Secret files released by the National Archives on Rudolf Hess include a letter from a
Broadway holds a gala night for Control, to celebrate local actors copping a break and the fact that someone from a production company drove into Lenton, looked through a square made from their thumbs and index fingers, and said ‘Hmmm…yes…this looks exactly like the sort of depressing shithole where a miserable Indie twat with a Nazi fixation would want to top himself’.
The long-predicted global recession begins to bite. House repossessions in
The residents of Wollaton pull back their lace curtains at to be greeted with the sight of something out of The Sweeney, discovering a bleddy big burning Mercedes containing a stabbing victim. Turns out that said victim had previous for using a golf course in
Nottingham City Transport announces the axing of their regular Night Bus service, weeing in the face of everyone who works in this so-called 24-hour city who quite liked getting home from their shift without having their wallets raped by a cabbie. Sigh.
The head chocolate-maker at
Those two pissy-knickered house-shitbags on Channel 4 find a new way to raise Nottingham to fourth in the latest edition of The Worst Places To Live If You’re The Kind Of Middle-Class House Price-Obsessed Wankstain Who Watches Shitty Programmes Like This On Channel Four Because You’re Scared To Go Out, by annexing Rushcliffe. Next year they’ll grant independence to The Park and Hockley in an attempt to get us to the top. That bald cock and his hateful pinch-faced bint of an assistant claim that Mansfield is a better place to live by seven whole places, which is all you need to know, really.
Notts County finally sack the former (and soon to be) building site worker Steve Thompson after sinking to the bottom of Division Four. They install Ian McParland as the new boss and go on a decent run.
The Variety, the club in Radford, which for over 40 years was the only place in Nottingham where you could play bingo with strippers from Matlock, finally closes down for good. Another part of Nottingham’s soul disappears forever, and if you didn’t go, you’ll never know.
A Cinderhill factory worker gets shamed, due to spending £500 on having a two-foot tattoo of Dumbledore on his back, only for said imaginary wizard who doesn’t exist to be outed by JK Rowling. ‘It’s been terrible’, he says to The Sun. ‘I’ve always liked Dumbledore, but not in that way’. Jesus in a jumpsuit, it's come to summat when a man can use a national newspaper to point out that he doesn't want to have bum-sex with a wizard in a kid's book.
Wet Wet Wet (ask yer mam) play a one-off gig at the Hard Rock Café. Two weeks later, the Hard Rock Café goes out of business.
Forest’s projected move to a big new toilet in Clifton is nixed by the City Council, who want a location nearer the city centre. I know just the place; right next to Trent Bridge. Just behind the Southbank Bar.
Truants at Arnold Hill School bash their faces against the nearest available wall when it turns out that a stripper puts in a guest appearance at a drama class for some lad’s birthday. The school thought about calling in the police, but were worried that they’d only pull the dinner ladies over the counter, grind their crotches into their faces to Hot Stuff by Donna Summer, and make the headmistress suck whipped cream off their truncheons.
Twiggy and Jo win an award for Best European Breakfast Show. Christ on a crisp packet, who were they up against? A monkey banging on a saucepan in Oslo, and someone drilling holes into farm animals in Bucharest?
A local youth is up in court for reacting to his mate getting stabbed to death in a city centre venue by robbing the till of £324 (and yes, you’ll note he even took some pound coins). Obviously, he needed all those notes to staunch the wounds, a clearly-marked first aid kit evidently not being available.
Whoever is employed by the Post to sit on YouTube all day typing ‘Nottingham’, ‘Guns’ and ‘Oh My God, They’re All Going To Murder Us In Our Beds’ finally hits paydirt when they uncover a video of some lads called the Millz Taliban waving guns about and smoking weed. Note to local gang members: don’t name yourself after a religious group that outlaws everything you like doing.
The latest local crackdown on beggars in town turns up a man whose was identified as dead and cremated by his own mam in Manchester a month previously. Hopefully, the coppers have also got that bastard who pretends to be a Big Issue seller and tries to flog LeftLion for a quid, claiming that we’ve been bought out by them.
A 26 year-old scamp from Bulwell is hit with an ASBO that bans him from every pub in Greater Nottingham bar five, for such japes as waving an air pistol in one pub and puncturing someone’s lung with a fork in another. Every pub in Notts minus five equals a shitload of pubs, making it the biggest bar-out in history and worthy of a place in the Guinness Book of Records.