Whitechapel Family Drown in Tragic Bid To Reach Syria

The Whitechapel Whelk

Cockneys_2-c-Museum-of-London  Desperate!  Whitechapel residents pictured fleeing from street vendors selling jellied eels last night

The bodies of a family of five from Whitechapel were last night found washed up on a sandbank at Wapping Dock after a desperate bid for a new life in Syria went tragically wrong, The Whelk can reveal.

The mother and father, who can’t be named, had been planning to escape from Whitechapel with their three children for weeks, a family friend told us.

“They were absolutely desperate to get away from the East End” he said “They paid a people smuggler over two thousand pounds to help them  reach the relative safety of Syria. They were planning to start a new life with the kids in Damascus. They were just doing what any caring parent would do

“Plenty of people in Whitechapel share their dream. Only last week, I was thinking about booking a passage on…

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PC Ted Stupor in: Armed and Incapable.


The Whitechapel Whelk


Evening all.

Policing this great city can be a daunting and even life-threatening business, particularly in these fraught days when the threat of terrorism lurks around every corner.

It’s small wonder then, that our commissioner, Sir Bernard Hogan-Howe, has made the tough decision to select crack members of The Met to form an armed rapid response unit to react with stealth and speed to any terrorist strike. I count myself fortunate to be among this elite band.

Last week, we underwent a grueling training session on the SAS assault course in The Brecon Beacons, where the weather was as bleak and unwelcoming as the grim task ahead of us.

Fortunately, I had secreted a bottle of Old Bushmills Irish whiskey in my rucksack and managed to have a really good skinful while the other lads were swinging on ropes and crawling through muddy puddles.

I was later made to return…

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Advertisers to Electrify Little Xs in Corner of Online Ads



“Virgin Broadband? I’d like to register a complaint”



In what is being seen as a controversial move, companies who advertise their goods or services using pop-up ads on web pages, are planning to deliver a high voltage charge to people who attempt to close the box in order to continue looking at what they actually logged on for.

A spokesman for The Online Advertising Board said last night: “We don’t put these infuriating pop-ups onto websites for our own amusement you know. If people are ignorant enough to click on the little X in the corner before reading them, then we feel entirely justified in sending a couple of thousand volts through the fuckers. If they die they die. At the end of the day that’s commerce I’m afraid”

This move comes just a year after Hotmail introduced the controversial, boxing glove on a spring device that smashes subscribers in the face who don’t switch to their latest beta version for a trial period.

Danny SoZ

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Whitechapel Gears Up For 2016 Paralytics

More liver-busting fun and frolics from our brothers and sisters-in-satire at The Whelk. Follow them, they piss all over us in the humour stakes…ish

The Whitechapel Whelk

paralytics One of the highly-fancied Irish competitors pictured during a gruelling training session last night

The East London district of Whitechapel last night confirmed that preparations for the 2016 Paralytics Championships are complete and that they are now fully prepared to welcome the thousands of complete drunks and stumblebums who will make up the competitors in the most prestigious heavy drinking challenge on earth.

The championships begin in The Blind Beggar this forthcoming Saturday at 19.00 and will finish at The Lord Rodneys Head in the early hours, when the last man standing will be awarded with the prestigious Golden Sick Bowl of Montreaux.

The itinery is as follows:

19.00: The 100 metres Dash To The Bar. In this exacting event the competitors will use raw speed and agility to race from the saloon bar door to the bar itself before ordering a pint of lager and a whiskey chaser


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Mary’s Magnificent Minefield of Malapropisms



Say it ain’t so Mary love!!



As a follow up to the previous embarrassing outburst by our graphics editor’s mum, we thought we’d bring you this little beauty.

Following a short bout of ill health -from which, she has now thankfully fully recovered – our heroine was asked – by myself as luck would have it – if she was feeling better.

She gave a careworn wistful sigh and replied: “I’m a little better thank you dear but not quite 100 percent. I can’t wait to be back on the game to be honest with you”

Hopefully, she meant “in the game” as I fear that a career as a common prostitute may prove to be less than lucrative at her age. And I say that in a deeply caring way.



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LOMM’s Wonderful World of 60s Movie Stars With Wooden Leg Issues

THIS WEEK: Ann Margret

annemargret meme

NEXT WEEK: Marlon Brando asks Julie Christie to give him a hand polishing his wood

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Mary’s Magnificent Minefield of Malapropisms

I don’t know if we’ve ever told you this, but out graphics magician, The Artful Dodger, has a mum. However, that’s not all my friends. He also has a mum called Mary. And if that wasn’t staggering enough, his mum called Mary is predisposed to uttering hilarious malapropisms.

So, from time to time, we intend to illustrate the fact by publishing them here, accompanied by some little memes, appropriately put together by The Dodger himself and entirely at his own risk.

Here’s the first and it concerns the apocalyptic tsunami that struck the islands in and around The Indian Ocean on Boxing Day, 2004. On hearing the news, Mary rushed into the room in a state of high excitement and announced: “I’ve just heard on the news that a massive salami has killed lots of people in India!”

Here’s another one that’s about to kill lots of people on Brighton beach…

Massive Salarmi

Bless her.




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Oprah Stands By “Troubled” Fergie Following Whitechapel Beheading Spree

*May 26 - 00:05*

“Jihadi Ginger” Sarah Ferguson pictured showing her age following her arrest last night

American chat show queen, Oprah Winfrey, last night vowed to stand by her friend, The Duchess of York, Sarah Ferguson, after the troubled ex-royal was tasered and arrested in Whitechapel following a jihadi-inspired rampage during which she beheaded 7 people with a butcher’s knife in and around the street market in Whitechapel Road.

Oprah told The Whelk last night: “I’ve known for some time that Sarah had been radicalised and had embraced the twisted doctrine of Daesh, but I was hoping she’d get fed up with it and go back to writing books for kids about helicopters. It came as quite a shock to learn she’d been on a murderous rampage in Whitechapel, but I don’t think this is the time for recriminations. I think the cops should give her a stern telling-off, after which she could go into a special home for a few weeks; like the one she went to when she was on the sauce”

This latest incident involving a minor royal mirrors the 2011 incident when Prince Edward’s ex- wife, Sophie Countess of Wessex, opened fire on Muslim shoppers with an AK47 in the Shoreditch branch of Boots in a protest at the extradition to The Hague of Serbian warlord Ratko Mladic.

Danny SoZ




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Bernie Eccleston Offers Kidnappers Extra 2 Million to Hold On To Mother-In-Law

Bernie Ecclestone

“I wouldn’t say my mother-in-law was ugly, but…”

Formula 1 supremo, Bernie Eccleston, has offered the kidnappers who snatched his mother-in-law yesterday an extra two million pounds on top of the 28 million they have demanded for her release.
Eccleston told reporters last night:  “I realise that it’s a lot of money, but it’s a price well worth paying to finally get shot of the old boot.”
Before going back inside his sumptuous Monte Carlo home, Ecclestone joked “My mother-in-law is so fat that when she was at school she sat next to everybody”
Bernie Ecclestone is editor-in-chief of Dwarfism and Idiotic Hair Monthly

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Beef & Onion

meat pie
Beef and Onion. A One Act Play by Lady Garfield Hoadley of the Lake
The Scene: A run down office. Nicotine stained walls, decorated with long
lines of dried up condensation. A threadbare carpet, that once had a pattern.
Beneath the only window, a Royal Oak desk, sits waiting to be polished.
And from the flaking ceiling, hangs a yellow light bulb, ready to go pop!.
Mr Treadle, sits behind his desk. The two strands of hair, covering his 
polished bald head, appear to be trying to escape, down the unwashed
neck, that is supporting, the round fat face, now turning red with rage…
“Look, I make, meat pies…My father, made meat pies…His father, 
made meat pies…And his fathers father made meat pies, and you my lad,
are going to make meat pies”
Mr Treadle, is addressing his son, Treadle junior. The poor boy, stands,
like a man condemned, in front of the unpolished desk, trying to avoid the
sputum, that is being projected from his fathers ranting orifice.
“But father, I don’t…”
“Nay, lad, Treadles have been making pies for hundred years an more,
and you, my boy, will take up mantle, when I retire…”
“But I have other ideas father…More creative ambitions”
“More creative thar knows! An what, is more creative, than Treadles,
beef an onion meat pie feast? That crust, was created, with mothers bare 
hands, when she were dying of Anthrax, during war”
“Grandmother died in her sleep, after consuming two bottles of gin, father”
“That’s as maybe, my lad, but without mothers recipe, treadles would not
be here today. And, you would not have attended best school in north of
England, Queen were going to send her Charlie to Black Coal Grammar,
but press got wind, and that were that…”
“I am adamant, I shall not make meat pies…”
“Oh!…Mr high an mighty, and what shall thee do? Be president of some
mamby pamby office in big city, clean up in financial markets, or will thee
take on might of conglomerate?…All ninny white wash dreams lad”
“Actually, father, with the money Grandmother left me, I intend to open
a small factory, making ladies underwear…”
At this point, Treadle senior, falls out of his office chair, landing on the worn out carpet, with a loud thud. He then gets to his feet, leaning over the unpolished desk.
“Bludy hell! Did I hear thee right?…Did you say making ladies unmentionables…”
“Yes father, and I intend to design a whole new range…”
“Hold on, only pansies and poofters make them sort of things…Are thee telling me,
that you have become light footed? Limp wristed, a florist?!”
“None of those father, and what is more, I intend to leave the confines of Crusty
Hall, and take an apartment in town, where I shall be free of your overbearing,
bigoted, self opinionated boring voice…”
“I see…So now you have a bit of brass, mother and I are not good enough for thee.
Not, posh enough, haven’t got huge plums in gob, and what next, I suppose thee 
will be wearing long scarf round neck, and carrying leather case in hand like some
southern poofter from city of London…Well let me tell thee lad…”
The office door opens, and in walks Mrs Treadle. A rotund woman with a beetroot
red face, large hairdo, and an exaggerated limp…
“What’s to do?…I can here you shoutin odds from factory floor our Bernard”
“It’s him Aida, that lad there, he wants to be a Florist…”
“Is that right lad? And when did thee decide to become limp?”
“I am not becoming a Florist mother, I am opening a lingerie factory in Bolton”
“Not while father and me are on planet my boy! Treadles is meat pies and nowt
else…Eeee, you kids today, always wanting to be something different”
“That’s what I told him, Aida, meat pies is meat pies an always will be”
“He’s been reading Country Life again, Bernard…get doctor on phone”
“I don’t need a doctor, or read Country Life, I am going it alone, so there”.
The Treadle parents, stand open mouthed. What next?


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