There is a decently long list of animals we’d like to punch.
Top of the list is bears for the way they’re always so nonchalant with their captors. Next wood be woodpeckers because even in today’s civilised age, they still destroy trees.
Coming in a respectable third is monkeys. We’d punch them because we know that behind those beady eyes they’re thinking about ways they can kill a man and take his woman.
That’s really lame, monkeys. Why don’t you just lust for your own kind, you hairy pervs! Maybe that’s why Jason Biggs recently fist-fought one while on vacation.
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Oh Joy of Joys, today is the last day of absentee-Stu. Sorry, we meant Gabrielle. He’ll be back on Monday lampooning all things celebrity as his masculine hands brush over his keyboard with a man-like determination. We mean she’ll be back on Monday lampooning all things celebrity as her masculine hands brush over her keyboard with a man-like determination.
Well we’ve had a wonderful time since he’s been gone – but he and his new girl-body have sent us one last postcard to carry us through the weekend:
Dear everybody,
Well, I arrived on my parents doorstep this afternoon with my new pink luggage set and they seem to have changed the locks.
Yours in editing,
Gabrielle Heritage
Oh that’s grand news Stu! Gabrielle! Now get us some betting odds why don’t you!
Awake, for the dawn is almost upon you. And when it’s sweet light falls upon your face, it shall be in the form of a postcard from Stu Heritage, a man so many of us miss dearly. Though he’s gone only for a short while, complete lack of contact is simply more that most of us can bare.
We don’t have to though, because he’s sent another note. This one’s from a gender reassignment center gently tucked away in the rolling hills of unknown Spain. He says:
Dear Readers,
I miss you all so.
Well at the H-Spray I only get two week off every three years, so I decided to use this time to find the body God clearly intended, but forgot to give me on the day he was issuing out fleshy assignments.
I’ve always craved purses, not wallets, and dresses, not trousers. The right underwear I’ve actually been wearing for some time now, so there’ll be no big changes on that front.
Also, from now on if you could all address me as Gabrielle that’d be totally teriff.
Yours in editing,
Gabrielle Heritage
Of course we can Stu Gab, of course we can!
We had a very close call today. Matthew Laidlow nearly died after crying into his oatmeal so long he actually started to inhale the stuff. It was a slow process really, he knew what the end result would be, and yet he refused to lift his face out of the bowl.
It’s because he misses Stu so bad. We all do. Luckily Davies scooped out Laidlow’s lungs with a really long-handeled spoon, and all is well until the next time somebody gives that guy a breakfast.
Little does he know he doesn’t have to be in such despair any longer – nobody does! That’s because Stu has sent us word! In a postcard! He’s thinking of us! He writes:
Dear readers and Matthew Laidlow,
I’m having a wonderful time here in south France, where I met a hairy pig while speed-dating last night and the two of us went bow hunting. I really think this could be it!
Yours in editing,
Stu
Good for you Stu, no more lonely nights! Also no more worrying about never getting fanged by a girlfriend. Now isn’t that nice? Congratulations!
