Father Christmas, the wealthy Lap toy manufacturer and philanthropist, has finally been released after a thirty-eight year kidnap ordeal.
Mr. Christmas had been seized in 1970 by some very, very naughty boys and girls.
News of his release has revealed a massive worldwide conspiracy to conceal the fate of the man known as “Santa Claus”. Parents had been instructed to maintain the appearance that Mr. Christmas was still visiting homes every Christmas Eve, by buying toys that he had previously given away for free.
Precise details of his capture and eventual release remain a closely-guarded secret, but a police spokesman announced they were looking for a Mr. Mattel and a Mr. Hasbro to help them with their enquiries.
A frail-looking Father Christmas could only raise a red-mittened thumbs up, and mutter something about his kidnappers being “on my list, and not my nice list.” before being placed on a plane bound for RAF Lineham for debriefing.
Father Christmas is expected to return to work this December.
Clowns are funny again – that’s the finding of a wide-ranging inquiry carried out by the Pop Culture Standardisation Commission, the results of which were leaked through a small plastic flower yesterday.
The report was welcomed as a breakthrough by the international clowning community. “For too long now our gaily-painted jackanapes have been shorthand for creepiness, scariness, sadness and perversion”, stated Scoopy, chairman of the Clowning or Capering Organisation. “Finally, audiences can once again titter, guffaw and laugh til they wee at the sight of our members throwing water at one another, tripping over their amusingly-sized shoes or standing silently in a dimly-lit corner of your bedroom at three in the morning.”
In related news, the Commission’s report recommended that stand-up comedians take the place of clowns as the universally-recognised avatar for all that is horrific in the world. “Imagine meeting Stewart Lee in a dark alley, and he just, like, smiles at you – brr!,” said Scoopy, “Or following Jimmy Carr into a storm drain where he cavorts with the bloated corpses of the damned.
“Or Jim Davidson. Just Jim Davidson. Imagine that.”
The brain of celebrated British comic author Alan Moore has announced that it no longer wishes to be associated with Alan Moore’s body.
“The very label of “Alan Moore’s brain” is, frankly, nonsensical and insulting. I wish henceforth to be known as ‘Nebulorr, virile and vengeful devourer of universes'”, the brain said in a statement released this weekend, continuing: “Or, no, actually I’ve always liked ‘Cyril’. I wish to be known as Cyril and worshipped as a deity and given virgins and lollipops every Thursday evening and I don’t think I’m being unreasonable. Any and all monies generated by the work I have produced in the past can go to Alan Moore’s typing fingers.”
Alan Moore’s body refused to comment beyond flicking two ornately-ringed fingers at its own head, where it is believed the portion of Alan Moore’s brain that intersects with our four-dimensional universe resides.
Alan Moore’s beard successfully separated from the acclaimed author last year, and currently writes The Gambols for the Daily Express.