People and their derivatives

Name: Captain "Grrrrrr!" McGabe
Age: 31
Occupation: Ideas person; transient president of the Society for the celebration of the changing architectural styles of Totteridge (and Whetstone); confidence trickster; family man
Hobbies: flat beer; fitting full-size dining crockery into his absurdly large mouth; senior squash.
WLTM: People of a similar ilk, preferably female and with a sense of humour; orphaned giraffes; Ice-T
Little known fact: Is not a rapist.

Missing Person #01

Missing: Bart Eloise-Claude Muff't
Last seen: Bratislava, June 1833
Presumed whereabouts: Confirmed dead since June 1833
Distinguishing features: Small tattoo of copulating krill on left butt-cheek; Answers to the name of Donald; Has chronic fear of krill

Have you, or anyone you know (or anyone you dont' know) seen Muff't?
His family, sadly now deceased, are worried about his safety and would appreciate any information from the public that would lead to his safe return. AIf you, or anyone you know (or anyone you dont' know) have seen Muff't, please convey a message to his family at 33 Sklep, Bratislava, immediately, as long as it reaches them before the end of June 1833.
A reward (no longer valid) has been issued for his safe return, although this may be in currency now defunct. Please contact your local Bureau de Change and national time-travelling organisation for more information.
Please note: Muff't is considered dead, and should you find him please approach with caution, as by this stage he might be a zombie or, more likely, simply a corpse that happens to be in your line of sight. Also, Muff't has a history of ill-advised compulsive fingering of poisonous moustaches.
(Pantgasm disclaimer: Spottings of Muff't should be considered highly unlikely in the 21st century, and certainly not in Barnsley, where he has never been, not in life nor in death - the mark of a good man. Person pictured is Napoleon III who bears little or no resemblance to Bart Muff't; the only tenable link being perhaps the moustache, that may or may not be poisonous. History simply has failed to record that particular area of concern. We apologise on behalf of history but take no responsibility for its actions. At least not for the time being).

Obituaries: 1

Dave Sock, née Sock (9), a 50% cotton - 50% polyester foot warmer first staggered blinking into the light at the Ningbo Go-Go Knitting factory as the result of an argument between a burlap sack and a collection of militant toupees.

Adopted by a camp ball of worsted yarn, Dave's nascent perversion and prediliction for the absurd saw him grow into a fine and dynamic entrepreneur who capitalised on the demand for herring in the smaller bottom-wiping communities of the Lower Indus.

Later, his treatise on bed-wetting among middle-aged shire horses earned him a free haircut, and, inexplicably, a flatulence coupon to the value of £3.09.

It was not until his philanthropic undertakings took root though, that Dave reached the peak of his achievements. His "brown icky thing that smells of France" is internationally acknowledged as his seminal work, although he has since gone on record as saying "That's not semen, it's toothpaste. Honest."

The acclaim and wealth resulting from "Brown icky thing" allowed Dave to pursue his lifelong ambition of moving to the country. Sadly the country was Belgium, and he saw out his twighlight years under a railway bridge, in a damp cardboard box with a semi-perished novelty prophylactic and a selection of inquisitive woodlice called Deborah.

He died suddenly on March 3rd 1983, as the result of a chronic bout of flatulence during an attempt to saw a disused tank mine in half. He is survived by his illegitimate offspring: a pair of Y-fronts called Claire and a bikini twin-set, Bernard, of no fixed abode.

People and thereof (?)

Name: Clint Waffa-Waffa Partridge
DOB: Sometime just before the Great Fire of London, but definitely after the Norman Conquest
Occupation: Ape handler, freelance certified beard breeder; seasonal town crier
Hobbies: Some
Describes himself as: Extremely attractive, well-pruned like a shapely pear
Favourite film: The Never Ending Story
Likes: Beards, ethnic pubic hair, wooden pliers (splinter-free)
Dislikes: Alabaster
Would like to meet: Someone who is selling a couple of crates of disused rifle grease
Catchphrase: What?

People past and present

Name: Polymah “Pappa” Pompidou;
What: 69, 166cm, bad breath, shaped like an old egg, smoker, drinker, professional w/ car
Where: Lodged between two walls, Leeds Castle;
WLTM: Single bricklayer, male or female, for long distance correspondence on the topic of apophenia; must have own fridge; genitals preferred but not essential;
Loves: Cooking for three; forcing dogs to wear human wigs; pretending to buy a latte on-line; jail based dramas, preferably American (and ideally a bit saucy!);
Hates: Smokers, nazis, gay people and women. Black people. And obviously the Flemish; involuntary bed wetting; red tarpaulin; walks by the fucking sea.

People and stuff

Name: Erasmus ‘Klump’ Klipperhundth
Occupation: Idiot; Amateur wrestler; Ambassador to Barnsley
Background: Studied metric birds of prey at Humberland Polytechnic, graduating with honours and a discrete limp; helped compile a non-definitive list of words that do not signify Easter for the University of Boulangerie; failed repeatedly to kill himself during the summer of ’89 due to a spoon malfunction; Hates horses

People 29

Gerald Smythe-Smythe-Smythe (pictured) was the result of a drunken liaison between a yard of sharp sand and 3 feet of gravel in the back of a Ford Capri in the late 1960s. After an office Christmas party, since you asked.

Abandoned by his mother shortly after birth, Gerald spent his youth selling his sweet tushy on street corners and briskly fellating elderly men in exchange for their medication. By 7 and a half, Gerald had his own private colostemy bag collection, and a devoted following of lice.

On his thirteenth birthday Gerald was robbed, buggered, strapped to a barrel and left for dead on a traffic island in East Cheam. His unlikely rescuers, 3 sardines in sarongs and a pickled cucumber, were to prove both his saviours and his lunch.

Wracked by guilt and pant-shattering wind having consumed those who had helped him, Gerald made a vow to erect a church on that very spot to St. Fishy and The Tangy One. A vow he was soon to forget, however, due to drug induced amnesia and a double frontal labotomy administered by surgeons after we was hit, full on, by a bus leaving the traffic island.

Thrust back into the community, short to the tune of the front half of his brain, Gerald took to the scientific community as a means of getting laid cheaply and easily. Accepted readily by Engineering Faculties across the land, Gerald lived a facile life of nerdy bespectacled discourse and embarrassing, apologetic sex in the dark.

He also did some research, but it was all rubbish.

Gerald was eventually kidnapped and turned into the south-facing wall of a shed. Serves him right. Tosser.

People Schmeeple

Name: Anton “Frere” Hutchings-Colossomi
Occupation: Full-time weaver of wicker baskets; Transcendental clay artist; Secretary-general for the Society for the Rights of Nomads and Vagrants; Insurance underwriter
Where: Lives in a converted bus shelter in and around Macclesfield
What: Not a scientist per se, Hutchings-Colossomi has nevertheless been instrumental in several recent, rather astonishing and possibly implausible discoveries. They include:
*being the first retarded person to find the quickest route between Salford and Worksop (a feat that has re-invigorated the once declining trade in exotic spices and dead mice);
*turning ice into water in a lukewarm place (both assisted and unassisted to avoid ambiguity);
*constructing the definitive pie-chart (pictured);
*managing to successfully weld the theory of quantum mechanics to the carburettor of an ageing Fiat Panda;
*the now widely accepted method for genetically manipulating the common (and most recently the rare) lisp (pictured).
Anton is currently working on a self-assembly AirFix kit of the USS Viagara and has plans to expand his renowned wicker basket road show to include certain postcodes in the North East and a brief stop-over in Guernsey
Favourite book: “He’s cool bruv – the hip version of the bible” by Frantz Sudovikamaan
Likes: A hairy back
Dislikes: Diffraction; Soya; Food laced with arsenic; Being called a spazzer (pictured)
Favourite word: Spam (pictured)
In brief: Severely mentally handicapped by his own volition. Approach with due diligence