Fox (n): carnivore of genus vulpes; crafty person; scavenger; (vb) to confuse; -ed (adj): to be drunk.

Saturday, 17 December 2011

The Foxtivity.

AND it came to pass in those days that there went out a decree from Gideon the Chancellor of the Exchequer that all the world should be taxed, as he'd run out of everyone else's money and wouldn't be inheriting daddy's for a while.

And all went to be taxed, everyone to his own city. And Hugh Grant went up from Chelsea, out of Paparazzi City where he strangely kept living, unto the city of Privacy, to be taxed with SamCam Bletherington Posh-Girl Smythe, his espoused wife, being great with child.

And they travelled on an ass named Superinjunction, and tried to get a room at The Savoy but he wasn't wearing a tie, and The Dorchester but the Queen was staying and she hated Four Weddings, and then the Travelodge at Clackett Lane Services but Hugh didn't like the ambience of the toilets. Hugh lastly tried The Temple of St Paul's but the pastor closed the doors upon him, saying: "We are full, there are many bankers in here already and we're still cleaning up since the last time we let the hoi polloi in."

As SamCam Bletherington Posh-Girl Smythe forebore her condition with only the occasional demand for an iced latte and a foot rub Hugh decided they must camp in the square outside St Paul's, even though they had no cash because Europe and Gideon and the bankers and a sub-prime mortgage scandal on the other side of the world had taken it all. So he bought a tent and heater and an iPhone charger, and got a Starbucks loyalty card as they must have the basics in life.

And as the hippies also living in that place huffed and puffed and organised LGBT inclusion committees SamCam was delivered of her firstborn child, conceived she had insisted while she was a virgin at the behest of an angel of the Lord and certainly not the lad next door whispering things through an impressionable 14-year-old's bedroom window.

She swaddled the baby in designer tat and laid him in a manger the hippies were using to feed their chihuahuas, because there was no room for them at the inn.

And behold there came three hacks from EC4A asking everyone they met: "Where is the child that is born of two celebrities? For we have seen it in the Star and are come to worship him, for the babe will sell many papers and pay our bar bills which are great."

When Charlie Boy the king heard these things he was troubled, for he thought celebrities would take attention away from serious news such as his latest green charity initiative although he was happy if no-one mentioned his running costs, the ex-wife or what his younger brothers were up to.

And Charlie Boy gathered all the chief scribes of Fleet Street together, and demanded they tell him where this child had been born. And they said unto him, we have not got a clue, how are we supposed to know? And he said, come along, I am not as stupid as I look, have you got Hugh's mobile number? And the scribes were shocked and said, how can you suggest such a thing, and Charlie Boy raised an eyebrow and said, if you don't tell me you're not getting on any more of my foreign junkets, and the scribes said, all right his best mate's told us he's at St Paul's but we only had to buy him a pint and not hack his phone, you'd be surprised how many friends and rellies hate the famous people they know, and Charlie Boy said Andrew's been seeing some Krgyztani bird you know, might be worth a look...

Then Charlie Boy sent the three hacks up the road with instructions to find the child and tell him about the babe, as he was as fascinated as everyone else in the country even though he liked to pretend he was above gossip which he wasn't as he was a human being and quite missed reading the News of the World.

The hacks departed and dressed as fake sheikhs followed the flashlights till they came and stood over where the young child was. And when they were come into the tent, they saw the young child with SamCam its mother, and took their picture and asked them to say how happy they were, and she said, piss off have you stolen my medical records, and Hugh insisted they must have bugged the donkey, and the hacks said do not be daft, there's a bloody great flashing light in the sky and besides the hippies rang the newsroom because they wanted fifty quid and you can't bug a donkey, we have tried it. Then they opened their treasures, and presented unto them gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh. And Hugh said, what use is this? And SamCam said your hands need a wash mate.

Then the three fake sheikhs asked for a receipt, and Hugh Grant kicked them from the stable.

Being warned in a drunken haze they should not return to the newsroom without a story, the three wise hacks knocked off and went to the pub. And an Angel of the Lord appeared to Hugh Grant in a dream, saying arise and take the child into Mustique, and stay there until I get a superinjunction to make all this go away.

And Charlie Boy seeing that he was mocked by the wise hacks for talking to plants and wanting to be a tampon, sent forth to slay all the celebrities in a Christmas bloodbath. He said, there is always one dies every Christmas, everyone knows that, and what is wrong if they all kark it.

Then The Babe spoke from its manger, and a few people who could be bothered stopped to listen for a minute.

And The Babe spat its dummy out and said: "Aside from the murder thing, which is bad, if you kill all celebrities and the hacks are not able to write about them any more then their newspapers will not sell, and The Reader will not see the really important but quite boring story on page 27. The boring things are the ones that matter most, but if people liked being bored The Groaner would sell millions and it don't. So let the tabs poke fun and entertain, so long as they treat others as they like to be treated themselves, and let the snoresheets help old men to sleep in the afternoons, and suffer the little celebrities to come to me to get their careers started until a few years later they turn round and moan about their privacy. We can forgive them, for they know not what they do. Let us love our enemies, for without them we would be bored."

And people thought for a minute, and saw The Babe had a point, even if they did not agree with all of it, and went about their business pretty much the same as they did before.

And The Babe wondered how to get a bottle of sauvignon blanc past mummy and daddy.

(With thanks to Nick Stern for the picture)