Ollie Packer has officially ceased to exist since accidentally shredding his birth certificate.
"I thought it was about time I decluttered," said Packer. "So I got rid of all the junk - old bank statements, expired insurance schedules, wage slips ... and also my birth certificate. I mean, I've already been born - here I am. I'm not planning on getting born again so I figure I don't need it."
Wrong. Packer has pulled off the legal equivalent of disappearing up his own hole, and here's the science: without proof of birth, this brainiac has become a zero-potential metaphysical concept with no real-time existence as an objective spacio-temporal event. Ha, that'll learn him. But you don't need to know that; all you need to know is that he can't get a passport and no one will serve him at the post office.
So far, all of Packer's attempts to establish his credentials as an actual human person have been a fat lot of no good at all. He cannot apply for a replacement certificate because he doesn't exist. He doesn't have a driving licence because he doesn't exist. He doesn't have a passport because... You can see how this 'not existing' lark is something of a pain in the padding. He has even attempted to get a letter of corporeality from his doctor but is unable to get past the dickhead of an automated booking system because it refuses to recognise him as a real entity.
But there is one last hope for Packer - because of some sort of legal doodah he can register himself as a racehorse.
"The British Horseracing Authority has welcomed me with open fetlocks," he told us, assuming we were interested. "Ok, so it means a diet of oats and I've got a visit to the vets tomorrow that I'm really not looking forward to, but none of that will matter when I'm waiting in the starting gate at Kempton Park next Saturday. And we're off!"
Spies vs Zombies and Space Aliens with Car Chases and Guns and Stuff may at first squint seem like just another mindless and formulaic action flick, but Hollywood might be teetering on the edge of a new age in cinema. I know, I know - every other film that comes out represents a new age in bleeding cinema, but that's just your standard promotional bull-plop. This could be the real deal since it's the first movie to be made with real performers in real locations, but with a completely computer generated crew.
Yep, the camera operators, the sound people, the folio artist, the horse wrangler, the caterers, the key grip and the assistant editor - especially the assistant editor - are all CGI. As you can imagine, this inevitably this led to some hilarious misunderstandings. Well, keep imagining that because we couldn't think of any, so this particular paragraph ends on a bit of an anti-climax.
Anyhowever, soldiering on in the hope that we might come up with a punchline, we asked director Mario Pacman for his thoughts. Unfortunately he was unavailable for comment as he had just crashed and had to be rebooted.
The magazine for people who don't give a toss one way or another
Orville Crumble thought he was on to a good thing when he decided to float his legs on the stock exchange but, following the purchase of his knees last month by a Japanese investment conglomerate, Mr Crumble has now lost outright control of the lower half of his body.
...'Orville Crumble', what kind of a name is that? Anyway, let's crack on...
"I've been a bloody fool," Mr Crumble admits, as if it wasn't obvious. "I should have realised that there was a risk of losing my status as majority shareholder when I sold my shins before Christmas. Now I simply don't have a leg to stand on and have been forced to lease back my own feet. Honestly, I could kick myself, if the small print allowed for it."
Having learned that plans are afoot to open his legs to the public, Mr Crumble has decided to dig his heels in and has launched a legal challenge which he hopes will finally kick the scheme into touch. He stands a good chance, but unfortunately he has just learned that a Panamanian property developer is contemplating an aggressive takeover bid for his elbows.
Orville Crumble's legs appear in this item by kind permission of Mitsubishi UFJ Financial.
Workmen carrying out routine maintenance at Wembley Stadium have discovered an eighty-one-year-old midfielder from the 1966 World Cup squad who didn't realise the match was over.
Rumours of a missing footballer have been circulating for some time and numerous sightings have been reported in and around the stadium over the years. By 1971 the legend of the lost footballer was already well established, with eye witnesses describing a shabby, shambling and emaciated figure dribbling in the stands or practising keepy-uppy in the car park.
But the most famous encounter with the mysterious figure came in 1978, reported by surgeon and keen football fan Bobby Wilson. Having watched his team Arsenal lose to Ipswich Town in the FA cup final, Wilson retired to the gents for a cry, and it was here that he chanced across the phantom footballer.
"He seemed very nervous, very cautious and timorous," Wilson recalls. "He backed away when I approached, but I immediately recognised him as one of the original '66 squad because he was in black and white, which is exactly how he'd looked when I watched it on the telly."
Despite the apparition's timidity, Wilson was able to take a picture before the figure disappeared - one of several photographs that Wilson took in the gents at that time, all of which were sadly seized by the police and have yet to see the light of day.
But although physical evidence has been hard to come by, there have been plenty of other reported sightings at sporting events, music concerts and other occasions over the years. One of the most hotly debated manifestations occurred during the Live Aid concert in 1985 when several TV viewers phoned in to say that had spotted a grubby, dishevelled figure moping about backstage, shuffling about at the back of the royal box or even, at one point, taking to the stage and singing 'I Don't Like Mondays'.
And reports didn't stop when the old Wembley Stadium was demolished to make way for a new plastic version in 2002. Even while the new facility was being built there were numerous complaints from contractors about their equipment being interfered with and their sandwiches being stolen. Such tales were not taken seriously at the time but, following this discovery, we now know the full story: midfielder Albert Parkes, who went missing after being frightened by a police horse at half time, has indeed been hiding out at the stadium since England's celebrated victory.
Workmen eventually tracked him down by following him back to the nest he had crudely fashioned out of goal nets and old jockstraps, perched precariously in the roof beams of a subsidiary boiler house. Initially he refused to come down, but was eventually persuaded to surrender by Jackie Charlton, who convinced him that the match was finally over.
It's all been a bit of an ordeal for poor Albert, but it's nothing near the shock he's going to get when he learns that he's still under contract and that he's going to be kicking off against Italy next month.
Did this blurry 1978 photograph capture the furtive footballer prowling around one of Wembley's changing rooms? Or is it just Bigfoot? Again.
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