Mancini urges Sheikh Mansour to buy Scapegoat

The Undeniable Stench of Failure Overwhelms Mr. Mancini

Italy's foremost Kevin Keegan impersonator, Roberto Mancini, has urged the Manchester City owner to splash out in the wake of City's bottle smashing. In a desperate attempt to protect his merry gang of mercenary, attention seekers, Mancini directed his scouts to look for someone who was capable of taking the full brunt of the Etihad post Christmas cluster fuck. Having gone through the full contingent of managerial excuses, including "Scarf malfunction", "Unseasonal weather" and FPWK favourite "Below average Internet speeds", Mancini even considered using arch-rival and noted philanthropist, Alex Ferguson's classic "We couldn't see each other because of the grey strip" hum-dinger. 

Barely Visible: Ryan Giggs can be just
made out on the left of the picture

Without any suitable patsies to be found anywhere in the UK, or indeed the rest of the planet, Sheikh Mansour has been forced to shell out a record £1.3 billion to sign God from the struggling Irish non-league side, Repentant Catholics FC. Spokesperson for RCFC, Father Diarmid Feargal Padraigh O'Mulligan-and-O'Hare, said "To be sure, we wanted to keep his omnipotence until the end of the season, but what the Lord giveth with one hand, a bored mega-rich-oil-baron-with-no-interest-in-the-sport-he-has-bought-into taketh away". 

Preparations are now in full flow at Man City's Carrington training ground, where our insider, Owen Hargreaves, has personally seen Mancini manically repeating the phrases "God did that" and "It's God will" in a mirror, trying to find the perfect accompanying South European shrug of  the shoulders. Man City travel to Arsenal on Sunday, coincidentally God's favourite day, knowing that a loss will undoubtably mean that Mancini will use his new signing in the the post-match interview, although this may cast a shadow over the return of the unscrupulous, privateer Carlos Tevez. The Argentinian's personal Shylock, Kia Jaroobachian, will probably find some way of rinsing more money for his scoffer of a client, before he secures a summer move to the home of the rest of the mutants, the X-Men. "Carlos enjoyed being the fall guy for City, he took the role very seriously and gave 113.245%, now that God is here, I don't see a future for Carlos at City. Prof. Xavier has expressed an interest and I think Carlos will see plenty of first team action there".

Clairvoyant: This City fan could see the future

Man City fan, John Millington, famously became famous, for famously crying when Swansea famously turned over City. "Honestly, when it went in, I just knew that was the end of the dream really, I know we have worked hard by just spending and spending, but it was clear from the performance that we just haven't spent enough. I was so upset because I know there is so much more we could spend. Hopefully after spending all that money on God, we can secure some more petulant, knob-scoffing, underachievers during the summer. If we spend all our time spending, we could well be in with a chance of completely ruining football next season".

As this season reaches fever pitch, there may yet be more twists and turns to come. And even if Man City don't manage to win the title this year, they are clear winners in terms of the quality of scoffers they have available to them, with Mario Balotelli sure to raise the bar for all Premiership footballers next season by aiding the North Korean Nuclear Missile project over the summer. Watch out John Terry, Balotelli is after your crown.

Jeremy Axeminster

Murdoch Sticks Poisoned Tuppence Into Massive New Shitstorm

Bespectacled scrotum, Rupert Murdoch, has had the astonishing temerity to call for an independent inquiry into the latest government Cash-For-Access scandal without even noticing the absolutely massive irony, it emerged yesterday.

Murdoch:  Dare you say his name three times?

Mr Murdoch posted his thoughts on the breaking scandal on social networking site, Twitter:

"Of course there must be a full independent inquiry on both sides. In great detail, and with consequences. Trust must be established." 

Seemingly oblivious to the startling hypocrisy of this statement, the hellbound, antipodean necromancer then continued:  "Trust built little by little, and then lost, is almost impossible to recover." 
As journalists around the world pissed themselves laughing and screamed "What the actual fuck?" at the top of their voices, Prime Minister and noted scoffer, David Cameron was in hiding, fearing a relentless revenge campaign from Murdoch as payback for the Leveson inquiry.
A Downing Street spokesman released a statement from Mr Cameron today, in which the PM blubberingly begs Mr Murdoch for his life and implores the dough-faced predator's minions not to harm his pretty face:

"Not the face, Wupert!  Please God!  Not the face!"  He blubbered.

"Young Man, there's a place you can go....."

Further details of Murdoch's masterplan for revenge remain sketchy, but leading political commentators believe this could be the tip of a very large, arse-related iceberg.  FPWK Revenge correspondent, John-Wayne Bobbitt, reckons Cameron could be in for a slow, painful lesson in not fucking around with Rupert Murdoch:

"Usually Rupert will make you watch them work on your missus.  That lasts four to five hours.  Most are numb after that much screaming.  Then there is a short fag break before he brings out the gimp.  It starts at dawn with a force-fed breakfast of dog shit and coal and it can take an agonising twelve hours before the photos of your chafed, reddened and violated posterior make it onto the internet.  But make it there they will."

Public opinion on whether Mr Cameron deserves his inescapable fate was fairly one-sided;  just 4% of those interviewed thought that his arse should be spared, with an alarming 64% vowing to view the images of the Prime Minister's bloodied, distended rectum as soon as they appear online. 

Labour leader, Ed Miliband, whose father of course, was a massive, raving Marxist, called for Murdoch to remain focused:  "This is a despicable liberty by the tories, made worse because Mr Murdoch feels so aggrieved by it, which must mean that it is a very naughty thing indeed.  I stand shoulder to shoulder with Mr Murdoch in demanding the Prime Minister's immediate resignation and submission to anal torture."

Blood Oranges:  A timeless metaphor.

Cameron's whereabouts remain unknown as we go to press here, but a leaked Downing Street memo suggests he has a table booked at The Ivy this evening for dinner with a leading London oncologist to discuss post-rape corrective surgery.  Who will be donating what to who remains unclear. 

This is not the first time a Prime Minister has been of the run for his anal virginity;  It is believed that Margaret Thatcher narrowly escaped a reaming at the hands of Arthur Scargill, and as recently as 2001, Tony Blair found himself with a choice of going to war in Iraq or having a group of US marines run him through in the back of a Bradley tank. 
Although Cameron's ringpiece remains intact tonight, it is surely only a matter of time before it looks like the flag of Japan, as Murdoch closes in on his man, and from there, his arse.

Johnny Plantpot
FPWK

Arseholes Jubilant After 2012 Budget

The Chancellor, George Osborne is to take radical measures to ensure that all rich people from himself to Mario Balotelli will be able to buy more Swarovski crystals, it emerged today.

Osborne with his infernal box of misery.

The perfectly fair and sensible move came as Osborne explained to The Commons in his dual role as Chancellor of The Exchequer and also Satan's Chief Whip, that because rich people are fundamentally more intelligent, cunning and deceiptful than poor people, they should be allowed to decide for themselves how much tax to pay. 

The flagship 5% cut to income tax for top earners effectively means that Premiership footballers earning £150,000 per week will now pay 5% less tax after they have worked for a week.  In real terms, John Terry will be approximately £190,000 per year better off, which is more than enough for a new Bentley or a big, ostentatious watch.

Terry & Lampard watch the Budget speech unfold.

Osborne made the announcement in the 2012 Budget speech today amid cries of "Scoffer!" and "Plantpot!" from everyone in the FPWK office.

John Terry's rise from abject poverty is to be funded the only fair way Osborne could think of:  by taxing the elderly, poor and unfortunate.  In his speech, the Chancellor stated:  "For too long now I have had to pretend to have some sort of vaguely altruistic agenda.  I think it's time I was given credit for that malevolent deception by you, the people.  These here are my true colours:  Bluer than Mrs Thatcher's knickers and twice as unpleasant.  Get in!"

Labour leader, Ed Miliband, whose father was of course, a massive raving Marxist, dutifully attempted to pick holes in Osborne's budget, clearly still under the untenable impression that The Chancellor gave even a semblance of a shit what anyone else thought.

As if to hammer home his point that poor people can fuck off, Osborne also raised duty on cigarettes by almost a full fag - 37p.  Amongst the first to respond to the Budget was FPWK Smoking correspondent, Graham Meehan, who talked to me through a cloud of purple smoke from his cold, damp, ill-furnished bedsit where he smokes almost constantly from the moment he wakes until the moment he goes to bed:

Alaskan Thunder Fuck:  You'll watch next year's Budget, but you won't give a fuck.

"I go through around 6 spliffs a day.  That's ten fags which cost around £3.50.  The weed I put in those biffs costs £20.  I'm never, ever going to stop doing it because I really, really like it and it doesn't do anyone else any harm whatsoever.  If these rich people are really so clever, why don't they just legalise, then tax cannabis?"


As partisan and arsehole-appeasing as this Budget appears to be, there are prominent Tories who believe the Chancellor did not go far enough:  MP for Bourton-On-The-Water, Hugo Flaccidly-Smallcock claims that the 5% tax cut for ridiculously wealthy people should have gone further.  Among his suggestions were a 10% basic tax rate for children with paper rounds, parents to declare and pay tax on weekly pocket money, steep rises in the cost of playing working-class pub games such as pool and darts, a 45% reduction in free speech and a new tax targeting people with learning difficulties.  Mr Flaccidly-Smallcock claims that full implementation of his plan would have meant the Chancellor could have given the rich a 10% cut as well as a pokey bum wank apiece too.

Johnny Plantpot
FPWK

10 reasons why Brian Blessed should be the next England manager

Here are 10 wonderful reasons why Brian Blessed should be the next England Manager.


1. It would appear that most people in England would like the next England Manager to be English. Brian Blessed is probably the most English person in the world, with the obvious exception of Sherlock Holmes. Unfortunately, due to reality issues, Sherlock Holmes is unavailable, however the FA haven't ruled him out.


2. Brian likes to climb mountains, literally! Taking the pissy shower of twats we call a national side to any sort of glory is indeed, a massive mountain. The man nearly made it to the top of Mount Everest without oxygen, this is right up his street.


3. He's motivationalist! Just think of the fervour he could stir up? If anyone is cable of making thinly veiled car thief Wayne Rooney, take enough pride in the England shirt that he is wearing to sing the national anthem, it's Brian.


4. Moral fibre. The man is without reproach when it comes to.. well, everything. I find it unlikely he would be caught out for shagging some paggered blonde TV presenter, paying family pets to avoid taxation and most importantly racism, although he has been known to call a spade a spade.

Johnson during the one game he wasn't utter pony.

5. Sky TV could offer "Pay Per View" options on the half time team talks. "JOHNSON........ What in the name of Damocles' Sword are you doing, IMBECILE!". In reality, we know that Brian would never actually pick Glen Johnson, what with him being shit and everything. Blessed isn't a fool after all.


6. Ian Holloway isn't ready yet. He needs to take Blackpool back to the Premier League and the FA Cup final. End of.


7. He could easily bark orders and tactics from the safety of technical area. His skills in voice projection, from years of theatre work, would stand him in good stead when dishing orders out when things go awry.


8. Harry Redknapp, while being the obvious and popular choice amongst big red plastic vuvuzela wielding Sun readers, doesn't actually give a shit about the England job. You know it, I know it, and can you imagine how painful it would become listening to his son, Jamie "I-always-wanted-be-a-model-anyway!" Redknapp, banging on about how wonderful his Dad is in the pre-match build up? WOWLD CLARSS....

The new slim line Lampard

9. Despite his complete lack of experience in Football Management, how could Brian do any worse of a job than any of the Scoffers that have followed Bobby Robson? He could not be worse than Steve McClaren, could he? No, is the simple answer, if we are going to have another plant pot without a clue, lets just give the big man a go. At least it would be entertaining.


10. If Harry Redknapp becomes the England manager, the perennial porker Frank Lampard will keep getting in the team. There are better midfielders playing in the parks on a Sunday morning. Fat Frank is well past his best days and should have the common decency to tell his Uncle that he is too busy looking through the reduced section at Waitrose to play for England.


Jeremy Axeminster

Coalition Government Linked to Death, Misery and Stuff

Leading health experts have released shocking evidence, that has conclusively shown that many British citizens have died since the Coalition Government took over control of the country last year. The report entitled 'The ConDems are Killing Us' shows clearly and concisely, that many people have died since David Cameron slimed his way through the back door in to No.10 Downing Street. Dr. Sebastien Baldspot, spokesperson for Medical Based Statistics, the group behind the report gave this statement: 


"Since Nick Clegg sold us all down the river last year, the health and well being of the nation has suffered badly. People all over the country have continued to die at an alarming rate of knots. Drinking is on the rise, despite the price of a pint of beer in most pubs approaching £20 and most people just cant afford that, never mind the taxi fare home. Many people have taken to drinking varnish at home and playing conkers with their highly lacquered shit balls until they slowly die of being "sick as fuck"". 

Clegg shows what happens when you fall
asleep at No.10

There are so many cases of this around the country it has been given an official medical name and everything. At first it was called 'Cameron-is-a-Plantpot Syndrome', then the Prime Minister managed to deflect the pressure on to Nick Clegg, as per usual, when it was re-branded "Nick Clegg: The New Judas Disorder'. However, when further research showed that it was both their faults, it was given its current moniker, "ConDems Undeniably Nasty Twats Syndrome" or CUNTS.


In defence of the Government, Nick Clegg tried to save some face by facing the families of people that have died because of CUNTS. Clegg was immediately bowled a googly when faced by an elderly man from Accrington. Willie Eckerslike, 83, put a valid point to Mr Clegg when he stated that his wife died the day that the Condems were formed. "My dear old Cissy was as fit as a fiddle, she had been training hard with Owen Hargreaves, then you lot took over and POW! She dropped down dead whilst making shuttle runs with elastic bands round her knees! This is all your fault, you treacherous, power hungry, Perrier quaffing git!" to which Mr Clegg simply raised his hand and said "My Bad". 


Not wanting to leave the plebs feeling like they had been completely shafted and had the entire nation closed down by draconian spending cuts, Clegg offered to make sure that CUNTS becomes number one on his list of "Things to do, less important than winning at Backgammon". Assured by his vacuous promises, people went back to their lives, despite two more people dying of CUNTS before leaving the Clitheroe Civic Centre where the talks were held.


Meanwhile, the latest batch of strikes to grind the UK to halt, were carried out yesterday by some quite hard done by civil servants. The picket line outside Wycombe High School, Bucks was more like a scene from Schindler's List as impoverished teachers held placards aloft with statements of disgust at how the cut backs have affected their working practices. "Subsidised coffee vending machines are essential to the teaching process" and "Even Stalin gave teachers more than 8 weeks off a year!" were among the many slogans daubed on placards made from the parcel shelves ripped from cars used as barricades outside the school. 

Frostrop-Harelip standing solemnly in front of some doors

Marion Frostrop-Harelip, the unofficial leader of the group, bleated out this statement on a megaphone "Moan moan moan, grumble grumble, moan, grumble grumble, moan moan" to a rapturous round of applause from all of the other seven teachers on the picket line. The rest of the group were allegedly on the high street trying to "garner support for the cause" by standing in queues of solidarity and buying items of Christmas unison. 


David Cameron was unavailable for comment as he was busy planning the withdrawal of troops from Iraq and Afghanistan, sacking most of them, selling their equipment on ebay and then using the seven remaining soldiers, both of the working RAF planes and the wreck of the HMS Hood to invade Iran.


Jeremy Axeminster

Blackpool Turns To Dignitas

Blackpool Tower:  Mecca for cretins.

There is an enormous plantpot magnet at the top of Blackpool Tower, and it's been there for ages, it emerged yesterday.

As hundreds of locals simultaneously slapped their foreheads and screamed "Well that fucking explains it, then!" at the top of their voices, Blackpool resident, Gary Rooney, 19, had this to say:  "Eeeeeyyaaarrrrrr knob 'ed!  Pincha smoke off ya?"

It is believed that the magnet was first installed by hilariously unhilarious racialist comedian, Joey Blower in 1994.  Blower installed the device in order to attract audiences with the required sequence of chromosome deficiencies needed to appreciate the tired, loathsome, self-serving, pile of fetid worm spunk that is, The Joey Blower Show.

Blower after reaching a Plantpot landmark.

Since that fateful day, Blackpool has attracted over 39,000 new plantpots, putting them in with a growing share of the population (27%), shortly behind are crackheads (19%), traffic cones (13%) and members of metal bands (11%).  Inevitably, not all of these pilgrimages have happy endings.  Five percent of immigrant plantpots are killed or maimed within 48 hours of arrival, usually by another plantpot protecting his territory or by eating from one of the town's fast food establishments.  
A further two percent are incarcerated and returned to the secure institution from whence they escaped, or 'hotel' as some of the brochures like to say.

The sharp rise in the plantpot population has led Swiss firm, Dignitas, to consider opening a clinic in the town.  
Assisted suicide for immigrant plantpots is still a somewhat divisive issue amongst Blackpool residents, but some are failing to see an alternative.  "If it's a straight choice between getting covered in saliva every time I leave the house or putting everyone in a pair of detailed jeans to sleep, then I know which side my bread is buttered!"  Says Randolph Saxonburg, head of Plantpot Management for Blackpool tourist board.  "They come over here, with their STIs and gingivitis, not a pot to piss in, spew up all over our streets, drinking the over-priced witch piss that the myriad of Mitchell & Butler pubs here have the temerity to call 'lager', then decide that it's just so wonderful here that they have to stay.  Well, not on my fucking watch!"

Mr Saxonburg's comments came as Blackpool Council released details of the scheme in which Dignitas are to be made 'Key Investment Partners' in the town:  "What we are proposing," said councillor Frank Emptihead, "is a solution that works for local residents.  The lifeless cadavers from the new Dignitas clinic will be taken to The Sandcastle, which will be filled with formaldehyde, where they can be kept until needed as winter fuel for our impoverished residents.  It's a lot easier than us creating jobs.  Obviously, there will be a council tax rise required to fund the scheme.  Ha ha ha ha!"

The Tache:  Four hundred grand's worth of dangerous misery.

Opponents of the Dignitas scheme include Tache Nightclub proprietor, Ron Blunden, 97, who claims the plans are ill considered:  "I run a club which is full of 500 wannabe necrophiliacs every single Thursday.  You put a huge pile of preserved dead bodies within walking distance and you're going to have a problem.  All I'm saying is; I can't guarantee that some of the corpses wouldn't end up as part of my regular clientele.  And if you can smell formaldehyde in there through the overwhelming stench of piss, sweat, blood and yeast infections, then you're a better man than I am."

As news filtered through that The Tache is finally going to be demolished anyway (Yeah, right - 'council offices' Bet that's what Hitler said Dachau was gonna be.), the future looks bright for the Dignitas scheme, with the former Tache site ear-marked as a possible location for the clinic.  "It's close to the station, it's got a big fucking fire exit that we could turn into a conveyor belt.  Why not?"  Asked Councillor Emptihead, not even rhetorically.

Public opinion in Blackpool was hard to collate.  The entire population of Blackpool basically lives a life of tortured, jobless, alcoholism, occasionally interspersed with a council tax rise that means they can only afford to drink Brasso for the last two weeks of every month.  Buckfast and Special Brew here are viewed with suspicion, as though they were frankincense or myrrh.  All the town's gold is now stored in Cash Converter's vault.  There are more closed down shops than there are open ones, and the town does not have a supermarket.  Street traders, hawking rubber rats on fishing wire, litter the pedestrian areas like black marketeers in a besieged Sarajevo.  All around buildings crumble and decay, so that the High Street resembles Shane McGowan's mouth.
The overbearing stench of fecal matter fills the lungs as I wander on to the Promenade.  An Iranian illegal migrant tries to sell me a partially cooked bat in a green barmcake.  I decline.  Politely.  A gypsy approaches with a sprig of heather in tin-foil.  I assume it is a low-cost alternative to heroin and make my excuses.  A bus pulls up.  There is no destination on the front.  For there is nowhere to go in this town.  There is nothing to see.  It's starting to rain, I drift inside an amusement arcade.  Lights.  Noises.  I stand in front of a fruit machine and stare at the lights.  This is all they have here.  Will you take the gamble?  Will you be the lucky one?  You can win big!  Please insert coin. 

Johnny Plantpot

FPWK  

Blackburn Express Interest In Del Monte

Kean:  High Rate DLA.

Premiership strugglers, Blackburn Rovers are set to table a record breaking bid to lure Delmontean international striker, Themanfrom Del Monte, to Ewood Park.

Topman:  Del Monte's pension.

Manager, Steve Kean, who is paid £20,000 per week on top of his disability benefits released the following statement:

"Anuradha Desai has told me to buy a striker.  Riquelme said 'no', Ronaldinho said 'no', Raul said 'no'.  Undeterred, I continued my scouting, and discovered that Themanfrom was available, and likely to say 'yes'."

A bid of at least £25m is likely to be needed to tempt Delmontean outfit, Umbongo, to part with their talisman, whose signature of course, comes with his image rights for every Top Man, River Island and Next in the world.


Del Monte would be the first Delmontean international to play in the Premiership and many experts feel like there may be a reason for that.  Blackpool manager, Ian Holloway, was quick to urge caution:  "I'll admit it - I looked at bringing Del Monte in.  Then I discovered that he was on £100,000 a week!  Oh, and he can't play football.  All the Delmontean grasslands are filled with landmines."

While Blackburn do still have one or two players who can play football, most fans believe that Steve Kean, under the controlling strings of Venky's ownership are seeking to off-load the remaining competent players to rival clubs and replace them with mercenary fuckwits, who are nearly of pensionable age.  Del Monte, who made his debut in the 80's, would take the Rovers squad's average age to 43.4, and into second place behind Chelsea.  Blackburn fan, Frank Wrigley, 60, reckons it's a lost cause for his side:  "Jack Walker is spinning in his grave!  You could power half of Feniscowles if you wired him up.  God rest his soul.  Sack the board."

This is how Venkys see all this panning out.

Most high street bookmakers have already stopped taking bets on Blackburn being relegated, after a suspicious betting pattern in the Padiham area alerted managers.  "It's a bit of a no-brainer."  Said William Hill spokeswoman, Robyn Swines, "When you start getting four-figure wagers on something, from the most impoverished and deprived place on the planet, it's pretty certain there's some jiggery-pokery somewhere.  It's a bit like if Somalia bid to host the Olympics."  

One can only speculate as to the nature of this 'dead-cert';  Perhaps the Venkys are a syndicate from Burnley?  Perhaps David Dunn owes money to a lard manufacturer?  Perhaps the whole thing is just one huge, macabre experiment being played out by a bunch of people who have about as much business being in control of a football club as they do being in control of the Finnish national butt-plug gargling contest?  Who knows, but with two losses out of two, Rovers are rock bottom and show no signs of revival. 

Here's hoping even Themanfrom Del Monte doesn't say no.


Johnny Plantpot

FPWK