"The Joint Morris Organisations, the umbrella group for the hobby, has said it is struggling to cope with a nationwide shortage of 'irons' to fit onto the clogs worn by dancers. The dearth has been blamed on a lack of blacksmiths now producing the items, which are fitted to the soles of the wooden footwear, rather like horse shoes, in order to maximise the noise made by the dance routines. Morris dancers say that unless supplies can be restored, some sides – as groups are known – will stop performing, while others will have to switch to more readily-available rubber fittings, which make far less noise."
How old is Britain's youngest football hooligan? The answer may surprise you.
"This is bladey madness" is actually an expose of the ease with which young Britons can procure "LETHAL swords, machetes and knives," but it would also be a great title for a compilation of current music from over there, if someone is interested in putting one together.
London mayor Boris Johnson had kind of a rough weekend. If you are someone who feels like, "Who is that and why should I care?" I would not normally disagree with you, except that the man is remarkably entertaining and you would definitely enjoy knowing more about him.
Whenever the meat supply on Knifecrime Island is perceived to be compromised, the government of the day trots out an unlucky official to take one for the team and graze on whatever bits of gristle and hoof they want to reassure their suddenly squeamish countrymen—people who eat sausage made out of dried blood on a regular basis—that everything's just fine. Nearly a quarter century after an agriculture minister attempted to fell the fear that crazy cows might do further damage to the already addled grey matter of that cursed island's lager-fueled legion of louts by attempting (unsuccessfully) to cram a BSE-burger into a [...]
"One in four adults has the maths skills of a nine-year-old or worse and struggles with the most basic everyday sums. According to a shock report, more than eight million adults in England are considered to lack even basic numeracy." Hahahaha, England! 1 in 4 adults! That's like 50% or something!
"MPs are demanding the BBC back down over plans to play the song Ding-Dong the Witch is Dead on the official singles chart this weekend, after a concerted campaign to make it number one. The Judy Garland song has been seized on by opponents of Margaret Thatcher to celebrate her death from a stroke earlier this week and it has already sold 20,000 copies since Monday. A collection of right-wing newspapers – which just recently were campaigning for media freedom against the Leveson report –have also demanded the BBC desist from playing the song, no matter where it ends up in the charts."
"British people can now aspire to and despise four new levels of social classes, according to a new survey conducted by researchers in partnership with public broadcaster the BBC." Replacing your classic "upper," "middle" and "working" cohorts are seven new classes: "Elite," "Established Middle," "Technical Middle," "New Affluent Workers," "Traditional Working," "Emergent Service Workers" and "Precarious Proletariat." Distinctions aside, they will all stab you for looking at them funny. Which one would you be?
The murdered remains of another scrawny Englishman found in the rubble of a "car park" is actually the long-dead hunchback king, Richard III. This is why the United Kingdom continues to cling to its quaint system of royalty, so that a wayward stabbed king can occasionally be found in the sodden ground beneath a parking lot, to give people hope.
A skeleton found beneath a Leicester car park has been confirmed as that of English king Richard III. Experts from the University of Leicester said DNA from the bones matched that of descendants of the monarch's family …. Richard, killed in battle in 1485, will be reinterred in [...]
Cheesy name for a baby. RT @mikeallenLONDON, December 3, 2012 (AFP) – Britain's Prince William and Kate expecting a baby: palace
— Mark Harris (@MarkHarrisNYC) December 3, 2012
Hahahah! What would you name the possible baby who might someday rule whatever slashed-up crater remains of Britain? London? Palace? Adele? Tell us in the comments! Actually, go talk about it on Tumblr, I hear there's something fun going on over there.
English stabbies are so bored with their usual bedlam that they've begun robbing famous prisons. The Tower of London, the British Empire's beloved historical place to torture its political dissidents, was the target of a bold thief who stole the Tower's keys on Guy Fawkes Night. The keys open not only the locks on the drawbridges, but also the doors to the tourist restaurant and a conference room—perhaps the very conference room where Henry VIII had Anne Boleyn executed in 1536.
"Plans to ban the pint glass from pubs throughout the Highlands of Scotland have sparked outrage."
"A landmark bridge opened by fashion designer Julien Macdonald in his home town has been forced to close after metal thieves stole sections of it," which, this being Britain, they will presumably turn into knives.
"A school has banned triangular flapjacks on health and safety grounds after a pupil was hit in the eye by one during a lunch-time food fight. Dinner ladies at the comprehensive school were told to cut flapjacks into squares or rectangles only from now on after the Year 7 boy was sent home complaining of a sore eye." —It is important to keep in mind that "flapjacks" are different over there (here is a manual) but it is more important to keep in mind that there is nothing British people cannot turn into a knife.
"The annual Shed of the Year competition to search for the UK’s most wacky and wonderful sheds is underway." Are there photos, you ask? Are there photos? Why, gentle reader, there is a whole PHOTOGALLERY.
"Nearly a fifth of Britons fail to change their sheets at least one a month, startling new figures suggest." (This news is startling only if you don't recall that a) this is an annual feature and b) it is a well-established fact that Britons are the most verminous, filth-encrusted hominids to roam the earth and that they recoil from the idea of washing up even more quickly than they do from the glint of a blade wielded with menacing intent which, to be fair, they are probably desensitized to by now. )