Newcastle Elders attend the birth of Alan Shearer with proper gifts.
As we all know the Newcastle elders wor Kev and Peter are busy men, if they’re not up to nowt they are up to fuck all, and all the respectful daren’t interupt. But today they allowed Greg Splatter of Notanews to tape an exclusive discussion on the barrier breaking Felix Bumhammers jump into the record books with a fucking immature waste of tax payers money.
Kev- So did yee hear aboot tha Felix lad jumping frem outer space man ?
Pete- Yee mean te syah a fucking moggie is parachuting? Ah fuckin telt you!!!
Kev- Nah man its a fucking man man , an he fell soo fast he broke the soond barrier.
Pete- Ah divvnae hear aboot it man .
Kev- Yee wouldn’t hev it wez tee fast.
Pete- What wez ? The moggie o the soond .
Kev- The man MAN!!!
Pete- Whatwas he deein up in space then?
Kev- Probably needed some welding dyun
Pete- He should be more canny than te fall.
Kev- They’re aal the same these cowboy mechanics.
Pete- Ya tellin me man! Probably charged NASA a fortune.
Kev- Me nephews a shit-hot welder man . He’d of probably dyun a betta job than tha Felix monkey an given them a little discount if he could hev worn a space suit.
Pete- Why won’t yee let him wear yer spacesuit Kev?
Kev- I’ve already telt yee why! Stop gannin on aboot it!
Pete- Ah haven’t browt it up in ages.
Kev- Well Ah divvent knaa abot tha Pete.
And like that they left. Giving us all something to think about.
Massive six-foot man-mountain Alan Shearer woke up yesterday to the news that his campaign of banging 206 record-breaking slags to raise awareness of insufficient military funding was potentially in tatters. While munching upon his regular breakfast of chicken and beans an emergency carrier pigeon arrived from the office of Newcastle Elders Wor Kev and Peter informing him that six of the lucky lasses selected to take part in his campaign had been kidnapped by Mackem terrorists under the command of vicious Wearside tyrant and benefit fraudster Chris Waddle. Outraged, the Geordie striker slammed his fist to the table and after formulating a rescue operation in a matter of seconds sent a carrier pigeon away to the Newcastle Elders informing them of the plan . . .
Step One – Locate Some of Women
“Rumours have it,” Shearer wrote, “that Waddle recently installed a purpose-built bachelor pad on the third floor of Hylton Castle. This seems like the most likely place he have holed up some of the girls but as Waddle is a slippery customer I very much doubt he’d make it that easy for us to put them all in the same place. But we’ll start there. Now, everyone knows that it’s perfectly within my powers to bound up the walls of the Castle after all I made a career out of getting one over the wall of Premiership defenders, however I’ll need Wor Peter to distract Waddle’s Mackem guards by any means necessary . . . ”
“That’s fine,” thought Wor Peter, “I can cast scorn on their stinking Mackem breath by throwing bags on minty fresh Jesmona Black Bullets at them. No doubt they’ll give chase and that should bide you some time.”
Shearer’s note continued: “With Wor Peter taking care of the guards, I’ll break inside the building, just like the way I broke into many a Premiership penalty box, and score a spectacular brace . . . ”
“After the formalities are through and I’ve ticked the two off my campaign tally, I’ll turn my attention to the whereabouts of the other slags . . . ”
Step Two – Holding the Fort
“Obviously as Wor Peter is otherwise engaged, Wor Kev will have to oversee the smooth running of Tyneside on his own, making sure that everything remains Black ‘n’ White ‘n’ True.”
Step Three – Interrogation
“Now it’s unlikely that the slags in the bachelor pad at Hylton Castle will know the whereabouts of the others, however no doubt there will be low level female employees working for Waddle, such as maids, that may well do. Before scaling back down the wall of the Castle I’ll take a hostage of my own and working quickly with well-proven techniques get some answers . . . ”
The Final Stage
Stages one to three were a complete success. It was discovered that the remaining slags were being held in Waddle’s headquarters above Oris Ltd sausage factory, Sunderland and now it was a race against time to rescue the girls and get his campaign back on track. Today, in an exclusive interview, the man who redefined the number 9 told NOTA reporters of how whilst fighting his way into Waddle’s sausagy compound it occurred to him that if the events that were transpiring were to be condensed into neatly packaged report it would be a canny 206th post for the NOTA News blog: “I thought to meself that given this could be the 206th post for your blog I should be dressed for the occasion. I took some dinner clothes from the bedroom and while get dressed fought my way through to the hostages.”
After dodging the attacks of one guard after another the world’s tallest six foot man found himself one on one with the last line of defense standing between him and the slags. “Divvn’t ye even think aboot it . . . Actually gan aheed make me day!” Shearer shouted . . .
The Geordie legend rounded up the remaining slags headed to the helipad where he had planned to steal Waddle’s Sausage-copter and fly the slags to safety. However two of the lasses, frightened that they might miss their opportunity to take part in Shearer’s campaign if the Sausage-copter were shot down whilst escaping, had other plans.
Despite being a performance of sexual prowess perhaps unwitnessed in the history of the Earth, in the process of banging the sheer heck out of these two blonde bints one of the other slags was snatched by Waddle’s Mackem minions. Wasting no time in postcoital clean up, the big Geordie legend gave the slags a quick yet thorough helicopter pilot lesson so they could fly to safety on their own.
The lasses arrived back to the office of Newcastle Elders Wor Kev and Peter in perfect nick yet as the hours when by there was no news from Shearer. What had happened to him? Had he managed to rescue the other girl? Had he been caught? The news quickly spread through Tyneside. The area became gripped by fear and as the day drifted ever more into night all hope seemed to be vanishing with it.
Then at 6:37 am this morning . . .
Meanwhile, having sworn revenge what evil is Mackem tyrant Chris Waddle summoning from the depths of Hell . . .
Happy New Year
Listen readers, I’m a bit drunk but I just wanted to say thanks for the continued support throughout 2011. You’ve been in another class to your run-of-the-mill blog reading cunt, you really have! Now I know what you’re thinking, did Big Alan Shearer bang those slags in the above photograph and thus adding a further three onto his already impressive score? Needless to say, of course he did. Even when he is celebrating the coming new year he’s still performing charitable deeds. Good lad! That’s 121 to go for that man Alan Shearer in his quest to raise awareness of the grossly limited budget of our Armed Forces by bedding 206 record-breaking slags. Wor Kev and Peter called first dibs on sloppy seconds.
Honestly though, you’ve been great followers of our humble news feed, and I’m pleased to say we’ve got some real treats in store this year for you so keep those eyes glued to your favourite blog. Now I’ve got to get back to the party. Hopefully Devil-may-care Lenny Henry hasn’t done what I think he might . . . Oh fuck he has.
Nota has always seen ourselves as a fair publication. We don’t tap phones of anyone, especially those in obvious distress. This is down to a moral obligation to our readers and that we can’t afford any of the required equipment. Seriously if we could we probably would, but in the meantime we’ll have to make do with the excellent opinions of Newcastle elders wor Kev ‘n’ Peter.
Kev- So hoo dee they get a tap into a phone Pete? Is it still hooked up te the mains?
Peter- Ah think it got a radio transmitter in it Kev.
Kev- So its beaming water in frem space?
Peter- Summat leik tha . Its amazin hoo far technology has come alang recently. Taps just used te be fre baths, then dancers foond a way of dancin on them, noo they can beam water ower yer phone line.
Kev-So when me phone breaks next time i’ll caal a plumber oot .
Peter- Dodgy bastards.
Kev- What if they put a phone tap in me bath tap? That’ll mean me taps tapped an aal the tappers will hear is the soond of me tap running ower a tap as its beaming space water oot its aan tap an mixing into me tap water.
Peter- Exactly. Ah reckon having a tap in yer phone waad be handy if yee want te brush yer teeth on the move. Yee can get a decent rinse oot of yer samsung galaxy.
Kev- Ah dropped mein doon the nettie Peter.
Peter- Divvent worry it should be fine, they hev te be waterproof if they can be fitted wi taps.
Kev- Thats true but it went roond the u-bend so Ahm back te shouting really loudly, it’s deein the missus heed in.
Peter- Well ah divvent knaa aboot tha Kev
After a brief tour of Scotland, legendary Newcastle number nine Alan Shearer flew down to Leeds yesterday to continue his campaign of banging 206 record-breaking slags to raise awareness of poor military funding at the Be-Ro Onedayer Festival at Leeds Corn Exchange. The sell-out event saw the Big Al headline with support from some of the best local bands – in their opinion – Leeds has to offer. Within seconds of landing, Mr. Shearer got straight down to business with event co-ordinator Kelly Baldwin, giving a small but enthusiastic group of fans a taste of what was to come later in evening (see below).
Regardless of how much the people of Leeds claim to like the shite bands from their area and despite how much their enjoyed singing along all day to them, there was only one man they’d paid top money to see and when headline act Alan Shearer took to the stage followed by ten local bints the roar from the crowd was deafening. Midway through banging slag number two the Geordie striker stopped. The bemused crowd remained in perfect silence as Shearer stood motionless. A few members of the audience were biting
their lips and shaking their heads thinking something had gone wrong. A concerned-looking Shearer picked up his microphone, feigning disappointment before breaking into . . .
“Please welcome on stage . . . here to pick up sloppy seconds . . . all the way from the Toon . . . my dear friends and the Newcastle Elders . . . Wor Kev and Peter!”
The Leeds Corn Exchange became an ecstatic pandemonium as Keegan and Beardsley entered from stage left and right respectfully and picked up from where Shearer had left off. Despite a valiant effort by the Newcastle Elders, and some audience members who had crowd-surfed onto the stage, the only person to get through all ten slags before nature got the better of them was the man himself, Alan Shearer!
The towering number nine wasn’t finished yet, however. After his set Mr. Shearer gave an exclusive performance for Sky Arts 1 team Zoe Ball and Huy Stephens for their coverage of the one day festival (above) and before the night was through picked up local lass Gabby Hutton at the after show party (below) taking his grand total for the day to a staggering 13 slags! Wow!
150 – 13 = 137 to go!
NOTA regulars wor Kev & Peter are two of the most up to date commentators on world events. They begged the staff down here at NOTA to tape one of their discussions on the tragic event that befell our motorway system just the other day. NOTA realizing the the authority the two Geordie Elders hold, could hardly say no.
Kev- So is it caal’d the M5 cos theirs five M’s in the road nyame ?
Peter- What? So it’s the MMM 5?
Kev- Ne man, tha ernly sounded leik yee sez two or three M’s just there.
Peter- Well hoo am Ah supposed te knaa hoo long te syah M fre te myek it soond leik 5 M’s?
Kev- Well try counting te five whilst yee syah it leik .
Peter – What leik ? MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM…..
Kev- Ne man, you’ve gone tee far leik . tha were more leik twenty M’s. Ahm gonna syah it an try te count the M’s visually in me heed leik .
Peter- You’re proper clever yee leik .
Kev- MMMMM! There wi gan , Ah think Ah got it man!
Peter- Yee forgot te syah 5 at the end leik .
Kev- Ah must of forgotten. Me mind wez tee busy counting te five M’s te remember owt else leik .
Peter- This is hard, man. There must be an easier way te syah it. Hoo aboot saying it wi an ‘E’ at the beginning? So it’s leik eM5?
Kev- Aah ne . Wi canna dee tha, like. It’ll myek me think aboot me wifie Emily an ah divvent want te be thinking aboot hor when we’re meeting those birds later.
Peter- Agreed. Yer missus has seen much betta days. Hoo bout wi a ‘U’ at the stort , so its leik uM5?
Peter- Um man!
Kev- This is gannin roond in circles leik .
Peter- Is the uM5 a ring road?
Kev- Well Ah divvent knaa aboot tha, man, Ah leik te hev a nap in the car me leik .
Peter- Aye, thats why yee lost yer license, man.
Kev- Well Ah divvent knaa aboot tha Peter.
Today Nota favorites wor Kev and Peter celebrated the jailing of Doctor Conrad Murray ATB, for being Michael Jacksons dealer, and eventually killing him by selling him bad crack. Both Kev and Peter have been Jacko fans for years and expressed their thoughts over a nice rough shag.
Peter-“Ah remember when the Jackson five were let oot of prison affta they were foond innocent of those bombings. Why the courts thowt they had summat against Birmingham i’ll nivvor knaa . Having sez tha the quality of thor music has really sagged lately like.”
Kev-“Ah divvnae understand Michael. Forst he wez black, then he wez white, then he wez black agyen an he stayed black a while ah think, then he wez white agyen an joined Bros fre a bit, then he went black agyen fre a comeback or summat . Then he went a lovely eggshell white wi broon speckles, then white agyen fre a bit longer, then he went black agyen . Havin’ sez tha theres ne way of really knowin what colour he wez , i’ve nivvor owned a colour tv me like.”
Wor Kev ‘n’ Peter once again took a break from their good for nothing hollowed out wives today to celebrate the news of women being deemed as worthy to the British throne as men. A change both of the Newcastle Elders were most happy with. Peter cheerily told us what this decision means for him after only reading half the article, “So Kate Middletons gonna put on a gold Bikini an become empress eh? Well thats betta than tha soggy git William bein involved, he should gan back te shagging tha ginger spice. STD ridden slag.” Kev added, “Ah used te think regals were nothin more than tabs but the dayuh showed me tha regals are not tabs, regals are regals whee wear posh regal clothes an smoke regals leik . Apparenty at some point this cuntry is gonna hava a queen man! But ah divvent think it’ll happen in me lifetime. “