The Fire fighters Games! Game set and match at number one court. The 3 Miserable pleaders. Reggie McGough Digs deep and Flo feels wind of change!

By Jove Missus! Justice at last. Finally the vicious brute Steve Cursed, who was caught red handed trying to shove our respected ex Mayor, Lady Dorian Jones through a letterbox in Belle Vale has been brought to justice.

It had become known as the Cinderella trial, due to the only clue to his identity being the baseball cap with his name in it, left behind as he ran from the Royal Balls-up back to the fat pumpkin pulled by rats - Wally Bradlow.

Well, if the cap fits.

The Fairly Odd Mother aka Jackastorey, Wee Wally Bradlow himself and another man known only as Fat Colin with the burst buttons, appeared in court as shady character witnesses for Mr Cursed. In fact it was probably this that finally damned him.

In a bizarre twist to the case, Lady Noreen even appeared as a witness for the defence and tried to back up Cursed’s claim that he was in fact trying to pull her out of the letterbox, rather than shove her through, when he was suddenly jumped on from behind by three Lap dancers or Lion tamers, he couldn't’ be sure.

It has now emerged that the happy picture that recently appeared in The Oldham Chronic, of Wally Bradlow and Lady Doyenne's husband, Sir Tricky Jones - smiling in mutual admiration and supposedly marking his 130 years as a Chandler, was a smoke screen, hiding the fact that Sir Clever was in reality being held hostage in

order to force Lady Windowlene to take the stand as a character witness.

How Bradlow can you stoop, I ask myself?

But was Cursed alone in organising the plot to discredit the opposition by leaving a twice ex Mayor of Grotty Cash on the hall carpet of the local voter? ( it's usually a small turnout) Claiming they used her as a draft excluder. That is the question now being asked.

It seems that Mr Cursed used the same pink Andrex paper for the phoney leaflet - that was tucked into Her Ladyships vest - as they use for all their Election leaflets. Most recently it was used in the campaign to stop people parking their cars on an inebriated Richard Clamp in the Church Ward.

So did Cursed break into the Glib Dum HQ on Meltdown Road, and run the pink leaflets off himself? It has been suggested that he may have had a teacher with him to help with the spelling, a fat bloke to hold the door shut and an additional fireman to make the tea.

Although police forensics were unable to find a sample of Councillor Cursed’s hair in the Baseball cap or on his head for that matter, his arrival in court wearing half a pair of sunglasses and the other half appearing as exhibit 'A' began to cast doubt on his innocence even before he started to lie through his teeth.

When the prosecution pointed out that even his lying teeth were false, the deputy Mayor, Councillor Jackastorey, tried to climb out of the courtroom window. Fortunately, Wally Bradlow, pulled him back to safety but then got into a fight with Fat Colin, as they both tried to climb out instead.

The witnesses for the defence

So following the guilty verdict, will they now have a whip round between them to pay the £500 fine and the £700 costs or will they get the Custard Company to pay claiming it was a Court room drama event. Will Cursed be sacked and kicked out of the party, and if that happens, is there a risk that he could implicate others? Was he the lone postman or was there another dum man on the grassy knoll?

To her credit, Lady Davina, as ever, maintained a dignified silence until she left the courtroom and then set about them with her handbag, calling them a bunch of f***ing clowns.

What a disgrace that she should have been dragged into this after her years of service to the party and Grotty cash. Lying to and conning an elderly lady.

Anyway, I look forward to the Oldham Echo headlines,

.“Leading Lib Dem Councillor donates £1200 to fight against crime in Liverpool”

But enough of that low life and lets get back to high custard.

Great news that Professor Rednose of Brookyoaks, could be up for a new years honour. Yes if all goes well, we will have to call him Sir Phyllis next year. Which can be very unpleasant so I hear.

I do hope he gets that hair cut before he goes to the palace. We don’t want the Queen to get nits. She has enough already what with Charles and Harry. I left William out because he is going bald like his father whereas Harry has a good strong head of hair- well baldness is hereditary.

Rednose of course is still tasked with organising the closing Karaoke Ceremony for Capital Of Custard. I am not sure how the night will go but it could be perfect for Wally and Jackastorey, as it is being assisted by a company called Walk the Plank.

As usual, the guest list is a surprise, which means that they are still checking the availability of the winner or 103rd runner up from the Grotty Cash Eggs factor talent-less competition. There will be the usual rocket in a milk bottle firework and, we hope, the long awaited 08 poem from Reggie McGough. (pictured below)

I was particularly impressed by Reggie’s most recent poem that celebrated our much-loved local Solicitor and first citizen of Liverpool, Sir Rex Hesperus, and his frustration over the disruption caused by The Big Dig. Here is Reggie's poem.

The Big Dig

By Reggie McGough

Who said the streets was paved with gold?
I think it’s time that we were told

And if that’s why we’ve all put up
With half the city being dug up?

They drilled into our very soul
And everywhere you look – a hole

And when they finish, crowds of men
Come and dig it up again

To lay new cable or new pipes
that adds to all the drivers’ gripes

In Whitechapel, a man called Rex
fell down one hole and ripped his kecks

Rex took his case to court and found
outside his office, no legal ground

I’m sorry Rex, the Judge did say
They’ve taken all your grounds away

He left the court beyond console
And fell into another hole

Unwilling to accept defeat
In the case of Rex ex parte Street.

So he’ll go to court another day
If only he can pave the way.

*****

Now of course the other news at the moment, is that they are advertising for a compere for the 08 closing semolina night. And what have they done? Excluded the obvious choice through ageism, that's what! No, no not me, I’m keeping well away from the Pier Head from now on. Nobody told me they had built a bloody canal! Head first I went. Fortunately my fall was broken by a load of Netto shopping trolleys and a mattress.

Anyway I will be too busy planning my campaign for the Wavertree by-election.

But I do think that restricting the compere search to somebody between the ages of 30 and 60 is an outrage. One of our greatest treasures has been excluded, in fact apart from his lecture night on The Council Comedy Greats, Custard year has made little use of one of my personal heroes, our beloved and perhaps greatest star. I am talking of course about Mr Ken Dodd. The Squire of Pebble Dash, as he is known.

It is a real place you know!

Do you know, people often tell me that I am the spitting image of him? Usually people with a lisp who spit all over me while they are talking. That must be where the expression comes from. I suppose once you wipe the spit off, I do have a passing resemblance. (When he was younger of course)

Left: Doddy Right: Me

The real problem is that Doddy never does less than nine hours and the Custard Company was skint before Klimt. This is why all we will end up with is the Singalonginyermacs at the Pier Head. There's only enough money to keep the leccy meter going for half an hour, so Doddy is sadly out of the question.

Well if you decide to go, you had best wrap up warm. There is an icy wind blowing through the chambers of power in Grotty Cash right now, with growing discontent in the ranks.

I saw the leader in waiting, Flo Clucles, the other day and I warned her to watch out.

I said, Winter draws on Flo!

Yes, she said, and I’m still freezing.

And that gag was my audition to compere Karaoke Night.

What’s Les Dennis doing these days? I hope it’s not panto with the impostor.

Tatty Bye Everybody Tatty Bye!

Be nice to each other.

******

Marking over 10,000 discerning reader hits or possibly 3 readers with repetitive strain injury from hitting the wrong key or they are tapping out an SOS.