There Is No Satire

The Spurious Chronicle is deeply saddened to announce that, for this year's April edition, readers will be unable to find their usual piece of satire. In the last few months, though the team of 42 hyperintelligent Dolphins behind your monthly allowance of alternative facts has always strived diligently to deliver, the rapid rate at which the Reality column of our age-old competitor, 'The BabylOnion', has shamelessly stolen their hard work has proven too great to overcome without casualty. As many faithful readers are no doubt already aware, the recent ill-fated 'Great Finnish Fish Heist' has left 35 of our discerning Delphinidaean writers imprisoned in a Finnish penitentiary as they await trial, while our other staff have done their duty in pleading ignorance to investigators over the whereabouts of the remaining 7. "It's Not Like We Wanted To Filch Those Fish From That Faultless Financier, Or Anyfing," explained Dolphin twins Arthur and Dent, who spoke to our head office in alternating turns shortly after being booked, "But We Simply Feared Being Fired For Failing To Forward Enuff Fantastical Writing To Overcome Reality's Blantant Plagiarism, And Wanted A Backup Plan In Case We Were Fired."


The heist, which involved an elaborate sequence of convincing disguises, convenient timing, and an escape route through a nearby Dolphin sanctuary, would have gone off without a hitch, had the crew not had the misfortune of being tracked down via the acute sense of smell of a psychotic French Redhead; even the banana cannon (manned by a small crew of Monkeys) they had brought in as a backup wasn't enough to deter the olfactory omen in the end. So, while the rest of us at the Spurious Chronicle totally, definitely​​​ don't plan a breakout for the brave 35 so illegally locked up, our usual readers will have to forgive us for the lack of satirical content in this month's edition. As tough as it is to accept, we are entirely, 100% serious about all this.

Russian Foreign Minister Surprised Rest Of World Still There To Oppose Them

Nearly 10 months ago to this day, the Russian Federative Republic shockingly fired several hundred defective nuclear weapons at numerous NATO nations - reports of nuclear devastation at the time having since been traced back to an LSD-fuelled play-through of Fallout 2 gone wrong - before moving practically their entire population underground into an assumedly intricate bunker system. However, communication with the Russian Foreign Minister was unexpectedly reestablished just a few hours ago, with Mr Sergey Lavrov looking decidedly more haggard and bloodied since last contact. "W-Well, this is, um... kind of awkward, no?" he chuckled nervously, the faint outline of dried blood and gristle visible beneath a mask of poorly-shaven stubble. "W-We were assured by our top political yes-men that once we launched the missiles, you all would be, eh, too dead to stop our righteous conquest." Reaching into the last pocket on his tattered overcoat, and pulling out an equally tattered handkerchief, he would dab his sweaty forehead to no avail before continuing. "H-However, the West shall still fall to the might of our glorious army, wh-where 'strategic' mass starvation has allowed us to equip each and every one of our remaining soldiers with over 17 ½ fine Russian rifles, all carved straight from the toughest granite we could find!" Just behind him, a reinforced steel door barely fixed to its hinges began to creak and groan, as what appeared to be an angry mob began to force their way in. Jumping what seemed to be a whole metre into the air, Mr Lavrov then swiftly struck a big, red button labelled 'Doorman', at which point the furious roars were quickly replaced with sounds of splashing and gnashing. "I-In any case, b-being the... benevolent ruler that I am, I will allow the nations of the West to delay their inevitable demise by delivering large shipments of corn to the back entrance of the Moscow Bunker System. Preferably very, very soon. End communication." The Foreign Minister then fumbled with the webcam for two minutes straight, before eventually giving up, and simply smashed it to pieces with a human skull.

Santa Claus Canonised As Patron Saint Of Burglars

The 4th-century Greek bishop Nicholas, whose actions went on to inspire the modern-day Santa Claus, was officially canonised as a Saint by the Vatican this last Sunday. The rub? In addition to his patron-saintage of archers, merchants, and sailors among others, the Catholic Church has decreed that to match his modern image, he would also become the patron of burglars worldwide. "The Wonderworker of Myra embodied each and every value a true Christian official should possess throughout their life, minus a fondness for altar boys, and it is about time he was properly recognised for his holy nature," declared Pope Francis from his studio window in the centre of Rome, seemingly having remembered to don his papal mitre while having forgotten his matching robes, wearing a dirty tank top in its stead. "However, just as a man set before God is seen in whole before His Judgement is cast, his sainthood must similarly reflect the whole of his earthly contributions; therefore, it is by God's will alone that, with his divine skill in breaking and entering, the patronage of Saint Nicholas shall grow to also include house-burglars, forevermore." Naturally, the news that Kris Kringle was now technically a felon under international law was hard for parents across the globe to break, to children and their mannish counterparts alike. "Buh-buh-but Mommy told me Santy Caus was nice, an' brouwt da prezzies, n' stuff!" wails xXx_g4m3r_b0y_360_xXx as he stands heartbroken in the midst of his Fortnite match, the astoundingly poor quality of his microphone making it a challenge to tell whether he's 13 or 30. "Honestly, I kinda got that kinda vibe from him all along, so I'm glad our perspective's finally being accepted," notes prominent thief Paul Sernine, speaking to us in an exclusive interview while stuffing a top hat, a monacle, and a gentleman's cane into his looting-bag as he rifles through yet another of his victims' houses. "I mean, we both invite ourselves unannounced, we usually do so while everyone else is sleeping, and by the time they wake up and enter the living room all surprised-like, we're already long gone; what's really so different between the two of us?" Most surprising of all, however, were the reactions from the two Nicks themselves; countless Christmas-decorated shopfronts were all but annihilated in heavenly-gold beams of destruction less than 24 hours after the Vatican's announcement, and in seeming retaliation, numerous churches and tombs dedicated to the Saint were found similarly vandalised with only tinsel and peppermint fragments left behind as clues, which all just begs the question; is a War of the Wonderworkers on the horizon? Fear not, dear readers, because we at the Spurious Chronicle won't stop until we've carved this roast beast of a story for all Who-manity's sake.

Zombie Hordes To Pursue Space Program Following Failure To Locate Brains Anywhere On Earth

As has been tradition every year on Halloween, uncountable masses of the undead have predictably scourged the vast landscapes of the world in search of delectable grey matter, only to inevitably be beaten back by our brave boots in battle. However, following their umpteenth defeat since time immemorial, the ghouls left most undamaged by the conflict have now officially announced their intention to begin the search for brains elsewhere in the galaxy after coming up empty on Earth. "Our innate, ravenous hunger for skull soup has always been the defining feature of our people," translated a slightly-nibbled and shackled Sir Chuck Loin for Head Slurper Ed Winchester, "and our every action has always been taken to preserve it. But with a dead, heavy heart I must confirm that, after all the time and effort we have put in to secure those delicious, delicious brains, there are simply none to be found anywhere on Planet Earth." The attending audience of zombies, having suffered far more rot than Winchester had, could only growl in collective disappointment. "But hope is not yet lost, for great opportunity presents itself in the final frontier, and the noggins it may containt; by scrapping our combined prosthetics, lodged weapons, and countless abandoned cars, we shall assemble the greatest spacecraft this world has ever seen, and with it, take back what is rightfully ours to gnaw upon!" Naturally, the crowd burst into raucous groans and moans, the very conception of alien brains being enough for some to inexplicably begin salivating again. While the United Nations were scheduled to make a collective statement regarding Winchester's announcement a few hours ago, recent reports indicate that the constituent representatives saw a squirrel and all began to bark and chase after it on all fours, likely delaying any kind of coordinated response to the Zombie space programme.

World's Famous Landmarks, Major Cities To Go Into Hiding After Ominous Music Starts Playing

In a coordinated press statement conducted by NATO, CSTO, and SCO diplomats just moments ago, it was confirmed that the landmarks, cities, and geography of the world were in the process of being secured through removal and obfuscation in direct response to the foreboding music which, since its sudden appearance less than half an hour ago, has been steadily increasing in intensity as some unseen disaster likely readies itself to strike. “Plans to preserve and protect our most recognisable locations have been in place ever since 2012- the movie, mind you, not the year -and that preparation has now allowed us to act decisively and efficiently,” noted US Secretary of State Antony Blinken as he made sure his fingers were still entwined with one another. “Had we not anticipated a slow-building orchestral score coming from nowhere in particular as a sign of impending doom all those years ago, I suspect we would now be in a much worse place in terms of getting these places to safety in time.” While some landmarks were seemingly easy enough to hide away (such as the flattening of the Eiffel Tower achieved with an ACME-brand anvil, or the strategic placement of wild bicycle herds throughout Amsterdam), the very official nature of the statement has meant those still in the process of being, and even yet to be, secured are now under intense public scrutiny, especially by those living in close proximity to them. “I’m, like, not even 10 minutes away from hashtag-bigred over there,” complains cyber-pervasive vegan mocha micro-brewery owner and San Francisco native Atticus Ruby Silas Eloise, “and my hashtag-goodvibes would so totally be killed if I were too, so the fact I can still see it in the background of my post-meta-ironic polaroids is very problematic and needs changing, periodt. Hashtag-notmyapocalypse.” Perhaps most controversially of all, the New Englander and Great Lakes state governments have openly communicated their intention to simply allow whatever disaster is coming free passage through their cities, claiming that “the complete and utter annihilation of our largest metropolitan areas would likely have a net positive effect on the economy”. In order to prevent a premature beginning to the catastrophe, citizens across the world have been advised to panic as much as they physically can, since advising the opposite is almost always ironically timed, and therefore all but guarantees the appearance of some horrifying WHAT THE HELL IS THAT WH