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A young(ish) Mancunian named Noel, who suffered a bang on the head during last night’s tornado, claims that he awoke to find himself in a new, colourful world full of wonders beyond imagining.


“Ah don’t reckon we’re in Manchester no more, our kid,” he told his younger brother Liam, who’d been transported with him. “Ah reckon we’re in that London.”


As Noel stared in wonder at the colourful Christmas lights, trains that travel underground and people with jobs, the locals told him to “follow the new ULEZ zone” until he encountered the Great and Powerful Khan, also known as the Stupid Git of the West(minster), who would help them get home (provided they paid the appropriate charges for any roads they used, and more if they were driving a diesel). Liam said he hoped Khan would also give him a brain, though Noel warned him that would alienate most of his fanbase.


In the end, Noel clicked his ruby Doc Martens together while repeating “Sorted, top, mad for it” and soon found himself back in drab, grey Manchester. He realised the whole thing had been a dream, and that the scarecrow he thought he’d met was actually a memory of Bez from the Happy Mondays.





With the tattered remains of festive tinsel, Bishops throughout the land will now be stored back in the loft - alongside forgotten gym equipment, roofing felt and your furtive porn stash.. Explained one devout shopper: 'We only get our faith down for the Xmas period. After that we stuff our vicar back in a box, with his all-shiny baubles and prayers. Although inevitably, you will find a stray altar boy behind the sofa later in March.’


The tradition of using Christianity at Christmas dates back to the 1800s, when Prince Albert had a Trappist monk erected in Trafalgar Square for the amusement of the pigeons.  Nowadays households usually have a priest standing beside their TV in a bucket of water or hang illuminated clergy from their rooftops. Many households are torn between getting a real or fake clergyman, yet all agree you cannot beat the smell of a freshly cut priest


Sadly, a number of bishops suffer damage in the loft, with the Archbishop of Canterbury once hollowed out by a family of rats. Some even suffer the indignity of having their sermons mulched or thrown in a skip. Months later the only memory of 'Jesus Christ' being your yell every time you step on the pointy remains of a bishop stuck to your carpet.



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