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Glenda was away, this week's update written by Gary Ushaw
Parallel universe number 23-23 calling. It is imperative
to the continued existence of the quantum multiverse that you
read about this week's events on Coronation Street in our own
wibbly-wobbly version of reality. Do not adjust your set.
THE HAIR BEAR BUNCH
The scariest hair bear of them all (that's Liz MacDonald; try
and keep up, new readers) seems to have finally, and quite literally,
bitten off more than she can chew. After her vampire hair-do sunk
its tendrils into the juicy bits of a banged-up Mr Big, he has
become unfeasibly besotted with the carniverously coiffeured one.
Despite some early success at controlling this zombified blood-donor,
Scary Hair Bear has lost her mental link with him and she is now
having to fend off his less than subtle amorous advances. Unfortunately
for her, he has also figured out that if she gets too close her
blood-crazed bonce will suck him dry and cast the lifeless husk
of his body aside like a used Christmas tree, so he's conducting
his love affair from within the two-foot-thick walls of a high
security prison. Kinky.
Scary Hair Bear, who is more used to chasing after men while
drooling at the mouth, is in unknown territory actually having
a man chasing her, and has consulted the rest of the Hair Bear
clan for advice. Big Stupid Hair Bear was no use; "I'll tell
you this, and I'll tell you no more," he said, "you
threw me out of the Hair Bear Bunch, and I'm not coming back just
because you need someone punching. Do you think I'm stupid?".
Naughty Hair Bear was no help; evidently he's starting to enjoy
the "special attention" being lavished upon him by Mr
Big in prison. Completely Crap Hair Bear was no use either, but
then he never is, and he has enough to worry about trying to keep
his neurotic girlfriend Ann Capone happy. Poor old Liz can't even
turn to her latest Mr Peevely, lovely fifties throwback Sean Skinner,
as Mr Big's heavies have already given him the once-over in a
scene strangely reminiscent of all those bank holiday seaside
clashes between slicked-back Teddy Boys and Parka-clad Mods. Mods
1 Teddy Boys 0, in case you're wondering.
Scary Hair Bear's situation was not helped by the slightly
confused jibes of uber-criminal SmartAlec Gilroy-- he displayed
a surprisingly inexpert knowledge of classic horror film lore
by asking whether she plugs her hair into the electricity supply
of an evening. Not so smart now, SmartAlec! That's Frankenstein
you're thinking of; obviously a barnet of the vampiric persuasion
must be buried in the soil of the Old Country on a daily basis.
Ann Capone also joined in the mutton-taunting by mocking Scary
Hair Bear's dress-sense; she asked her shrivelled boyfriend Completely
Crap Hair Bear whether he'd be happy to see her dressed like his
mum at her age. Poor old wrinkly Andy was caught between a rock
and a hard place: who is he more scared of, his Mafia boss girlfriend
or his vampiric progenitor? He was too crap to decide and, if
he's not careful, he's going to grow up to be Ken Barlow. A fate
worse than death-by-having-all-your-blood-sucked-out-by-your-own-mother's-hair?
Probably.
Spurred on by all this mockery, SHB went to Drear, of all people,
to borrow some clothes that don't make her look like a tart. Drear
even offered to lend her the sacred Drear-glasses, but the thought
of looking at the world through a pair of lenses that make Ken
Barlow seem attractive was too much even for our voracious man-eater.
Clad in Drear's best "Oy, keep your hands off" outfit,
SHB went to see Mr Big in chokie who, careful to avoid those blood-sucking
tendrils, ensured that she stayed behind a Hannibal Lecter style
glass screen. Inevitably man-hungry SHB quickly fell for Mr Big's
charms (i.e. he's a bloke; that seems to be about the extent of
her choosiness) and it seems as though she has found her new Mr
Peevely.
NUN ON THE RUN
Renegade nun, Samantha Failsworth, continued her quest to sample
life in all its debauched glory this week. However, after a few
months of revelling in pub culture, fast motorbikes, lecherous
bookies, and wondering whether she dare try wearing ear-rings
as ridiculous as Queen Vera's, all this business of seeing how
the dregs of society live seems to have gone to her once-wimpoled
head. On looking over the house of idiot savant Curly Gump, she
immediately assumed that he had chopped his inflatable wife into
manageable chunks and buried her under the floorboards. Come on,
Sister Samantha, just because crap soap operas like Eastenders
are full of such nonsense doesn't mean it happens in a typical
provincial town like Weatherfield, you know.
(And now, a big hand for your favourite and mine, the old nuns/drugs
joke:)
SPEAKING OF HABITS
Household cleaning products junkie Joyce "Deadly"
Smedley floated around the ceiling oblivious as her life fell
to pieces around her. Having spent all her money on Ajax (to snort),
Jif Micro-Liquid (to inject) and Brillo-pads (don't ask) she was
thrown out of her house for non-payment of rent by somebody called
Bernard (!). She has now moved in with her loveable daughter and
son-in-law. "I drink beer, me" said Judy. "I like
shagging, me" said Gary. Joyce is now feeding her habit by
stealing money from the Rovers till and the Sun-Liners petty cash
box (Old slapper, Drear, has had a grin on her face all week,
as she's never been one to complain about someone slipping their
hand into her box).
IN OTHER NEWS...
...Boy pin-up Ken Barlow faced evil daytime TV presenter Denise
in a secret court-room battle over custody of their love-child...
Neurotic girl outsider Ann Capone is very worried about her arrangements
for Christmas. She has her wrinkled boyfriend running around in
circles trying to get everything just right, and has threatened
to make him eat the Christmas tree in a pancake if he gets anything
wrong... Comrade Sugden has invited levitating oracle Maud Grimes
for Christmas dinner, presumably to consult her about the future
of the workers revolution in 1997... none of the Pratt family
appeared this week. It was a good week... Snobbish Des Barnes
was deeply embarrassed at the unexpected appearance of his eccentric
father-in-law Digger Barnes, so-called due to his fixation with
organic gardening, a hobby shared with Des' down-to-earth neighbours
the Wiltons. In Digger's case, however, he seems to grow all of
his organic vegetables on the sides of his face... Where's Norris
Cole this week? Popular opinion was that he was implicated in
some rather naughty vote-rigging in the House of Commons, related
to pairing off. Apparently Norris, cheeky chappie that he is,
thought pairing off involved choosing a dance partner, and tangoed
around the House with Edwina Currie during that all-important
fish vote... Plasticene girl Kelly Moffat set off for her new
stop-motion life in Edinburgh, and got a free sample of what it's
like in Scotland thanks to a drunken Glaswegian at Piccadilly
bus station. No regional stereotyping at work there, then...
And now, as they used to say in DC Thompson comics, a Merry
Christmas to all our readers. I'm making no promises about when
the updates for the next couple of weeks will appear, if at all,
because over here in Parallel 23-23 we have a weird tradition
at this time of year of drinking until it hurts. And then doing
it all again. And again ("I like beer, me" said Gary).
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