Police are conducting a city wide search for a group of youths who callously left a pal hanging in a busy street, last Thursday evening, while out on the town drinking.
Reports suggest the group were out celebrating a work related job promotion, for one of the group, when the incident occurred.
Witness Mary Celeste, 18, told us "I saw the gang, ya know, kinda walkin' past, laughin', jokin' an' that! Fought one of 'em was well fit, but the ovver lot were proper mingin'! They was tellin' jokes an' that, y'know?"
"I just saw 'em movin' from one bar to the next, they was drinkin' an' that, but who don't? I know I was proper wrecked, even well before Deano nailed me behind the bins!"
Spook detective and International Talker Of Bollocks, Derek Acorah has sensationally channelled Princess Diana from beyond the grave, to seek approval for William and Kate's impending matrimony.
The craggy faced Liverpudlian ghost worrier told reporters that Di had tried contacting him on several occassions, but he was always out on business.
However, all that changed two nights ago.
Derek was having a cup of tea and a digestive, when Diana, Doer of Good, came through on a freephone line from Heaven.
A spokesman for Acorah told us "Derek was well chuffed. Surprised, but chuffed! He asked what it was like up there, but she was not very talkative, more interested in getting the message to her son. Typical Di, always putting others first."
The reason behind the recent bloodshed raging between North and South Korea, has been sensationally revealed by our man in the field Lenny Presbatyn.
Lenny told us by crackly video-phone, this afternoon "I have discovered that a high ranking official in the North Korean army lent, what appears to be a pencil, to an opposition officer in the South."
"He asked nicely for it back, but the pencil was not forthcoming, so the North started bombing the shit outta the South," at this point the picture was cut as a huge explosion erupted just yards from Lenny.
We managed to contact Lenny several hours later by mobile telephone, when he had made his way back to his hotel in Seoul.
After reports this week that a US bomb disposal expert has been given the go-ahead to sue the makers of hit Academy Award winning film 'The Hurt Locker', due to his 'likeness' being stolen for use as the lead role in the film, other people are lining up to pursue a similar undertaking.
Daniel Rathbone, 67, a retired cab driver from New York, is set to sue Martin Scorcese, as he claims he worked for 42 years as a 'Taxi Driver' and therefore lays claim to profits made from the film about his life.
Although he admits to never stalking a presidential campaigner, nor was he a Vietnam war veteran, he did drive a distinctive yellow cab during the night, so the film bares a remarkable resemblance to the story of his life.
Actor and huge star (well, OK not Robert Pattinson, the reallymassive star) of teenage fan favourite series Twilight, Bronson Pelletier (that's the wolf one) was treated to a broken nose in Birmingham, UK this weekend.
The actor was attending a sci-fi convention when a fight broke out between rival groups The Trekkies and the George Lucas owned Star Wars Fanatics.
Tempers flared when a simple question and answer session involving Mark Hamill sparked a mini-riot. The Star Wars actor angered Star Trek fans by claiming any of the Jedi's would easily kick James T Kirk's heiny any day of the week.
Passing fans of Star Trek overheard the comments and awaited Hamill's exit from the convention's classroom. When they set upon the shocked actor, Star Wars enthusiasts rushed to his assistance.
Carlsberg was a huge city. To the common man it was a jumble of wood and stone, with no rhyme or reason in it's construction.
But to the more open mind it was a beautiful showcase of architecture. It's parks were immaculate and well tended. And it was regarded throughout the land as the forefront of cultural and academic studies.
The main streets were pristine, and it prided itself on it's sheer enormous choice of retail outlets, museums and galleries.
On the flip side the cities small winding alleyways held secrets. Admittedly not all of them good. Crime was up in the city, with street mugging the number one fashion of the day.
But to wander the safer parts of town, on a warm spring morning such as this, it made you feel alive and yet a part of this living breathing, stone being.
Dr Carl Von Haelstrom was a tall, rakish man. He cut quite a figure in his half cape and top hat. He was a man of stature in the community, known for his superior knowledge on matters of the strange, and his innate understanding and compassion for the common man.
John Bray strode through the delapidated gate way. Towering wrought iron gates clung to what was left of the supporting pillars, entwined with all manner of bramble and bracken.
The gates were wedged open, looking as though they had not been shut in many years.
The gravel crunched underfoot, and still the rain beat down. Drumming in to his skull with the precision of a metronome.
He looked toward what appeared to be the main entrance of the castle. In various windows on the castle front the welcoming flicker of firelight shone out, like a beacon in the night.
Reaching the porch, Bray leapt up the stairs two at a time, and breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the top, and the relative protection of the roof.
As he wrung his sodden clothes, he heard the far off cry of a wolf. In quick response an answer was called, this time somewhat closer. Bray shuddered and stepped forward, facing the huge oak doors.
Jack Smith, 860, died last night in a terrifying fall from his beanstalk.
The hero of the children's story had lived alone there ever since killing the Giant.
The adventurer rose to fame when he misguidedly swapped a cow for magic beans. His furious mother banished him to bed and famously threw the beans away.
After climbing the resultant beanstalk and stealing lots of artefacts from the Giant, Jack tried to win his girlfriends affection.
He then allegedly killed the Giant in a raged attack, and was found days later with blood stained hands. Jack was never convicted. He hired Johnnie Cochrane, of O.J Simpson fame, to handle the trial, and was found not guilty.
During the trial, the golden egg laying hen was mysteriously found roasted, on the day she was due to give evidence. Again Jack was cleared of any wrongdoing.
A local man died while on the telephone to Virgin Media, a court heard today.
The post-mortem hearing concerned Clive Pheebs, 43, who was attempting to report a fault on the line of a number he was trying to reach, when the death occurred.
"Mr Pheebs had noticed after many unsuccessful attempts to dial an unspecified number, that there was a possible fault on the line," said Coroner Donald Brigstock, "he was sure it was not his line at fault, but that of the company he was attempting to contact, as he had successfully recieved and dialled several calls himself already that day."
"Upon finding a number for BT Fault Reporting, after an extensive internet search, a 10 minute battle with an automated system ensued, in which he had to choose which department he required, which number he was calling from, what he'd had for breakfast and which colour underpants he'd chosen that morning. He finally reached a vaguely human being."
The year was 1802.
And it was raining.
John Louis Bray hated the rain. He had been unceremoniously dropped at the crossroads a few hundred yards back. Protesting to the driver of the carriage that it was unfair, and even offering extra funds to complete the journey, the driver had firmly told him in broken English 'no'.
The coach was to go no further. For all the money in the world.
A huge crack of thunder echoed out across the mountain range, followed by a bolt of lightning, arcing across the night sky and illuminating the area in vivid white light.
The path Bray was on was set between dense forest on either side. Looking up at the sliver of sky between the parted forest rooftop, Bray beheld a breathtaking sight.
Cher Lloyd, the weird faced odd bod of X-Factor, has admitted to reporters that she suffered a minor stroke two years ago, causing her to start dancing the way she does.
"She broke down and admitted that a stroke had hit her hard, and caused her leg to do that Monty Python style half raised jerk, like in the Silly Walks sketch," said Graham Bottsnatch, Cher's friend.
Her constant gurning and nasal rap 'technique', which has been annoying veiwers far and wide for weeks, is really beginning to get on people's tit's.
