Tom “Indiana” Jones and the Temple of Icke – Part 6

Tom Jones, the man so virile that saying his name three times makes you pregnant starred down into the steam filled cavern, what greeted his eyes sickened him. Hundreds of cult followers were crammed into the cave all facing the gigantic stone effigy of Latoya Jackson. Below the grotesque idol dressed in the robes of a Norwegian death metal bassist stood Icke revelling in the awe of his disciples.

“LATOYA MA!” roared Icke sending the assembled mass into further frenzied chanting. Clapping his hands in the air in signal two worshipers began to beat on drums whilst Mr Alan Titchmarsh appeared with a struggling prisoner.

Wee jimmy looked on in horror “what are they doing Dr Jones?”

“They pray to Latoya, goddess of terrible music, they mean to make a sacrifice” said Jones barely taking his eyes of the scene below.

The prisoner had been stripped to the waist and had lost much of his spirit; Titchmarsh slapped him across the face and forced him to towards the crowd.

Jones made an intake of breath; it was mild mannered reporter John Craven formerly of John Cravens Newsround. He had retired from journalism some time ago but it was often said that he carried on his search for the truth despite his retirement. It seemed that his search would end tonight in the depths of the castle.

Mr Alan Titchmarsh locked Craven into a cage suspended on long iron chains over a door in the floor of the evil alter.

Icke loomed in close to John Craven and began to recite “LATAOYA MA, LATOYA MA” over and over whilst holding his hand against the mild mannered reporter’s chest.

Either to block out the noise or to somehow protect himself Craven began to call out his own mantra “Krishnan Guru-Murthy, Krishnan Guru-Murthy, Krishnan Guru-Murthy….”.

Without warning Icke plunged his hand into John Cravens chest and pulled out his still beating heart “LATOYA MA!!!” he screamed.

His audience went crazy, gripped in their fervent fanaticism they beat their chests like gorillas and shouted back the unholy name of their god.

“My God, he’s still alive” commented Jones to Wee Jimmy who was dry retching in the corner.

John Craven continued to chant despite having no heart and Titchmarsh ordered men to lift up the cage and open the trapdoor. Hot gasses vented up out from the now open passage and more red light spilled out.

“We must be directly over the Isle of Wight volcano; it has been thought to have been extinct since the birth of Bruce Forsyth over a million years ago”.

The chanting had reached fever pitch now as Icke whipped up the crowd, then with a sudden downward arm slash he signalled the men to drop the cage into the molten rock below. In his other hand he held aloft the heart of the bastion of children’s news until it set alight the moment its owner hit the fiery hell below.

The show over the worshippers started to file out below and Jones could see many more familiar faces than at dinner: Pete Waterman, Simon Cowell, Rick Astley and Sonia.

Once the cave was completely empty Jones turned to Wee Jimmy “I’ve got to get down there Boyo” he said stripping off his shirt to reveal his luxuriously hairy chest.

“But why Dr Jones, lets just get out of here, this place is crazy!” pleaded Jimmy.

“For them” said Jones simply, pointing to the alter below. Jimmy peered down and saw the object of his interest, a turntable and collection of records.

Using his natural Welsh strength Jones easily scaled the glass like walls of the cavern and made it to the alter. The hideous figure of Latoya Jackson grinned manically down at him over its inhuman features. Slowly with many furtive glances around Jones walked towards the turntable a faint sound of static in the air. On the table were three albums on vinyl by: The Who, The Doors and Jimmy Hendrix. It looked as if there was a place for two others as well but they were missing. Slowly revolving on the turntable was the single Nutbush City Limits by Tina Turner, Jones grabbed this as well and stuffed them into the Netto bag Jimmy had supplied him with.

Jimmy could do nothing but bite his nails with apprehension whilst watching from above. Jones gave him a wave then disappeared behind the alter into the tunnels beyond.

“Where the hell you going Dr Jones” Jimmy exclaimed softly but Jones was too far away to hear. Sitting down grumpily he didn’t see the massive shadow pass behind him until it was too late and a chubby hand grabbed at his soldier. He spun round to face the podgy grimace of Phil Jupitus “Gotcha little spy, we are going to have fun with you!”

Tom “Indiana” Jones and the Temple of Icke – Part 5

Tom Jones the man once excommunicated from the Catholic Church for bedding an entire nunnery, sat on his bed contemplating the night’s events. Something in the castle just didn’t add up and he meant to find out what it was. After quickly conferring with Wee Jimmy both the heroes had turned in for the evening, in the hope that a good nights sleep would help them route out the corruption lurking within the castle walls.

Tom however always found it hard to nod off without first bringing a nubile young lady as close to Nirvana as a mortal could get.

The candles were doused in the luxurious room with the only illumination being moonlight filtering through a veiled window. Just on the edge of hearing Tom thought he discerned a faint noise like silk being pulled over a stone, and then the rope was around his neck. Immediately grabbing for his throat he stood and tried to wrestle free, his assailant however had a firm grip and the cord stated to bite into his flesh. The force of the rope on his larynx prevented him from shouting for help so instead he tried brute force. He pulled forward, dragging his attacker off the bed and forced him to turn. Then with all his power propelled himself backwards against the wall, crushing the man behind. The rope slacked and Jones quickly freed himself, now it was time to show this would be murderer how they fight in the valleys. A quick right hook sent the black robed figure flying back across the bed, he was soon back up though, and this time brandishing a knife.

“Don’t be a fool man” cried Jones but too late. The attacker pounced, tom grabbed him and they struggled face to face. Suddenly the knife wielder went limp, Jones pulled away to reveal that in the fight his adversary had accidentally stabbed himself. Wee Jimmy burst into the room like a midget whirlwind, alerted by the shouting and noise of battle. He found his master checking the bodies pulse “He dead, poor fellow” sighed Jones.

He removed the mans mask whilst Jimmy lit a candle and brought it over, in the flickering light they could see it was Terry Christian of Channel 4’s recently cancelled TV show The Word.

“Icke must have convinced him he would resurrect his career, not that there was anything to resurrect. He must have come from somewhere though, Jimmy help me search this place.”

After ten minutes Wee Jimmy found a door marked “dungeon” in the corner just next to the en-suite bathroom. Tentatively Jones pushed it open to reveal a stairwell leading straight down, on the wall was a painted mural depicting Tina Turner. He ran his fingers over the flaking paint reading “Follow in the footsteps of Tina”.

They descended several flights of stairs deep into the bowls of the castle, until they found themselves in a low ceiling corridor slick with damp and mould. There was very little light and the two adventurers had to stoop low to traverse its gloomy path. At the end of the corridor they entered into a much larger room and Wee Jimmy risked lighting a candle they had brought with them from upstairs. The floor was littered with skeletons, but one fresh body was lying by the far wall, there were thick rivulets of blood streaming out of both his ears. Wee Jimmy shuddered “What happened to him Dr Jones?”

“I don’t know Jimmy but let’s get out of here, it has the feel of a trap about it” answered Jones heading for the door. Jimmy looked about the room, and then noticed a bottle of whiskey on a shelf. It seemed rude not to take it….

“No Jimmy!” cried Tom leaping back too late. Jimmy’s Scottish genetic programming had sprung the trap, the doors began to close and from speakers hidden in the ceiling Cotton Eye Joe by Rednex began blaring out, felling both of them.

Luckily Tom had been born with the ability to close his ears at will, which allowed him to reach inhuman notes that would otherwise shatter the eardrums of lesser performers. After a brief attack from the eurodance biohazard Jones was able to block it out. Grabbing Jimmy he barely made it through the closing door in time.

After a moment to revive Jimmy then punch him, the two set off again. It became gradually warmer and soon a red glow could be seen in the distance along with an unpleasant sulphur like smell. As they drew closer chanting could be heard, they eased through a small opening in the rock wall and onto ledge over a vast cave. The sight that greeted them chilled the very marrow of their bones.

Tom “Indiana” Jones and the Temple of Icke – Part 4

It took the party several hours by giant dormouse to reach the castle along the overgrown islands roads. Wee Jimmy sweated profusely, unused to the near tropical climate of 22° “Dr Jones are we nearly there, this mouse is starting to smell almost as bad as me”

Jones, twice winner of the special services to the knickers industry award, turned to their guide Trevor who pointed into the distance.

Through the vegetation they saw the tower of the castle, a flag depicting an upright lizard could be seen fluttering in the afternoon breeze.

A figure loomed out of the bushes ahead, meeting the travellers head on “Greetings, and welcome to Carisbrooke Castle, My name is Alan Titchmarsh, but you may call me Mr Alan Titchmarch”.

Trevor screamed and reigning in his mouse, escaped as fast as he could, leaving Tom and Wee Jimmy alone with Mr Alan Titchmarsh.

Titchmarsh smiled greasily “I was out picking flowers for the castle; I am the masters head gardener. If you would follow me I will escort you to the castle and you will be made welcome. There is to be a feast tonight”. He bowed low and it was only then that they noticed his strange garb. He wore only fishing waders and a bowler hat, his privates being covered in a hunk of mud.

Wee Jimmy made to say something but was silenced with a look from Jones who answered the insane gardener. “That would be lovely, please lead the way”.

After a few moments they reached the castle grounds, it was not the ruin Tom had been expecting, everywhere hippies were at work rebuilding walls or toiling in the gardens.

They were shown to rooms in one of the guest wings of the castle and given fresh clothes, though pleasant Dr Jones and Jimmy couldn’t help but feel a shadow of malevolence over the entire castle. At six o clock they were invited to the great feast, Tom strode down the castle corridors like a man at home, however Wee Jimmy shuffled with great trepidation.

As they sat down in the great hall, Wee Jimmy took note of the assembled diners; it was a demonic guest list. Mr Alan Titchmarsh sat at one end then down from him were, The Osbournes, Mark King of Level 42, Jeremy Irons, Phill Jupitus and Ellen MacArthur. On the other side were people he didn’t recognise, they may have been politicians as they had an air of corruption about them. Somewhere a tubular bell tolled and the assembled sycophants rose to greet the new Lord of Carisbrooke Castle, David Icke.

Icke’s deranged eyes went round the table taking in the faces, momentarily stopping on Jones though he showed no reaction. Then he smiled seating himself at the head of the table and indicating everyone else should sit too.

Phill Jupitus rubbed his hands together his bearded face shining with unconcealed glee “This will be a real treat” he proclaimed as hippie servants entered carrying covered silver platters. Despite his fears Wee Jimmy’s stomach begins to rumble and he decided that eating whatever delicacies were offered should be his first priority.

The servant removed the lid; it was a platter of square sausages, turkey twizzlers and chicken nuggets with clear pus leaking from them.

Wee Jimmy gagged, even in his most depraved Scottish moments of deep frying boiled eggs he would never touch a turkey twizzler. Jupitus had no such qualms and quickly demolished the whole portion, belching loudly much to the amusement of Ellen MacArthur.

Jones ignored the food and engaged their host in conversation “We came from a village, they said a sacred album had been stolen, and their weed taken”. A cold silence engulfed the table as eyes searched around the guests. Mark King quickly piped up “Rumours Dr Jones, nothing more. These Hippies are little more than animals they…”

Jones quickly cut him off “They said a new evil had come to Carisbrooke Castle, that the Carisbrooke cult was again growing powerful.”

The next plate of food arrived, Wee Jimmy was hopeful for something edible, but his request was soon dashed as the cover was removed to reveal, Dr Brains Faggots in gravy.

Icke turned his solemn eyes on Jones. “I too have heard these rumours of an ancient cult and such, I though they were told to frighten celebrities, then later I found out that they were true. Let me assure you Dr Jones, and everyone here, that whilst I am Lord of Carisbrooke such things can never happen again.” With that he returned to his meal leaving Jones no option but to do likewise.

“Ahh dessert!” exclaimed Jupitus, gravy smothered over his face.

“What is it” asked Wee Jimmy carefully.

“Sarah Lee chocolate cake, it has been out for an hour and is still frozen in the middle, mmn delicious”.

After the meal Dr Jones and Jimmy returned to their rooms to discuss what they had each found out. Jones the Welsh Legend was sure something stank, and it wasn’t just Wee Jimmy.

Tom “Indiana” Jones and the Temple of Icke – Part 3

Tom Jones twice winner of the Nobel Love Prize, climbed down from Wee Jimmy’s shoulders onto the soft white sand of the Isle of Wight.

The windswept hippie ancient was babbling incoherently now, with only snatches of words and band names making sense. Tom cautiously padded over and with great tenderness punched him in the face. “Stop talking like a pepper mill boyo, what is the matter with you?”

The flower power disciple picked himself up from the sand and wiped his blood smeared mouth “Thank you venerable master Jones, it has been so long since I have been in the presence of greatness that I forget myself. Please follow me to our village and you will find refreshment from your travels.” He bowed low then turned and disappeared into the undergrowth.

“I don’t like this Dr Jones, that thing was creepy” stated Wee Jimmy.

“Don’t fear them Jimmy, they were men once like us. Besides we will need a guide out of this godforsaken place.”

They followed the surprisingly sprightly pacifist into the dense Wightian undergrowth until they emerged into a clearing. In its centre was the hippie commune, a dirty ramshackle excuse of a village, it seemed that due to lack of building materials they had built their homes from excrement. Wee Jimmy caught a whiff on the breeze and quickly vomited his breakfast of porridge and iron brew all over a kneeling woman. She didn’t even react but simply continued to rock back and forth chanting.

They were escorted into one of the larger poo huts and given a meal of sticks and hand collected rainwater. After a few moments the village elder came in, he was a short man naked save for a ginormous beard that covered most of his body. He gave the visitors a low bow and seated himself cross legged before them, after a moment he indicated they should speak.

“Morning Hippie Lord, we are travellers in your land and need to return to the mainland, have you someone who could guide us to the port at Norton? Enquired Jones.

“Trevor will guide you, on the way you will stop at Carisbrooke Castle”,

Jones looked puzzled “but Carisbrooke is not on the way to Norton, and anyway the place has been abandoned since the mutiny in 1975 hasn’t it?”

The old village chief shook his head morosely “No, a new Lord resides in Carisbrooke Castle now and the castle is powerful again. It is Carisbrooke that kills my village.” Indy shook his head to explain he didn’t understand and the old fruit continued. “The evil starts in Carisbrooke, then like a light drizzle it moves discontent over the island. They came from Carisbrooke and took the ‘Live’”.

Wee Jimmy gave Jones a quizzical look forcing him to explain. “It’s a sacred album, The Who Live on The Isle of Wight”.

The naked chief looked deep into Toms eyes “Its is why The Who have sent you to us, you will go to Carisbrooke, find the ‘Live’ and bring it back to us”.

Jones shook his head softly. “Sorry pops but we just need to get out of here, besides why would this new Lord take the album?”

The elders face grew dark and he answered “The Lord uses it bring forth evil, he says we must pray also. We said no, then he took the sacred disc. That is when our crops die and the women deny us free love. Then…..” the hippie suddenly had huge tears in his eyes and his head dropped. “Then they took our weed”.

Tom almost fell backwards in shock, truly this was evil. To steal the weed from a hippie village was to tear its heart out. With grim determination he stood up in the sewage made house. “Ok old fella, I will find the ‘Live’ and bring back your weed”.

The village elder stood also and bowed saying “We knew you would, for you are the Tom Jones”.

Tom “Indiana” Jones and the Temple of Icke – Part 2

Dr Jones (presented with an honorary doctorate in “Deep Love” by Bangor University in 1987) sat on board Nails Lear Jet sipping Dom Perignon from a pint glass. The sky had started to lighten outside and dawn would soon break over the country. Jones had instructed his sidekick Wee Jimmy Krankie to fly them to the south of France. Tom had been without a woman for almost twelve hours, it would now take the combined efforts of the Monaco Ladies Beach Volleyball team to return him to full strength.

Suddenly whilst Tom daydreamed of the frolics to come the cabin lost all pressure and the plane began to go into a steep dive, before Jones had time to ask Wee Jimmy what had happened a shot was fired just above his head. Turning he saw just by the open cabin door the symbiotic hit men Robson and Jerome. Both were wearing parachutes and I ♥ Soldier Soldier T-shirts. Tom realised that they must have been hiding in the toilets the entire time and had soon discovered that Nail was not on board.

Robson stepped forward waving his pistol at him before Tom had time to react.

“Not so fast Jones, we have the last two parachutes and have cut the fuel lines, soon our master will reward us for destroying you”.

Jerome the “host” of the relationship poked his head round from behind Robson and shook his fist menacingly.

Just then Wee Jimmy burst out of the cockpit running at full pelt into Nails henchmen, Robson tried in vain to get out of the way but was caught up in the legs of his partner causing them to topple out of the open door, quickly swept away into the clouds.

“Good job Jimmy, can you get this crate back in the air?” asked Jones relaxing his coiled physique.

“No Good Dr Jones, no fuel and this plane no built for gliding!” said jimmy picking up his school cap.

Tom stroked his chin thoughtfully then began to rummage through the cupboards and overhead lockers.

“Aha! Quick Jimmy try to get us as low as possible, I think I have an idea” explained Jones starting to pull things out of a cupboard marked “Private”.

Within moments Wee Jimmy was back after levelling out the plane and setting it to autopilot. He returned to find Jones lashing together blow up dolls with dental floss.

“Hey Dr Jones this is no time for love!”

“Shut up Boyo and get on” cried the Welsh legend.

Jimmy obeyed and Jones used his powerful abdominal thrust to force them through the cabin door and out into the awaiting sky.

Freefall.

The sea rushed up to meet the escaping heroes hitting them like a solid wall, luckily the blow up dolls took the brunt of the impact and they were able to hang on.

Several of the less well made dolls had burst, however the sturdier vinyl ones held and Jones instructed Wee Jimmy to start paddling them into the coast while he rearrange his hair.

After about an hour they reached a windswept sandy beach and Wee Jimmy waded ashore with Dr Jones on his shoulders. Jones passed his enquiring eye over the terrain “This isn’t France Jimmy, I think we landed a bit prematurely”.

Just then a figure dressed in ragged flairs and bright orange shirt shambled out of the bushes. He was in his sixties with a long white beard and had laurel of plastic can holders around his head. He saw them on the beach and began running towards them shouting. “Have you brought it back? Please I have been here for so long, have you brought it back?”

Jones’s eyes went wide with comprehension. “My God! One of the Lost Festival People of 1970, we thought them extinct”.

Wee Jimmy looked puzzled and said “but where are we Dr Jones and what does it mean?”

Jones’s face turned grave. “We are on the Isle of Wight Jimmy, and it means…..trouble”

Tom “Indiana” Jones and the Temple of Icke – Part 1

Its 1995 and everyone’s favourite welsh pop singer is halfway through a powerful performance of Delilah at Newcastle’s top venue The Stage Door. Tom is as ever wowing the ladies with his patented hip gyrations when suddenly the notorious gangster Jimmy Nail bursts in scattering the assembled lovelies.

Jimmy’s goons (the cast of auf wiedersehen pet) quickly surround the stage and aggressively point their automatic weapons on Wales’s number one son.

“Way Aye Jones, you stole me Crocodile Shoes Man! I want em back” screamed the furious Geordie.

“Those shoes are a crime against fashion Boyo, I destroyed them as you should have done long ago Jimmy” Tom calmly explained whilst secretly motioning to the karaoke machine behind his back.

Nail exploded unleashing a tirade of insults that would put Dockers to shame, meanwhile behind the stage Tom’s sidekick Wee Jimmy Krankie carefully made his way to the fat bird magnet.

“Hadaway man, you must by lying, cos if your not you’re a deed man. Oootside Noooo!” cried the tragic pop crooner Nail.

“Now Wee Jimmy!” roared Jones to the karaoke machine in the corner.

Suddenly the air was filled with Gazza’s rendition of “Fog on the Tyne” and the Geordie mobsters were transfixed by their regional anthem, forcing them to salute, a single tear rolling down Nails cheek.

Jones losing no time ran from the nightclub with Wee Jimmy following as fast as his diminutive stature would allow.

Outside they found two bouncers who were still dealing with the riddle Nail had bamboozled them with to get past.

“Is it a Coal ship do ya think?”

“Nooo Man he said, on what kind of ships do students study?”

Tom saw that they were both on the verge of mental collapse and would be of no use holding off the chasing goons. Luckily Wee Jimmy saw their escape route parked on double yellows across the street. Nail had left his private Lear jet open with the engine running.

“Quick Mr Jones, to the Jet”

“You’re a marvel Shorty” complemented Jones

“I keep telling you, you listen to me more, you live longer!” explained Wee Jimmy racing to the plane.

Within minutes Wee Jimmy had the plane ready for takeoff, having learnt to fly whilst accompanying Jones on his many international travels.

“Step on it Wee Jimmy” called Tom whilst trying to find something to drink that wasn’t Newcastle Brown Ale in the bar.

“Okey Dokey Mr Jones, hold onto your leeks!”

Nail stepped over the unconscious bouncers into the crisp nigh air just as the jet took off. He watched it climb away into the murky night sky and began to laugh.

Manx-Lev Power

Top Boffins at the Isle of Man Scientific Institute unveiled their vision for the future of world power production today, named simply the Manx-Lev Power Generator

The institute has let very few technical details slip so far, for fear that “mainlanders” might steal the idea. However a full press conference was held today to introduce this revolutionary technology to the assembled world’s media. The conference was held at the institutes head offices in Douglas, lunch was provided by Appetites sandwich bar.

Professor James Mac Brew, Head Researcher for the scientific team gave a brief overview of the new discovery.

From what we were able to understand the main principles involved are genetic engineering and magnetism, principally magnetic levitation.

Magnetic levitation is the use of magnets to reduce friction between moving parts, thus improving efficiency. This technology although already widely accepted has been difficult to implement previously. This is where the team’s second scientific breakthrough comes into play.

At first the scientists had toyed with the idea of creating some sort of massive wind turbine but as the Isle of Man is a little over three square miles this idea was quickly dismissed.

The team started to look at what resources were available on the tiny island state and soon found their answer, cats. The Isle of Man is literally crawling with over 200,000 Manx Cats. Most of these animals are feral and wander the hills of the island picking off tourists in the summer season, which is why for the most part they are left alone. However the team realised that they could be harnessed to spectacular effect in their renewable energy scheme.

Manx cats have no tails and thus are a firm favourite with children for inserting fireworks into their anuses. The team decided that with some genetic alteration and minor surgery the cats could have three magnetically levitated propellers inserted into their rectum. With the islands healthy population of Manx felines the scientific institute believe they have stumbled upon an almost limitless supply of power. The cats could be bred in the lab and after the minor operation to insert the Maglev device set free into the hills to wander as far as their flex allowed.

With 90% of the Isle of Man population living without electricity (mainly due to their cave dwelling) the local government has already put an order in for three thousand units. These will have flex with a socket on the end allowing for the local populace to plug into a passing cat when the need arises and without interfering too much with their tribe like existence.

The Institute are keen to begin exporting the generators to all the nations of the earth. At the moment the Manx-Lev factory is running twenty-four hours a day to try to create the estimated one million units the institute believes it will sell in the first few months. Professor Mac Brew said “We just can’t get the cats to screw fast enough! You should hear the noise, we had to sound proof the entire building”.

The Isle of Man Government who were also represented at the conference said that they would be willing to sell the technology under licence if certain conditions were met, such as a hostage trade. Although not stated who the hostages would be it is common knowledge that the island is very keen to extradite Norman Wisdom, possibly for the return of the Bee Gees.

Dwayne TV

Dwayne the new Channel from UKTV – “The home of Burberry Banality”

(04:00 – 06:00) Home Shopping Special

Blazin Squad talk us through this seasons must haves from Reebok Classics to Lacoste tops. There will also be a track suit catwalk show and important “how to” guides, including the importance of tucking tracksuit bottoms in to trainers and creating the perfect Croydon facelift.

(06:00 – 09:00) You’ve got a job get up!

Jade Goody laughs for three hours to get you out of the house and off to work. If you don’t have a job there is no chance you will be up anyway, unless maybe its giro day.

(09:00 – 12:00) This Morning with Peter and Jordon

Everyone’s favourite couple host the popular daytime show with a mixture of celebrity z list guests, bad advice, microwave cooking and Jordan’s massive baps.

(12:00 – 13:00) Slack Tarts

The popular panel show where four women cackle like witches whilst recounting tales of sex in night club toilets.

(13:00 – 14:00) The Sun News

Lunchtime news by the UK’s biggest selling newspaper. Top story, apparently the polish have taken all our jobs and eaten them, something funny about a bear crapping on a mans head, then fifty minutes of sport followed by topless weather.

(14:00 – 15:00) The Jeremy Kyle Show

Jeremy confronts strangers in the street then proceeds to tell them why they are idiots with bad personal hygiene and unfulfilled lives. In this episode Jeremy tells a mentally disabled woman why she is rubbish but he is brilliant.

(15:00 – 15:30) Dial M for…..

Adult education program where each day a letter is chosen and then words starting with that letter are discussed, slowly.

(15:30 – 16:00) Countdown

Game Show where contestants watch a clock countdown.

(16:00 – 17:00) What’s in the Box?

Noel Edmunds puts something in a box, waits five minutes then asks contestants to remember what was in it.

(17:00 – 18:00) Neighbours

Fly on the wall documentary following the antics of the residents of “Footballers Street”. This week Wayne and Coleen go electrical shopping and buy memory sticks so they won’t have to remember things.

(18:00 – 19:00) Jim Davidson’s Eating in Africa

Every Week Jim Davidson visits a new African town and eats a six course meal in front of the malnourished residents.

(19:00 – 22:00) Scum (Movie)

Amazing special effects in tonight’s movie as a mirror is projected onto your TV screen.

(22:00 – 23:00) The History of White Socks

Documentary. Danniella Westbrook narrates the fascinating story of white socks and their use in modern British society.

(23:00 – 00:00) Question Time

This evening guest include Kerry Katona explaining just why mums go to Iceland. Michael Carroll on how to make a million and Danny Dyer on his new movie “Generic Cockney Geezer”.

Kim Jong-il Part 1

An Extract from “The Official History of the Democratic Peoples Republic of Korea”

Comrade Kim Jong-il, General Secretary of the Workers Party of Korea, Supreme Commander of the Revolutionary armed forces and Captain of the Korean Adult Film Club was born atop of Baekdu Mountain at six o clock in the morning. His birth was heralded by the appearance of a quadruple rainbow, clap of thunder and the release of Bambi by Walt Disney.

Jong-il is the son of Kim il-Sung the founder and great leader of the Peoples Republic. His immortal exploits are covered fully in the previous chapter however he was the son of Kim Hyŏng-jik inventor of penicillin and gold. His father was Kim Bo-hyon whom Karl Marx stole the idea of Communism from in the 1840’s.

Kim Jong-il was a bright child and was able to walk by the age of three weeks, talk by eight weeks and had completed his first Manifesto on the future of the Korean People by the age of two years.

A keen sportsman Jong-il was Captain of all games at his school, where he was privately tutored. He was also captain of the chess, bridge, charades and biscuit club.

He was a consistent A grade student and would always be top of his class of one, despite the disappearance of over twenty of his tutors.

By the age of ten Kim Jung-il had invented many new items such as radial tyres, holograms and the microwave oven. Since then these inventions have been stolen from the people of Korea and cruelly claimed as inventions of lesser men.

In 1964 Kim Jung-il graduated from Kim il-sung University with a triple first in Political Economy and Media Studies.

It would have been very easy for the illustrious leader to then give his son token government job, however Jung-Il would never take something without first earning it. So it was that he joined the party, doing many great works for four years before his minor promotion to Deputy Director of Propaganda and Agitation. Here he would ensure the total happiness of the Korean people via informing them of the torture and murder that occurred to dissidents.

In Just four years Kim Jung-Il was promoted to Party secretary of organisation and propaganda and one year after that he was officially designated as his fathers (the great leader) successor. Proving that anyone within the party who is willing to work hard could become the leader of this Democratic Republic.