Titchfield Mayoral inauguration branded a flop

Mayor Barry Slade - defiant in the face of adversity.

Mayor Barry Slade – defiant in the face of adversity.

Officials have officially stated that the disappointing figures for Friday’s mayoral inauguration ceremony in the grounds of the abbey were ‘disappointing, to say the least,’ while newly sworn in Mayor, Barry Slade decried the claims by declaring the event a ‘resounding success which sent a message out to the world, the whole world, all of it, oh yes.’

Despite hiring 100 seats for the event, officials announced that only 11 had actually shown up, of which five were garden centre customers who had taken a wrong turn.

Mayor Slade blamed the dismal turnout on ‘adverse conditions and women,’ claiming that tailbacks on the M62 had caused problems and that many visitors became distracted by the allure of a farmers’ market just up the road in Fareham, adding that women didn’t help the situation because ‘they always want their own way.’

“It was bladdy big load of shit innit,” said burger van entrepreneur Ali Bullo. “They tell me six hundred coming so I pay thirty pound for license, come with hundred burger, I sell not one. Is bladdy rip-off and big waste of time. Nobody come, nobody buy burger, Tommy Cooper impersonator – him not come. Is all a bladdy big con innit …”

Mayor Slade dismissed his critics by saying they just couldn’t get along with his anti-everything stance.

“Seems obvious to me that in this village the women wear the pants,” he said. “Women should stop talking and trying to interfere with business and get busy in the bedroom and the kitchen because they aren’t good for much else. If you ask me they have too much influence, way too much influence. The guys of Titchfield need to grow a pair, that’s right, grow a pair, a big pair, a yuge pair, and put their foot down with a firm hand before we become a nation of pussies. Pussies…yes…”

More as we get it.

Paddy Berzinski

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Welborne – Affordable homes from £55k – but there’s a catch

Welborne - behind the kite flying and the manicured lawns.

Welborne – behind the kite flying and the manicured lawns.

Fareham Borough Councils’ Camorra representative, Sean Woodchuckio – currently marketing Welborne Garden Village with kites and manicured lawns – today vowed that the controversial development would be all inclusive, with 2,000 new dwellings to be made immediately available at affordable levels. [Read more…]

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Titchfield Councillor calls for withdrawal from Fareham Market

Lord Mustard Pants Of Thanet - still smiling despite becoming an endangered species.

Somebody who vaguely resembles Councillor Cheeseman pictured before he got leathered down the pub recently.

Titchfield TCIP (Titchfield and Catisfield Independence Party) councillor Nobby Cheeseman has called on Titchfield traders to withdraw from Fareham market on the basis that that the market is undemocratic, a dictatorship, and that Fareham Borough Council’s stance on imported cheeses from outside farmers’ markets and French markets is devaluing traditional Titchfield cheese producers.

“We must retake Titchfield and regain control over our cheese market,” Councillor Cheeseman said over a pint and a ploughman’s at Titchfield Mill. “I’m not cheesist in any way but when Titchfield cheese producers put their goods on offer at Fareham Market there’s way too much red tape and they’re subjected to extortionate fees for stall rental and, quite frankly outrageous parking fees. We need to get out now and start our own cheese market. I’ve heard there’s a massive demand for Titchfield cheeses in outer Mongolia, and that’s how we should be looking at this issue. There’s a global market out there, so why bother with Fareham? It doesn’t make sense and it’s a bad deal for Titchfield. Our cheesemakers contribute about £350 per week to Fareham Borough Council, and that money would be better spent on First Aid courses at the village hall. We should have it painted on the side of a transit van or something to promote awareness.”

Local dimwit and aspiring politician Tom Slavish commented: “I’m not sure what’s happening here to be honest but I’ll assess the situation, test the waters and then come out on the side of whoever’s winning the argument.”

More as we get it.

Cafe Spike

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Titchfield Mayor Elect – Inauguration show line up

Titchfield residents are said to be excited by the inauguration show.

Titchfield residents are said to be excited by the inauguration show.

Newly elected Titchfield Mayor, Barry Slade has finally announced the line up ahead of his inauguration in the grounds of Titchfield Abbey tomorrow. (Weather permitting.) [Read more…]

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Brexit voters ARE old racist xenophobic coffin dodging wankers – you read it here first

A Brexit voter pictured possibly giving his ex a hand job in some hospital or other.

A Brexit voter pictured possibly giving his ex a hand job in some hospital or other.

Let’s just take a moment to consider the motivation of Brexit voters, [Read more…]

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Christmas Eve in the night shelter – a memoir

We're all human. Aren't we?

We’re all human. Aren’t we?

Some years ago I was working as a night project worker in an experimental night shelter. It was experimental because it was a ‘wet’ shelter – a temporary haven for the homeless where the residents (we were supposed to call them clients, but I never felt comfortable with that, so to me they were residents) were allowed to bring in and consume alcohol on the premises.

To the casual observer the set up may have appeared to be a recipe for disaster, yet it turned out to be workable for the most part. The shelter was staffed by two salaried project workers with a line manager and a night duty officer on call in case of problems. We worked four nights on and four nights off, opening up the building and admitting the residents from 8pm to 8am daily, and that year Christmas Eve was – along with my co-worker – our last night.

One of the worst aspects of the job came about in the mornings. The residents had beds in individual cubicles and a communal area for socialising, but in the mornings they had to leave as the building was unstaffed in the daytime. That’s a tough call on a cold winter morning. Most residents would while away the daylight hours in the local library, a pub if they had the money, a fast food place or even a laundrette, before coming to the shelter in the evenings for a meal, a spot of socialising and a warm bed for the night.

We couldn’t possibly have turned the residents out onto the street on Christmas morning, so my co-worker and I volunteered to stay on for an extra 8 hours (unpaid) after our shift until a local volunteer group arrived to cook Christmas dinner for the residents.

The same volunteers had opened up an hour early on Christmas Eve, and as I arrived I sensed something amiss. The residents were clustered in a group in the communal area, and one or two were looking agitated.

Next up, the doorbell rang and when I went to answer it I was confronted by half a dozen cops in riot gear and the same number of irate citizens. It later transpired that one of our younger residents had decided to amuse himself by smashing car wing mirrors with a small hammer, and had been pursued by said citizens and police to the shelter.

So the cops came in, and the guilty kid made it clear that he wasn’t going with them without a fight. There was a stand off, and I was stuck in the middle, between an angry young man and police officers holding out canisters of pepper spray. I just did the first thing that came into my head.

“Whoah!” I said to the cops. “Don’t start spraying that shit around. Let me talk to him. He’ll be okay, trust me.”

With that the cops thankfully paused, but the kid was getting increasingly agitated.

“Look,” I said to him. “Think about it. One way or another you’re going to be going with them. The hard way isn’t a good option. Just give it up and talk to them. They won’t hurt you. I promise. I won’t let them.”

Looking directly into his eyes I could see that he wasn’t going to do that, I knew the kid and I knew where he was from, so despite the fact that he appeared to calm down, then raised his hands and said: “Okay.”

He tried to do a runner, bolted, but as he spun around he ran face first directly into a cast iron roof post and knocked himself spark out.

Not the greatest start to an evening in the season of goodwill.

My first duty of care being to the resident, I crouched over him, shielding him from the police, who seemed all too keen to pepper spray him, but to their credit, they didn’t. They thankfully held off.

He was out cold for a matter of seconds, but it seemed like an eternity until he blinked and started talking again. I helped him to his feet and the cops put him in a van without further incident.

Until he realised he’d been nicked and started kicking the shit out of the sides of the van. But that’s more or less a given in the circumstances, and the cops didn’t seem too concerned about it.

Considering all this occurred within ten minutes of the Christmas Eve night shift things weren’t looking good, but everything chilled out considerably after that.

We had three musicians in that night, one a novice, one who’d come from a well off family who’d taken to the streets after losing his friends to drugs, and a sensitive soul from my wife’s home town.

We spent that Christmas Eve listening to these wonderful guys playing sweet music on their guitars and singing. One of the highlights being the former pro band member who gave a comedic interpretation of Eric Clapton’s ‘Wonderful Tonight’ substituting the signature line with: ‘You look like fucking shite.’ Adding that as a busker, asking a guy in a cinema queue what his girlfriend’s name is and then substituting it for Sally in Oasis’s ‘Don’t Look Back In Anger’ was a guaranteed money spinner.

In the meantime, I got into a conversation with the guy from my wife’s home town, a musically talented and gifted sensitive soul who was a committed vegan. I asked him if he’d eaten and he replied that he hadn’t so I offered to rustle something up for him. He had a passion for garlic mushrooms, and thanks to my beloved wife – from his home town, Worcester – I had the perfect recipe.

So I cooked the guy some garlic mushrooms, and he said they were the finest garlic mushrooms he’d ever tasted. He was teary eyed when he said it, and it moved me.

“I’m going home,” he said. “I’ve decided. It’s been too long.”

“But it’s half four on Christmas morning,” I pointed out. “No trains, no buses. Get your head down here. You’ll be okay.”

“Thanks all the same. But I’m going home,” he said. “Could you open the door please?”

I tried to talk him out of it, but he wasn’t having any of it. He thanked me for the garlic mushrooms, slung his bag on his back and walked off into the mist at 4:30 on Christmas morning, thanking me for my hospitality and understanding.

It was a strange night, yet a wonderful night, and one I will be eternally grateful to have been a part of.

There is no moral to this story. It’s just life experience for all of those involved.

We’re all just people – no more, no less.

Thanks for reading this, and Merry Christmas.

Cafe Spike.

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Our Christmas message to politicians

Theresa May - hasn't got a fucking clue what Brexit means.

Theresa May – hasn’t got a fucking clue what Brexit means.

Dear politicians

Whilst we – the great British public – truly appreciate that you’ve taken the time and trouble to record personal Christmas messages to the nation, you really shouldn’t have bothered. [Read more…]

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Fake News Websites aren’t doing the damage – it’s the ‘real’ ones

Express reporter about to sharpen his quill pen.

Express reporter about to sharpen his quill pen.

The proposal that fake news websites should be shut down, or shut out by social media outlets because they may or may not have exerted an undue influence over real life political issues and voting outcomes, one can’t help but wonder what goes on in the befuddled heads of our so-called leaders. [Read more…]

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Ten Christmas TV Specials We’d Love To See

It's Christmas Day and this family are settling down in front of the TV to watch 'The Evil Dead.'

It’s Christmas Day and this family are settling down in front of the TV to watch ‘The Evil Dead.’

Strictly Not Dancing – Ten couples who all have two left feet flatly refuse to dance and prop up the bar despite being cajoled by a panel of judges possibly including Jeremy Clarkson, Holly Willoughby, Donald Trump, Nicole Scherzinger and a meerkat out of the Compare The Market ads.

Gogglebox Watch – Drunk people eating massive takeaways are filmed watching and reacting to Gogglebox on the telly, saying how they either like or dislike the Gogglebox regulars and revealing which ones get right up their noses. [Read more…]

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Help Us To Save Nigel Farage

Lord Mustard Pants Of Thanet - still smiling despite becoming an endangered species.

Lord Mustard Pants Of Thanet – still smiling despite becoming an endangered species.

Having heard that Nigel Farage has received death threats from anonymous sources and that he can’t go out in public without fearing for his personal safety we’ve decided to take the bull by the horns and we’ve come up with a rather rollicking good plan to keep the sainted Lord Nigel alive and safe. But we need YOUR help.

We propose to commission a ten foot square steel cube with twelve inch thick walls and a big feeding tube attached and then put Nigel in it and bury it two hundred feet deep in Death Valley in his beloved USA, where he’ll be completely untouchable and safe from all the lunatics who wish him harm and threaten to loosen the wheel nuts on his car and suchlike.

Above ground we’ll install a pod containing a dozen highly trained SAS men to guard the feed tube and send Lord Nigel copious quantities of John Bull best bitter, Benson and Hedges, Pringles, salsa dip and regular copies of the DAILY EXPRESS so he can bask in the hero worship of his sycophantic fan base.

We reckon it’ll cost about £3 million but it’ll be money well spent if it keeps Nigel safe, and here’s where you come in…

Send us your donation now, the greater the sum the more it’ll make Saint Nigel safe from harm.

If you’d rather contribute towards maintaining Lord Nigel’s sartorial elegance you can contribute to our kit appeal, which may well keep the Good Lord Nigel in mustard coloured corduroy trousers, tasselled loafers, crombie coats (with velvet collars of course) and hacking jackets.

Send in YOUR donation NOW to KEEP Saint Nigel safe this Christmas and for years to come.

**UPDATE** We hadn’t factored into the financial costing a toilet facility, so PLEASE donate an extra £100 so that King Nigel can have a safe place to meditate.

After all – the last thing we’d want would be for Father Nigel to drown in his own effluence.

That would just be wrong.

Cafe Spike

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