'This is the most exciting thing to happen in Devon since a duck barked instead of quacking in 1945,' said Penny James of Eastward Whore!, one of only two places allowed to shout its name at tarts from London.
'Plymouth had to be completely evacuated, which meant that nearly seven people had to bugger off to Bodmin for the day and stroke a cat with hairy hands. To be clear and a bit mysterious, the hairy hands weren't the cat's. And had to be shipped across the border from Dartmoor.
'A young girl in Cornwall suggested putting jam on before clotted cream, and that diffused the whole situation, as it always does. But then she said scone instead of scon, and all hell broke loose. Clearly, she has the devil in cider.
'But our Devon spokesman at the seat of power on The Last Leg, Josh Widdicombe, was able to calm panicking politicians in parliament by assuring them that their third holiday homes in the county remained intact. Luckily, however, Trago Mills was completely destroyed by a meowing badger.'
'It was scary for a few hours and I was afraid, but I was safely evacuated from the dangerous area,' said the bomb.
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