It’s never easy to say farewell to an old friend, but sometimes it’s inevitable. And so it is with heavy hearts that we bid a fond adieu to one of our stalwart commentators here at Hoaxtead Research: Costa del Troll, we hardly knew ye!
The problem, you see, is that Mr or Ms del Troll (we never really knew our friend’s gender, as all information was discreetly slipped through our mail slot each morning in a sealed brown envelope, accompanied by a neatly penned invoice) has lost his or her bailiwick.
He or she went to report on Kristie Sue Costa’s usual abysmal collection of lies, half-truths, and imbecilic brain farts at her “Beneath the Chickens” Facebook page yesterday afternoon, only to discover that it had been rendered invisible!
Instead, this appeared in its place:
Flustered, CDT tried the mobile version. No joy there either: And so, reluctantly but in his or her usual stalwart fashion, CDT tendered his or her resignation.
The usual farewell bash was held—chocolate digestives, a nice aspic, coffee or tea, half a bottle of cooking sherry, and a partially chewed chicken which EC donated at the last moment. No one had the heart to explain that one usually removes the feathers and cooks the bird before attempting to eat it, but after the party, Spiny Norman discreetly disposed of it in the wheelie-bin belonging to the next office.
Spiny also took it upon himself to inform Kristie Sue that those of us on this side of the pond will henceforth no longer be exposed to her daily drivel: Now, of course, everyone here at Hoaxtead HQ is glancing nervously at one another. The one unspoken question which is nevertheless on everyone’s minds: who’s next? Slain Crater? Moosnight? The Shampoo Liberation Front? The tension is palpable, as we all wait to see whose beat will be eliminated next.
Meanwhile, EC seems to have found that bloody chicken again and is trying to offer it round, and Miss Camden Town Baths 1947 is fending him off vigorously with one of her high-heeled shoes. Justin Sanity has somehow laid hands on a karaoke machine and is leading a somewhat libatious version of “Stop! In the Name of Love”, while Arthur Pint has adopted a lampshade as a hat and has ordered out for vindaloo.
No one has seen CdT for hours, and someone just ate the digestive we’d set aside for him. Send help.