The wheels on the bus go round and round...

...all day long!

Greetings to all my weird and wonderful friends!

Here's what I propose for the obligatory Scottish trip for New Year's, namely a trip to Aberdeen but if folk get lost in Glasgow, we'll send out a search party and find you in a crowd of millions, the only one eating a nice salad.
So, I propose we travel there, if cars and lifts are unavailable, by the magic that is magicbus. I have looked at the costs and they are very much ideal for the poor student, even one that parties every night like some I know.
Going out on 29th December 2008 for at the moment £15 for a 7 hour direct trip of fun to Aberdeen, returning for a fiver on 9th January 2009 for a 7 hour trip back to Manchester Piccadilly (coach station) very hungover. People are welcome to stay over at mine and we can all get to the coach station a lot more easily on the day of travel. That equates to 24 smackers for a trip to the Arctic Circle.

Who's in?
Which dates would suit other people better?

I shall book soon and I think the price is a steal, despite the long traveling time.
Prez of the SP*

*All rights removed

Spoons an' a Fiddle

Hello and once again it’s back to the press,

Not that anyone apart from the Senior Editor-in-Chief, the Prez Scotty “small but mighty” “the Dog” Jones, and our Foreign Executive Producer Ms. Ferrari read this anyway.

The Senior Editor-in-Chief has sent a press release confirming positive action to be taken on a new year’s invasion of a place known only as Aberdeen. The reason being there has been untold revelry and shenanigans heard of during this passing of jahren and a reconnaissance team of about twelve people should be sent to investigate as there are fears that the season passing may be insipid, which in his mind would be unconceivable.

Also in the news; it has become, just now, common knowledge, that our Foreign Executive Producer likes girls with long ginger hair. Do not ask why, we don’t know, but equally along with all news produced here we don’t care, we do however reserve the right to hunt down and contact this good looking red head to ask exactly how she pulls it off. The reason being Mr. P-to-the-J “Duncan” “light up the sky” Clarke (yes, we got there eventually), doesn’t seem a decent enough example of someone with ginger hair, and I’m sure all those folk at the Ginger Separatist Movement (“Better Red Than Dead”) will agree that calling people dickh**d and wishing death upon people is a sign of his inner struggle with his abjuration that he is, in fact, ginger.

News just in: Harsh Reality, our undercover agent, is in the hullsian gulf, doing some clandestine recon missions for us on the wrong side of the Pennines. In the 15 year plan it is hoped that eventually they can be converted and the white rose shunned and unappreciated globally.

Yours truly,

In hope of some replies,

The Scandal Press Senior Editor-in-Chief

p.s. I want you, I shall seek and find you, I shall take you to bed and have my way with you, I will make you ache, shake, sweat and groan, I will make you beg for mercy, beg for me to stop, I will exhaust you to the point you will be relieved when I’m finished with you and you will be weak for days. All my love, THE FLU

Aftermath and Update

Dear One, All, and Everyone,

As most of you (probably just one or two) may be aware, the Scandal Press is trying a revamp, as such the team has been out and about socialising, causing chaos and breaking hearts.

The Prez and I shall start about a month ago, the outbreak of fleas had just happened and the source was undeniably the Senior Editor-in-Chief, propagated by, of course, His Royal Highness, Prez of the Scandal Press. Soon to suffer was everyone, most of all the delectable Kathryn who tried to update the fleas to AIDS status, which luckily didn't work. The Spoon-Who-Went-To-Newark pointed tastelessly out that we should spread Kathryn's AIDS around the world, much to our amusement. We were highly amused, as you can tell. Look this was our amused face.

<<<<<:-)))))))

After this prestigious occasion, the Scandal Press Team held its first trial social event encompassing an afternoon of ten-pin bowling. The team; comprised of HRH Prez of Scandal Press, our Foreign Reporter, Harsh Reality, and the Scandal Press Senior Editor-in-Chief.

The afternoon was enjoyed by all, we believe (we don't know, we just believe it).

The Spoon-Who-Went-To-Newark, commonly known as Chris, has been reportedly found patrolling around New York City painting pigeons purple. We at the Scandal Press do not condone this action but are aware that it is fun and possibly hilarious. His next move is reported to be towards Vas Legas, where we believe he shall be wed to someone known only as Sarah, this joyous occasion has been dubbed the non-celebrity wedding of the year and all shall be in attendance, apart from The Spoons sister, the lovely Kathryn, who has gone into a strop because she is not the brides maid. The position being filled by one drama queen, who possibly owns a caravan in Flookburgh.

Our Foreign Executive Reporter has been found guilty and sent down (to the shops) without trial for feigning revision for a psycho's exam in Cambridge, across the pond. The person in question, last seen and photographed with a golden halo above her head, denied the allegations of not studying and blasted out at the examination procedure at Harvard.

"Like, I mean...oh come on," she bawled,"I mean come on, are you being serious, loser? Jerk, you know what.....whatever (Trevor)"

What we have all either suspected with great glee or feared throughout the ages has, our lovely, learnéd, and genuinely fangastric Scandal Press Fans, come true. Our under-caravan-cover correspondent, Harsh Reality, made an alarming discovery that Mr. PAB is a long time lover of and subscriber to Cosmopolitan Magazine Publications or Orgy and Fashion Monthly, as its more commonly known. A Mr. Jeeves Butler of Troutbeck Drive (located off the M6, next to a park bench and disused tent) tried to palm the blame off onto a Mr. PJ Duncan Clarke.

"Stop taking photos in my Tin Tent Box," ranted the accused, "it ain't mine, i swear guv'nor."

However, our Harsh Reality assures you that this is swimply the twipical and biswarre behav'yer of "a damn gyppo on holiday, self-catered."

Most recently, of course, was the early celebration of Mr. James "my hair doesn't light up the earth, honest" Clarke's 12th birthday. the event was held in the ultimately prestigious Smithills Coaching House, where Mr. Clarke works as a pot wash and general bitch to all. The event saw the Scandal Press deploy their latest weapon, the beer-proof, smash-proof camera. With Mr. Prez taking most, if not all the photos, the event was much enjoyed and the photos prove how drunk we might have been, or not in the case of a few. Mr. Clarke's smaller short arse of a brother showed us all up by downing his pint faster than any of us seemingly not-seasoned drinkers.

That's All Folks,

I love you all, especially you,

The Scandal Press Editor-in-Chief*

*including also Harsh Reality and Mr. Prez S. "small but mighty" Jones