Showing posts with label Obituaries. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Obituaries. Show all posts

Friday, 13 September 2013

OBITUARY: Reverend Dr Julius Emery


(Above: The Revererend Emery yesterday)
The Satire today bids farewell to our Religious Affairs Correspondent the Extremely Reverend Prof Dr Julius Emery, who passed away peacefully in prayer aboard a rocket hurtling into space at a speed of 12000 miles an hour and reaching an inner-hull temperature in excess of 8000 degrees farenheight.
Unfortunately Dr Emery had been mistakenly informed by his medical advisor (Dr Seamus Beejezus O'Flaherty) that merely stripping down to his swimming trunks and sunhat and dabbing on some Factor 12 would be enough to protect him from the excessive heat during launch. This unfortunately proved not to be the case.
Reverend Emery is remembered by the staff and patients of Broadmoor and by the staff and patients here at the offices of The Satire.
He leaves behind the world's largest collection of antique micrscopes (current valuation £26.4m Euros) and a strange Irishman claiming to be his long-lost half-brother and heir to the Emery estate.
Thankfully the vending machine remains intact and is currently sitting in the foyer of The Satire reception area where it continues to dispense molten snacks and beverages to anyone wearing the requisite asbestos clothing and visor.
Bobo the chimp was seen leaving the capsule by parachute shortly before take-off.

Wednesday, 4 September 2013

OBITUARY : RIP Colonel Tommy Pritchard


Tommy as he would often appear at The Satire offices. In later years naked from the waist down

The Satire today bids farewell to its Sports Editor Colonel Tommy Pritchard, who passed away peacefully in his sleep behind the wheel of his 1984 Citroen Clio on the M8.

Born Colonel Thomas Randolph Ambidexter Pritchard of a Scots Presbyterian father and American Quaker mother in Thika Kenya in 1941, "Tommy" spent his formative years among the colonial prosperity of the happy valley set. The title for Elspeth Huxley's novel The Flame Trees...came from the time that young Tommy set fire to a local plantation, ruining the owner. Luckily he managed to blame it on the houseboy who later died in police custody. No formal charges were ever pressed.

Tommy enlisted in the KAR in 1959 where due to a mix up arising from his name he was able to become the youngest ever commanding officer of the 3rd Battalion. In a disaster in the last years of the Mau Mau owing to his complete lack of experience he managed to surround and attack a column of his own askaris and sustain the onslaught for 31 days. On discovering his mistake he slipped out of camp during the night and joined the surrounded troops on the other side. In the confusion he was able to mount a counter attack against those under his former command and overwhelm them. This was recorded as one of the greatest breakouts ever and he was mentioned in dispatches leading to him being decorated for gallantry.


Tommy joined The Satire from the Army in 1971 after a very brief and unsuccessful stint at a regional boys boarding school, although no formal charges were ever pressed.
He quickly gained a reputation at The Satire as a somewhat boisterous devil-may-care character would often be found wrestling naked on the floor of the photo-editors suite with Sambo his man-servant from his time out in East Africa helping to build a football pitch in a private boys school, although no formal charges were ever pressed.

Tommy was known by all who knew him as very much a man's man. In his black leather chaps, white stetson, sequined waistcoat and enormous handlebar moustache he was a colourful presence around the Satire offices for over 40 years. And his posts on the ups and downs of under-14 schoolboy rugby, hockey, gymnastics and greco-roman wrestling (a sport he campaigned tirelessly to bring back into the curriculum - although no charges were ever pressed) were always a riveting read.

Tommy's later years were of course dogged with controversy. While involved in a protest against the Springbok tour of New Zealand in 1981, Tommy once again realised he was on the wrong side and attacked the anti apartheid protesters with a placard. In recent memory his playful attempts at "wrestling" the speedo's from an embarrassed Tom Daly at the London Olympics were much frowned upon. His colourful and some would say racist and sexist remarks were very much those of a man of his time and a constant affront to those who worked with him. Though again no formal charges were ever pressed.

He leaves behind an ex-wife in Mombasa, a young Romanian friend Nicu in the local Salvation Army hostel and a motorway strewn with wreckage.


Sunday, 4 August 2013

OBITUARY: RIP Margaret Merriweather

The Bench where Margaret would rail against twilight till forcibly removed by park wardens.

The Satire today bids farewell to our Environmental & Meteorological Correspondent Margaret Merriweather who has died horrifically in her sleep.

Margaret started on the magazine way back  in the 1940's straight from Cheltenham Ladies College and soon became a regular but thoroughly disliked member of the editorial team. Unfortunately she was heavily litigious even back then so we had no choice but to keep her on.

Anyone who knew Margaret will know she had her eccentricities.

In particular, she could not abide the changing of the seasons. The very idea for example of Spring turning into Summer abhored Margaret. And as a young child she had campaigned vigorously, tirelessly, passionately and utterly pointlessly for a world-wide ban on all seasons.

Her two nemeses were Frankie Vali and the 17th century Italian composer Antonio Vivaldi, whose grave she faithfully shat on every year on his birthday. Even into her 90's, where she had to be helped from her bathchair and held over the headstone by her long-suffering grandchildren, she insisted on keeping up the protest.

From the earliest age, Margaret had actively and visibly displayed her contempt for the seasons in every way she could - wearing flimsy swimwear and flipflops in the December blizzards of 1962, donning full eskimo gear during the scorching 1976 heatwave and taking great delight in only eating pears which had yet to ripen.

But her tireless efforts had no effect and the seasons carried on regardless.


Towards the end of her life, her intolerance begun to extend to the concept of day turning into night and she had eventually refused to sleep at all saying enigmatically, 'That just encourages the cheeky cunt!"

She leaves behind a weary husband and 12 traumatised grandchildren.