Satirical Genius "F#*ked for Ideas"

Just look at him....... Fucking devoid

Satire Editor in Chief and self proclaimed satirical wunderkind Tom Laird, confessed privately to "Not having the foggiest scooby" about what his next article was going to be about.

The 47 year old dead beat told himself in the mirror, after waking up from a four day drinking binge that would have shamed Oliver Reid, "Laird you are fucking dead loss and a waste of rations."

He proceeded to gibber on..

"Look ya beardy fuckwit. It's nearly 2015 and your contribution to the world of on line humour is a grand total of four, yeah that's right, you heard, FOUR poxy articles. Hardly P.J O'Rourke or Richard Ingrams are you ya dick?"

Punching himself in the face several times he then slavered..

"Yeah I know all about your 'ideas'. We've all got ideas. How about getting them off of bits of bus ticket, post it notes, beer mats and sweety papers and actually onto your blog ya knob? LOOK!! look at this. 'David Cameron to Introduce Duck Insurance' I mean WTF!? Or this here.. 'Ian Paisley to Give Up Bellowing For Lent' .By fuck has that bus left. The man's deid two years for fucksakes. Sort yourself out."

Emerging haggard, bruised and gaunt from the 46 minute berating Mr. Laird announced..

"I can exclusively reveal that my genius will return shortly. There's a new hilarious article formulating as I speak. Fuck knows what it's going to be about. Probably feminism again. That's easy."

All Mr. Lairds fan (27) was unimpressed

New Town Man Shits Himself at the Thought of ACTUALLY Living in the Country

Sstruan as he's chosen to be immortalised with one of his dogs Monty 

A man who gads about Stockbridge in tweed plus fours, dressed like a fucking extra from To The Manor Born, shat himself last week at the very notion of not living in the city.

Sstruan Findlater-Twatpiece (33), a former pupil of George Watson's college and resident of Heriot Row, found himself in the ghastly situation of possibly having to relocate to rural Perthshire as part of a workplace promotion. He and his partner Ffyon are among Barbour TM and Hunter's TM  best UK customers, and are lifetime subscribers to Horse & Hound and Cunty (surely Country. Ed) Life magazines.

Speaking from the tailgate of his pristine Land Rover Defender, decal-led with fake mud splatters, that he uses to mow down cyclists and demolish the wing mirrors of parked cars. He explained..

"I made my weekly visit to the office last Monday at Huckster,Shyster and Cunt were I'm engaged as an HR Under Manager to be told the "good news" by my Boss." 

"Congratulations old chap! You'll be pleased to know we've decided to give you a promotion, running a new office we have at Moor of Rannoch. No need for thanks, you richly deserve it"

"The Bastard! I couldn't work out what I'd done wrong. Ffyon and I took a helicopter trip up there and it really is the arsefuck of nowhere. We have two Labradors a Spaniel, a Rhodesian Ridgeback and a Jack Russell. What in the name of god would they do up here? I mean the nearest Waitrose is in Glasgow for fucksakes and I would't be able to have my magazines delivered. Also about 5 am you hear this godawful bellowing every morning. I asked what it was down the nearest so called pub, they don't even do cocktails, and they told me the noise is what they call 'cows'. Fuck that! Then to cap it all off when Ffyon inquired in the local Church about Pilates and Zumba classes they told her the only thing they do is something called prayer and worship. Peasants! Anyway thankfully it all fell through. By the way that's Sstruan with two s's and ditto for Ffyon."

"Struan tried to put a brave face on it when I gave him the bad news about the deal falling through." His boss told The Satire . " He punched the air and shouted 'YeeeeEEEssss you fucker!!!', but I know deep down he'll have been bitterly disappointed."