There It Is, you fat banjo-twanging CUNT

May Contain Notts' previously dormant interest has been piqued by goings-on in the charming village of Cotgrave, where a local mouth-breather has been given three years for racially harassing a local takeaway, making them deliver pizzas to his house, and generally gooin' abaaht reckoning he's summat. (There was a picture of him on the Post website, but it's gone. But then again, all these twats look the same - imagine a gibbon that's been licking lead paint off a stick all day, and then had a full-body shave). Christ on a crisp packet, it's one thing to run a shop and get robbed by the local Deliverance extra. It's another thing entirely to actually have to take the shit to the fucker's house. Deepest sympathies to the Shalimar takeaway (you can't miss it - it's in between Five Star Key-Cutters and Kid Creole Krazy Kuts).

The problems started after Mahboob Ulhaq, owner of Shalimar, Cotgrave, gave a police statement about one of Raynor's friends.

Raynor stormed into the takeaway and said: "You are in my village, do as I say."

Yeah, I've seen that sign; "WELCOME TO COTGRAVE. A BIG FAT CUNT WITH BITS OF PEPPERONI IN HIS TEETH OWNS IT. DO WHAT HE SAYS AT ALL TIMES". I bet he even waved a fist dead close to his face like Bully Beef while he was saying it, an'all.

Thankfully, there's a silver lining amongst all this racist mouth-breathery. We've all had our doubts about the standards of hygiene in certain pizza places. After reading this story, I have the comforting image in my head of a kitchen in Cotgrave, with Jeffrey Daniel and Howard Hewett lowering their leather disco trousers and masturbating furiously onto a deep-crust, while Jody Watley empties her nostrils Rugby League-style onto a garlic bread, and all of them growling "Gonna make THIS a night to remember, BITCH".

Please wash out all crims before recycling

Lots of talk about vermin with shotguns in town at the moment, so here's a light-hearted story about petty crime. It appears that Bulwell is piloting a new eco-friendly scheme; recycling bell-ends. Obviously, there'll be the usual moaning (another bin to look after, getting the collection dates mixed up, the stench of two-week-old crackhead attracting flies in summer, etc), but it's worth a try. And well done to the Post for exposing a new and sinister development in criminal methodology;

In mitigation, William Bennett said Baguley had been affected by his past.

He said his mother was an alcoholic and he had become involved in a gang who used him to smash windows during burglaries.

I dunno about you, but this is a bit scary. I don't know how I would react if I heard a noise at 3am, pulled back the curtains, and discovered a gang of youths using one of their own as a battering ram, or loading him into a massive catapult made of discarded shopping trolleys.

Village Idiots

There's been some unbelievable acts of poncery committed in Nottingham over the past decade, but this takes the biscuit, if not the whole packet: Sneinton - the part of town accurately described by someone in the MCN forum as 'sounding like it's come out of someone's nose, and looks like it too' - now wants to be known as 'Sneinton Village'. Yes, there are some nice bits in Sneinton, but let's consider the facts;

This is a village.
This is Sneinton.
This is a village.
This is Sneinton.
This is a village.
This is Sneinton.
Are we all clear on that? Good.

Apparently, this incredible act of ignorance in the face of truth has come from the local cricket club, for reasons that I can't understand, even after reading the Post article 27 times. "As far as we know there is no legal criteria [for becoming a village] - if we can do some of the things we have got planned, we could re-brand ourselves Sneinton Village." Said the chairperson of said cricket club, as she applied another layer of Brasso to a massive, stinking turd in the road. However, it looks like the idea of a 'village green' is a long way off;

A game was due to be held in October. Teams from a pub, local restaurant and the police were set to take part - but it was called off after health and safety problems with the proposed site, an area of land owned by Castle College.

Trans: 'Someone left a knackered fridge at silly mid-off, and a dead prostitute's needle-pocked arm was found sticking out of the crease'

Of course, there's a precedent to this; the lamentable attempt to rebrand Hockley as 'Hockley Village' (a term which is only used by juff-headed bell-ends who work for estate agents and drive around town in those stupidly-painted Mini Coopers). So why stop there? Let's have Viccy Flats Village an'all. Let's see some signposts for The Magical Fairy Kingdom of Radford, while we're at it. Fuck it, let's start to call Nottingham 'Monaco', or 'St Tropez', and have done with it.