Spews on the News

TTG is back to your humble 'puter screens after run-ins with life (workies), hell (aka university grad arrangements), Morgan spice and a pinch of the past. (My first breaking story, in fact)

Here's this week's slightly skewed news, brought to you by one disgruntled blogger, mildly relieved by the sight of a Tory succession in the horizon.

One Fist Call

Released May 30, 2008 to all phone lines near you

Directed/acted/produced by Gordon Brown PM

Downing Street productions introduces for the first time since 1997 a feature length horror tale that'll leave the viewer breathless, grinding their nails to dust, and distressed to the grave.

The story follows the footsteps of voters viciously killed by a single phone call that tortures its victims by spinning off ceaseless verbal diahorrea lies that 24 hours or one Brown budget later, bores to their inner skull and kills them outright.

Each victim sucked soulless into the red calls is left motionless with Labour handouts in mouth.

One party is on Brown's tracks, Prepped and ready to stunt the smarm offensive Right in its tracks but can they reanimate life into a nation hit by the cold call phenomen for well over a decade?

Watch the trailer here:

Hung like a democracy

Serial shagger Clever Clegg has 'parently been pipped to become Home Sec. if the Totties win Top of the Chops in 2010. Despite the polls bending backwards to prove the Tories are top dogs with first Crewe, second, the refusal to immortalise LM (Lousy minister) Brown into wax in Tussauds and third, a whopping 24 per cent lead, Cameron isn't yet convinced.

While Cleggy may be happy to take over the job of parliamentary clown from the reformed Boris who has politically matured in his young reign of London, the move seems to cover Tory derrieres who wish not to bring out the fanfare until power is in their grasp.

Besides, does Broon really stand a chance of making up that loss over the next two years, without copping it at the finish line?

TTG doubts profusely that Things Can Only Get Better in the demise and fall of the flying Scotsman.

Read all about it here.


London Blunderground

Poor BOJO has lost his MOJO (Mayoral opalescence and judicious organisation) and faces more than a telling off after drunkard pranksters stuck up two glasses at the Mayor by boozing on the thin yellow line.

Part of a facebook protest the Last Round ended in attacks on drivers, cops and TFL staff before it drew to a hazy end.

A twist in the ale, was er, that unions now believe Boris, the man behind the can ban on tubes, should apologise for their behaviour.

Last time TTG checked, Boris was the Mayor, a glorified overseer of the London construction site, filled with free-thinking individuals who make and take their own actions and should pay the consequences. BOJO is no more responsible for their actions than say, the newsagents and off-licences who sold off the booze to the protesters.

Why not, unions, blame the disgustingly behaved drunks who savagely hit the staff in their line of work for their OWN behaviour? Novel idea, eh?

Lem's Bit of Cheeky: Don't Touch my Bum!

Gabriela, the other half of the misfit Cheeky Girls pop outfit, has gained entry into the Commons after apparently needing a refuge from "adoring fans". It wouldn't have anything to do with that her fiance is the Lib Dem MP Opik and that the Romanian may face deportation.

Maybe, just maybe, Opik has an autobiography in the pipeline and hopes to secure a headline screamer of 'we had sex in the Commons chamber'. Or 'Third date at the Commons tops a day at the Science Museum says Gabriela.'

Well it sounds far more plausible than the notion that she's escaping fans - were there ever any real fans or were their fan base just hair-receding men in their 70s poised to vote for two twins in matching mini shorts?

Make up your mind by watching this vid.