice when she comes back. It’s going to be awkward but as Tony said: ‘Letting the room to Maria's Mum after a messy divorce was always going to be a bit of a fifty-fifty call.’








The Electoral Reform Society has introduced an extra choice on all election ballot papers: a cock and balls.

‘To be honest, some people make a right balls-up of spoiling their ballot paper, and truly cock it up,’ said society chairman Chris Johnson. ‘Counters are tired of continually having to ask if the mark is a protest or a cartoon of Michael Gove.’


Opponents to the decision point to the newly formed Cock and Balls Party, set up with the aim of ‘shafting the electorate at every opportunity.’


‘Their logo is also a cock and balls, which means they might gain some votes by mistake,’ said one Tory MP. ‘And anyway, shafting the electorate is what we’re here for.’





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