80 Year Old Tries to Date Woman Half His Age

Wild Weeklies is shocked over claims that an old Langston pensioner is preying upon women half his age and under. Anything above this general ratio doesn't catch his notice and, in fact, one Langston lady, who is 80 and yearning for some human affection from "The Golden Oldie", as he is notoriously known, was affronted when he told her quite frankly that she wasn't his type due to her questionable age.

One lady was having none of his advances as she resorted to walking the street with a paper bag covering her face in order to escape from his notice. This only made her a talking point for the whole of her street, with some neighbours claiming she had "finally succumbed to her fear of people". Meanwhile, the poor lady, who wishes to remain anonymous due to her fear of being discovered by the man who has become her nemesis, is having a nightmare whilst shopping and is having to resort to taking her son out with her to do her weekly shop as she dreads the thought of being recognised, disguised as she is, in her paper bag.

"It's a living hell" she says, speaking to me from behind a screen to further protect her anonymity. "I can't go anywhere on my own anymore".

Indeed, this seems to be the attitude of many of the poor women who have become ensnared in the clutches of this notorious old man.  Please, ladies - be aware. If you are approached, be cautious. This man is dangerous and needs to be stopped.

Trident and Sian Jones

It started with a helpless musician being drenched in the contents of a can of coke. It has now become a matter of national concern since the young woman who started the controversy took matters a step further. It seems that Sian Jones, a young woman from Birmingham, somehow got hold of Trident. How this occurred, we do not know, but the government released this statement yesterday through the Justice Secretary:

“Sian Jones has taken trident. This is a bad thing for Britain. A bad thing; and Her Majesty’s Government take a dim view of thievery on the scale of Guy Fawkes. Whilst Her Majesty’s Government cannot have this young woman publicly hung, drawn and quartered, we do assure the general public, who, unlike this mad fiend, actually have a grain of sense in their heads, that the Trident is now safe. Where it is at this moment in time, we do not actually know.”

Sian Jones has shocked neighbours and friends, who describe her as “mentally stable and friendly” by taking Trident on board a Boeing 777 for the purposes of setting it off whilst in the air, pinpointing the house of the young man who so outraged her by declaring Dr Pepper a better choice than Coke. This has shocked the world, with avid TV viewers dubbing it “The crime of the week”. The young man who was the prospective victim of this most recent attack is appearing on a special edition of Crime Watch tonight where he will attempt to explain this bizarre turn of events.

Meanwhile, Sian Jones has been banned from going anywhere near any shop which she would reasonably know sells either Coke or Dr Pepper. Her sobbing pleas were ignored by the stone-hearted judge. She has also been banned from travelling any other way than walking. She has now become a recluse, restricts her walks to her back garden and has her meals delivered through a postal service.

Hyposyteothi

A small house in the outskirts of Preston has been rocked by claims that humans have, in fact, come from a small fish that started out as a mass of magnets and eventually turned into a being that has been described by experts as “the missing link”.


Cameron Robinsticklewade, a young entrepreneur, has claimed to have had a vision of how this world, as we know it, came about. He claims that a previously unknown substance, frightliasticallymagnetsical, was so vastly attracted to a lump of magnets that it burst into thousands of pieces, creating a form of sub life, known by the name of wyum buywlz, and was the first beginnings of what was finally to end up as human beings as we know them.


However, an unknown hitch caused the fish to leave the water and go to land. The fish evolved over millions of years into what Mr. Robinsticklewade is calling a Hyposyteothi, a half zebra, half human form, that over the millions of incredibly boring years that followed, managed to somehow grow human ears and learn to talk. Over the next few millions of years of re-production, these Hyposyteothi gradually became the humans that we see walking and talking around us today.


British ethologist and evolutionary biologist, Ricky Dawkers, welcomes these suggestions and says that the British public are needing something new to believe in, apart from the trash which was churned out by Charles Darwin. Whilst these words may surprise some avid Dawkers fans, Dawkers himself believes that the views of Darwin are so ludicrous and old fashioned, that something new would be great to feed to the idiotic British public. In case our news readers are offended by these statements made by Mr. Dawkers, the aforesaid would like to remind you that he is, in fact, no angel.


Mr. John Hodgson, who resides in the house where these claims were made and is a deeply religious man, is said to have retreated to his attic to try and get away from the shame of having such disgusting slurs said about him under his roof. He seems to take the reference to fish rather personally. His wife is, understandably, distraught, and is consulting doctors from London who specialize in working with recluses.


Meanwhile, the inventor of these claims, Mr. Robinsticklewade, is enjoying his new found fame. He says the idea first came to him when he was a small boy, visiting the local sea world. It is possible that this fateful visit he speaks of with such lightness, has been the means of rocking the scientific world and ruining a perfectly good man’s social life.

Deepest Africa

Last month, Wild Weeklies sent a news reporter to the deep and dark depths of Africa. The following is an excerpt from the subsequent story which ensued from the rather surprising visit.

     It was evening, and a full moon stared silently upon a world of mystical darkness. I wondered, as I stared into its unblinking gaze, what this evening might hold for me. Little did I know the horrors, the adventure, the fantastic deeds I was to witness that very night. Had I known, I think I may have simply caught the first aeroplane home…yet now, I would not trade that one evening for a million others, filled with gaudy trinkets and passing fantasies; meaningless nothings, empty times filled with empty people, searching…for what? Maybe I had found what I was really looking for, I mused, as I looked out on the magnificence that faced me in the bleakness of a muted evening, basking in silvery shadows.

      I was in the Rift Valley, a region of Kenya and Tanzania. I had heard that three English girls were staying with the Maasai people who inhabited that area, and although I was rather scared at taking such a long trip away from home: England, beauty, and all that I held dear to me, the pay package was such that I simply could not refuse the generous offer that was proposed to me by my beneficial employer, the owner of ‘Wild Weeklies’. Anyway, back to the Rift Valley. Certain spine chilling sounds were echoing around my befuddled brain, and I was sure that an animal was going to reach out from the depths of the darkness and eat me for its tea. I have never experienced such gripping fear in my entire life.

      I crept along, part of the shadows that the evening graciously gave me. Not too far away, I saw a campfire. Drums were rattling incessantly in the distance and I wanted to scream, shout at them to stop, but I didn’t dare open my mouth in case a mosquito got in there. Malaria is a life defying disease, you know. I was by the camp fire now and I saw that three African men were sat around it, warming their feet and speaking seriously to one another. Suddenly, I heard footsteps and a small, thin messenger boy ran up to the fire and began wailing something in a language I did not understand. I wanted to shout, scream at him to translate what he was saying, but I didn’t dare as that may have encouraged a spotted hyena to accept my wailing invitation and hunt me down for tea. Suddenly, one of the men, a tall, handsome African bloke with black eyes that suddenly lit up with anger, jumped up and began stamping his feet in rage. One of them caught the edge of the fire and he hopped around for a short while, crying in agony mixed with anger. Suddenly, he sat down again and began to speak in English, to my extreme relief.

     “What do you mean, they are gone? They can NOT have gone, it is my wedding day tomorrow and I must have someone to marry, how can you so calmly walk here and then just tell me that my bride has disappeared? They must have gone to the deep of the forest, it is madness at this time of night, madness, and they will be eaten alive!” (Aaarrghh! Cannibals, I thought, but I let out a huge sigh of relief as he continued) “Do they not realise that the forest is not a good place to be right now, there are dangerous man-eating animals everywhere? FIND THEM!” he thundered, pointing with a shaking finger in the direction of a little clump of trees.

     I crept stealthily to where the trees were situated. I was scared by the howling noises I heard, but when I investigated further, I realised it was the girls I had come to find. They were dancing round a fire, with long dresses on, their hair in braids and, shock horror, NO SHOES ON THEIR FEET? Didn’t they know that there were scorpions inhabiting this unspeakable place? They were yelling and hooting, their happy cries echoing around the little clump of trees.

     Elisabeth, the one with blonde hair, looked at her sister Jo and said seriously, “You don’t know nowt. Admit it. Let’s just ‘ave a brew cup an’ then ya can tell me why ya don’t wanna get married yet. It’s just the stupidest thingy I ‘ave ever ‘ad the misfortune o’ ‘earin’.”

     Sarah looked nonplussed. “Put't'wood i't'th'ole, tha clothead! it's reet parky in here!” she said, frowning. “Don’t waste precious time talkin’ ‘bout Joanna and Andy, it’s just ridiclious.”

     After they had fed the fire with more wood, they sat down in an orderly group to talk some more about the problem which now faced them.

      If you want to know how the story ends, you will have to read my book, as I decided that the money that 'Wild Weeklies' had offered me was not good enough; I wanted to be paid properly for all the scares I went through, which included: nearly being eaten by an African tiger, almost being eaten alive by mosquitoes, being chased by a hairy spider plus many other things it pains me to remember. Literally.

Wild girl attacks musical genius

A court hearing at Birmingham Magistrates Court has spiralled into the realms of fantasy, causing many angry tax payers to protest at what they see as a waste of public money. The façade started when a young woman, who cannot be named for legal reasons, attacked a musician she recognised with the contents of a can of coke she had just bought from a local newsagent. The angry owner of ‘Angie’s Daily News’ insists that she sold the can in complete innocence, not realising the purport of the aforesaid buyer.

Apparently, the victim of this premeditated attack was quietly walking through the streets of his home town, when he was set upon by a young woman with long, flowing red hair. “She was so wild, she looked like a Scottish barbarian” claims the young man, who confides that he now suffers from nightmares and cannot sleep after the effect that the attack has had on him. We can tell you that the woman made some comment to him about the Dr Pepper bottle he was holding, but when he answered her (in a very friendly manner) that he preferred Dr Pepper over any other drink in the world, she suddenly went wild, screaming that coke was the only drink to be tolerated, and proceeded to throw the remains of what was in the can, into the unfortunate recipient’s face.

Whilst it may appear to be a terrifying experience to go through, it still seems that it is a very small and petty matter to be making such a fuss of. The case was thrown out once, but when the victim of this dreadful attack appealed, the courts sprang into action, the outcome of which is yet to be seen.

The case continues.

Spider Alert

Whilst some households may be happy with having spiders lurking in their dark corners, other home owners are not. Wild Weeklies has been talking to such a person, who says that the threat hanging over her of spiders in her home, is making her life a misery.
This young woman, who requested that she remain anonymous over fears of retribution from Animal Rights Activists, says that she has found that the best way of dealing with the "hairy monsters" is by slapping them with a rolled up newspaper. This, we are told, causes the spider to become unconscious, or, in extreme cases, to actually die.

Hysterical Nonsense

Wild Weeklies is shocked amid claims that an unknown woman attacked and killed a young woman who had caused her daughter to die through hysteria. The name of the young woman is not known, but the assailant is generally accepted to be Mrs. Young, of Birmingham, who is reported to be unhappy that her daughter died of laughter.