Looking after a cheeseplant is not the simple job many people think it is, say horticulturalists. And with the festive season in full swing, many garden centres and florists will be seeing a last minute rush on these popular Christmas gifts.
“A cheeseplant is for life, not just for Christmas”, warns Oliver Tummock of the National Cheeseplant Information Bureau.
75% triffid and 25% psychopath, the cheeseplant is hell-bent on gaining control of your living room, house, and eventually the street you live on. Tummock advises owners to keep the leafy plant chained up and to play it ambient techno at least 3 times a week to keep it in optimum condition.
“And for crying out loud don’t let it make friends with any Japanese Knotweed. A and E departments are full enough at this time of year.”
Transport for London have launched a new initiative aimed at reducing the number of rucksack related injuries on the London Underground.
“Most passengers will, at some point during their day, experience a moron with a complete lack of spatial awareness clobbering them with a massive rucksack strapped to their back”, explains Head of Baggage Enforcement for TFL, Mark Sanderson. “Why a London commuter would think that rugged camping equipment is a suitable part of their business attire is frankly beyond me, but we will be taking direct action. Plain clothes Baggage Enforcement Officers will be riding the tube network during peak hours and will hand out on-the-spot fines to anyone flouting new rules. Research has shown that the average sized ruscksack worn on the back takes up as much space as a person, and being twatted in the face whilst seated is a very real issue for many passengers.”
Commuter groups are angry with the news. Rucksack user Jonty Hambling told us, “It’s so totally not fair. My Kevlar polar explorer’s rucksack is vital for carrying my desk diary, pens, iPad and sandwiches. How am I supposed to navigate the punishing environment of the Circle line when I have to take it off and carry it down by my side? I’m appalled.”
Rucksack users are advised to remove them and put them on the floor to avoid a fifty pound ticket, or twenty-five if paid within 14 days.
Scroll down on your Facebook newsfeed with a few flicks of your thumb. It won’t be long before you are confronted with a rogues’ gallery of people you don’t know in the ‘People you may know’ bar. The chances of you even having met any of these people is remote, but Facebook still seems to think you’re desperate to be friends with any old humanoid their algorithm has come up with.
What’s even odder is that some of them will have a friend who is mutual to you both. You won’t know who it is without clicking on their mugshots, but it’s fun to try and guess.
Our office team here at The Bluelands Gazette have been doing it all week. Reporter Allie Bourne has scored the highest so far, with 6 correct guesses out of a possible 11 suggested profile pics. “I had no idea my friends knew so many weirdos”, says Allie. “I’ve never met the bloke with the purple Mohican and cobweb facial tattoo, I thought he might be mates with Mickey Fish who used to work down the morgue. Turns out he’s my nan’s street dance teacher.”
Editor-in-Chief Laurie Hepworth has done well too. “There was this picture of a woman wearing a hand-knitted beanie, a nose ring, and holding a cucumber. She looked like she might be a vegan, which would make our mutual friend Mollie Nutbutter, who is a rampant vegan. I was right, and the cucumber is a re-incarnation of her granddad.”
New evidence has come to light that has sent scientists, theologians and people reeling. Long thought by many to be a load of cobblers, the case for re-incarnation may now have to be re-examined, after secret lab tests on supermarket fruit suggest that deceased vegans may be sitting in your fruit bowl at home.
We met with practising Buddhist, Tristan Sparrow, who told us, “It’s what we have always suspected. Vegans are at one with nature and have been rewarded with the highest accolade the universe could bestow upon us; full transubstantiation from the human form, to the fruit form.” Sparrow meets us in his local vegan cafe seated cross-legged on a giant velvet cushion. The cafe may smell of B.O. and geranium leaves, but this self-confessed hippy has been gladly offering his support to fellow vegans, ever since the news broke. “This isn’t easy for people to take in. I’m here to show them that being eaten in the afterlife is perfectly natural.”
However, Doctor Kathryn Hartz from the University of Tewkesbury, is unconvinced. “This news is horrible, just horrible. I’ve had to chuck a punnet of peaches in the bin because I noticed one of them looked like my Uncle Kevin, who was a hardcore vegan. I nearly cut him in half and whacked his stone out with a knife.”
A stroll around the restaurants of London’s Covent Garden reveals a different mood altogether. The chefs we spoke to don’t seem bothered that they have spent their careers cooking with metaphysical lifeforms. “It’s all food, innit?” shrugs Carl Smith, a sous chef at a popular brasserie. “I have no problem with peeling and chopping vegans and baking them in a crumble. I might even wait until they’re dead.” He adds, “I’m joking by the way.”
Leading vegan author Olivia Shepherd is happy to eat her vegan ancestors. “The circle of life is complete. We will provide nourishment for other vegans, and non-vegans if we have to, after we’re gone. We’ll be keeping it ‘in the family’ so to speak.” We point out to her that this is technically cannibalism. She smiles. “Cannibalism in this case is justified by the means.”
Non-vegans are reportedly being re-incarnated as non-vegans, news of which has been gladly received by everyone.
It has been revealed that a low dosage of alcohol in the bloodstream at all times is the best way to guarantee happiness. “Due to the shitty weather we have in this country and the simple fact that most Brits hate their jobs, we need to do something to combat our innate sense of nihilism”, says Dr. Jemima Proulx of NGO The Happiness Forum. “A glass of wine or bottle of beer every hour, on the hour, will ensure the brain is kept at a level of sociable torpor that will make people respond positively to you. You will come across as affable, carefree, and a bit mental. This will make you popular and subsequently happy.”
The study, headed up by Dr Proulx, suggests that the effects of alcohol-induced likeability work the other way as well. The slightly pissed are far more likely to find people they normally can’t stand to be suddenly engaging and hilarious. If the other person is borderline mullered as well, a lasting friendship can form, for as long as the level of blood alcohol is maintained at just over the drink-drive limit.
However, Dr. Proulx adds a note of caution. “Your liver will be pretty much fucked by the time you’re 40.”
Amateur athletes who train for and compete in triathlons are unbelievably boring, suggests a damning report published today. The report reveals that these people think being a triathlete makes them appear fascinating and courageous to their work colleagues and complete strangers, but it apparently only underlines that they need a pointless activity to add meaning to their otherwise hollow lives.
Shirley Flapps, of The British Triathlon Society, has angrily refuted these claims. “Our members have reported a huge rise in perceived popularity when they tell others about their training regimes and daily calorific intake requirements. For example, one of our members told me that during a recent company training course, when each delegate was asked to introduce themselves to the group and mention one interesting fact about themselves, merely telling the others about his upcoming triathlon caused everyone to fall silent in rapt awe. So impressed were they with his lengthy explanation of how he hopes to lead a more meaningful life through the transformative power of an extreme physical challenge, that no one even spoke to him during the lunch break.”