Dearne Valley Weekender

Hello! Been a while, hasn't it. 2009 now. I love to read. Love it. Every weekend, when I visit my girlfriend's house, I like to sit on her toilet and read the Dearne Valley Weekender. A marvellous rag, it really is. One week the headline ran 'Man snaps babies back'. I didn't like that story. However, the very next week they ran;

The dog in question had a birthday! Wow! Silly cow, Claire Sherratt took the little bugger to a £200 a night hotel! What did she expect the dog to do? 'Very good choice this Claire, I knew you had something planned'. Maybe they got really drunk courtesy of the mini bar, ended up on the bed together, she touched his little lipstick...Why did that stupid woman waste £200 on a hotel for her dog. Depressing.

Surely there are better stories to run as your main piece. 50,371 homes received the paper that week, for free, some people paid 10p for it. Waste of time.

Same issue, a few pages in. 'Neil knows his onions'. Does he? Good for Neil. What a piss poor headline. Neil is a twat. That's what I would have run with. His onions don't even look that big. Even though they've put the onions at the front of the picture, they still don't look impressive. Some people have testicles bigger than Neil's onions. Looking at Neil's face, I think he's a little bemused as to why he and his onions are causing such a stir. I love a massive marrow. Huge tomatoes, go on then. Giant sunflowers, I'll have a look. Onions you can buy from tesco, I'm alright thanks.

I took this picture on my new phone. The quality is crap, as the camera is. I don't care for a camera on a phone. However, this is possibly the best bit of investigative journalism I have ever read.  A pan fire. One of the worst kinds of fires to have in the home. Children die. Dad's die. Cat's die. Homes and lives ruined. 'The incident resulted in a small amount of fire damage to the pan'. Oh, that's alright then. I've damaged pans before. My sister once used the scourer on my Dad's new pans. Scratched them to buggery. She got a right telling off. Did the Dearne Valley Weekender call? Did they shitters like.

I've nearly finished. You join me at the 'Pub & Club Scene' section. I've probably finished my poop by now. I'm just staying here for the read now. The club scene up North used to be a thing of beauty. Old folk, of a Friday night, would go to the local working men's club and see Tina Turner getting her fanny out, or whatever. These days, it's shit. Gadies and Lentleman, please welcome on stage...Boyzaloud! Like Boyzone meets Girlsaloud. They look Irish. Green fields in the background give that away.

Two out of Three. What does that mean? I guess the middle one is the worst. Operatic gothic space rock, I imagine. I used to work as a barman in a working men's club. Wheatley WMC, to be exact. It was full of old people buying pints of best, calling everyone 'love' and 'duck'. They don't want to see Two out of Three on a Friday. Nobody does.

I'm not going to spend long on the write up for these guys. He's not wearing a shirt and she is minging. The thing that caught my eye was 'Introducing from London...' I didn't catch their name. I stopped there. Do they expect us backward Northerners to read it and cream with excitement. 'Oooooh they've sent a band from that their London'. Give a toss. I hope they crash on the way up. Put a shirt on, it's winter.

Watched Freaky Eaters whilst I ate my tea. I had three turkey drummers, chips and vegetables. Washed it down with a quarter of a family apple pie and custard. I should be fat, but I'm really not. Anyways, I enjoy Freaky Eaters. It's people who've got really bad diets and for some reason only eat cheese or crisps or whatever. They have to try different foods and usually vomit at the thought of it. I love those ones. I hate the ones where they try everything straight away and say how much they love it and how they've missed out. They should, at least, have a little sick. I'd stop filming at that point and tell them they'd wasted our time.

Right, that's your lot. I doubt you read this far, I doubt I care. 

Much love

x