By our Weather Correspondent


Cardiff, Wales – Earlier today, local man Gareth Phillips was having trouble deciding as to whether the conditions outside warranted putting on a pair of faded jeans or his brand new cargo shorts.

“I took the time to examine the weather carefully,” he said, weighing up the jeans in one hand and the shorts in the other, “yet everything about the temperature and the clouds said that it’s gonna be humid but breezy.”

“How the fuck do you dress for that?” he complained.



A photographer’s attempt to recapture the moment seconds before the fateful choice was made.


Mr. Phillips is not alone in his struggle. A recent study showed that an estimated three million people regularly fall victim to the Welsh weather per year.

After much deliberation, and a quick rendition of ‘eeny-meeny-miney-mo’, Mr Phillips eventually settled on the cargo shorts, reasoning with himself that “they should be broken in whilst I have the chance”, and left his flat in Splott to do some shopping. He was halfway down Queen Street when he noticed that it had started picking to rain.

“I was caught, quite literally, with my trousers down,” shuddered Mr. Phillips, taking a sip from his hot chocolate. “It was all that I could think to do to dive into Ann Summers and wait for the storm to pass.”

“I spent the time wondering how cold the women in the pictures would be if they were here,” he confessed.

When approached, Republican Presidential Nominee Donald Trump said, “He should get some of my shorts. I have the best shorts, from the best short people in the world! You don’t get any better than my shorts, but I’m going to make him pay for them.”




I Have No Wings Yet I Must Fly

So, a couple of weeks ago, I started work on a new short story under the aforementioned title, ‘I Have No Wings Yet I Must Fly’. As a last minute decision, I decided to pitch the idea as my major project for my final year of university, and it was chosen! I didn’t see that coming, and had to throw a script together by the end of the week. The film itself will not be done until like May, although a ‘pilot’ of sorts will be completed in December. Until then, as a sort of preview to the production, and something that will inevitably go into the production folder to give it the illusion of professionalism that simply isn’t present with me, here is the beginning of the short story what I wrote, which I have since translated into a screenplay.

It’s up there, I can just about see it.

When I went in there, into the crooked mansion to see the old woman, I hadn’t really acknowledged it before. Sure, it’d always BEEN there, but there’s something about perception that can make it utterly invisible to the selective eye and the ignorant mind. Of course, it’s just a matter of having your priorities changed, at which point your eyes will open and the previously elusive will, poof! appear out of nowhere. I am having that sensation right now. I’m looking at the night sky.

More specifically, the North Star. Why should I care about that?

I work for a company which specialises in granting last wishes to the dying. Usually it’s pretty simple affair; do-good celebrities to contact or plane flights to book.

This case is not that simple.

I mean, I’m told that she was sound of mind when she wrote it down, the illness hadn’t taken that from her at that point, so where on earth did this request come from? Like, of all the things to want to take to the grave.

She wants to be buried with a piece of the North Star.

I’ve tried asking her about it but to no avail, when she isn’t comatose she tosses and turns as if she were under some tainted affliction of the mind. I have asked the family, all three of them, and they have been of no help. Not one, not the daughter, the son-in law, nor the brother can tell me where such an unusual request may have originated. They were kind enough to let me make use of their telescope, which I currently stare through towards the celestial body in question.

It’s quite the conundrum. I have a job to do, yet I cannot. I have no wings, yet I must fly.  I’m seemingly expected to soar through the galaxy and amongst the constellations, swoop around Orion’s Belt and ride the Big Dipper, before extending my hand and retrieving a slice, freshly cut, from the North Star.

So all I’d have to do is die of asphyxiation, decompression and burning. Simple. Where do I sign up?

My boss has been of like, literally no help. I called her earlier, and all she had to say was, “You have your assignment; see that it gets done.”

Cheers Boss; great job. I’ll be sure to send you the medical bills, as well as my notice of resignation.

I am reminded of the ancient story of Icarus, the boy who had wings. In a surge of overconfidence, he felt it necessary to show off just how capable he could be, to his own downfall. Upon straying too close to the sun, his wings melted and he fell.

Spoiler alert, he died horribly.

There have been no such instances of people with wings since then, yet something about this woman perplexes me. She cries out frequently for her slice of the star, in an almost natural, primal urge, as desperately as one might call out for water or sustenance. She means what she says, but does she know what she’s saying?

I’ve been given free lease of the house to look around as I please tonight. Every hour counts, the Doctors have given her until sunrise. This chance to see the North Star up close will be her last. The telescope is in the conservatory. A quick glance around the room reveals nothing else of particular interest, with the exception of the magazines. Articles on skincare, politics, celebrities, gardening, rambling, the kitchen sink, anything really.

With the notable exception of stargazing.

The telescope appears to be hers, but the interest is not. What is it about the brain that lays certain desires dormant, only to be unlocked in its final moments? Has the old woman ever expressed an interest towards the study of astronomy or the acquisition of what it entails?

According to the brother, not really.


Upon leaving the conservatory I find myself in the great hall. This building is one taken straight from the board game Cluedo. If I were to discover myself wandering through some secret passageway I wouldn’t be surprised. Point is, it’s an awful lot of ground to cover in one night. How many clues are to be found before my objective makes sense? And even then, how would it possibly be feasible?

Looking around the hallway, it has certainly become clear that I have my work cut out for me. Where on earth should I go next? Still, I have no time to dawdle, I will walk straight forward and see where it takes me.

I’ve never written anything like this before, so it is of course sod’s law that this is the project that ended up being chosen for my major project. However, I have had a lot of fun creating these ideas and writing this story, and am very keen, along with my team, to make and share the best story possible this upcoming December and May. Until then, thanks for reading!


By our Political Correspondent

Local parents in a small Islington playground were left baffled this morning as they found their children talking about a strange old man who’d glued himself stuck onto the park’s featured bouncy castle. Upon further inspection, they were alarmed to discover that the man was none other than the current head of the Labour Party; Mr Jeremy Corbyn.

“I’m staying right here, and there’s nothing you can do to change that!”, the Labour leader shouted, as he duct taped himself to the back wall.


The new Labour HQ?


The encounter led to a tense standoff as shouting parents and angry children laid siege to the castle. Yet despite being the lone occupant, an intense social media campaign by Mr Corbyn proved successful as the locals were driven back by the power of hashtags and likes.

Numerous complaints were sent in to the local council, who in turn released an official statement.

“Look, we’ve tried everything. Just the other week we took a vote as to whether he was allowed on it or not. Only 17% said yes, yet here he still is!”

“Fact is, we let him have a go the first place, and now he’s just dug his heels in.”

The local branch of Parks and Recreation made their own attempt to remove Mr Corbyn from the inflatable structure. The Weekly Rag caught up with one of their staff.

“I tried reasoning with him, but it’s a no go” she said, sadly. “He’s just going to give himself, his party, and the playground a bad name. ParkCon 2020 is not going to be impressed.”

Upon request, Jeremy Corbyn’s press team was unable step onto the bouncy castle to remove him, as in their own words it was “just too hopelessly overcrowded”.


Image taken from:


By Our Food Correspondent –

Local Subway* regulars were left stunned earlier this morning as a new customer, Ron Pratt, 46, suffered an intense nervous breakdown after having to answer the numerous questions at the counter.

“I knew something was wrong the moment I asked him which bread he wanted,” said Sarah Beckett, 19, a Sandwich Artist, “beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and he went as white as a Hearty Italian.”

“Don’t even ask how he looked when I asked what length he wanted,” she added.

The Weekly Rag caught up with Mr. Pratt in the emergency ward of the local hospital, where he was to be found recovering from his severe shock.

“I-I don’t get it,” he stammered. “Usually I just pick an item from the menu and it’s delivered to me; I didn’t expect to have to undergo a pop-quiz on meat and salad first. All of those choices by a judging barista, all those impatient people waiting and judging behind me and all of those in front laughing at me as I dawdle. I didn’t, I just didn’t know what to do. I’m not good in those types of situations.”

Here the recollection clearly became to vivid, so the interview had to be paused.

Upon finally selecting a six-inch, Italian, chicken tandoori sandwich, Pratt thought that his troubles were over, so he reacted with horror when Beckett asked if he wanted the sandwich “cheese and toasted.”

“Good grief, it’s like I was on Mastermind,” sobbed Pratt, “I just wanted to take my sandwich, and whatever dignity I had left, and get out of there.”

The cause of fifty thousand clueless customers a year.

Unfortunately for Mr. Pratt, he was out of luck, as his sandwich was removed from the toaster and put into the hands of the Subway Manager, Mr Jiggle.

“You should’ve seen the poor bastard!” said Jiggle, 57, “Last time I’ve seen a customer that distraught was when we accidentally fed someone the tuna. I asked him if he wanted any salad, so he just stared at me. After awhile, he took a deep breath and screamed, “GIVE ME EVERYTHING!”

“I may have gone a little overboard,” conceded Pratt, but my sandwich had just been taken further down the line and placed in front of another complete stranger, so then I was expected to try and get a read on his personality too.”

“I just wanted lunch,” he continued, sadly.

Stunned, Mr Jiggle put every ingredient of the salad onto the sandwich, and Pratt thought that he was in the clear.

“I thought, “I’ve done it! That’s it! My deliverance is at hand! But oh, he wasn’t done.” said Mr Pratt.

“Well, I mean, the sauce can make all of the difference in a sandwich,” said Mr Jiggle, “What did he expect? He had to be asked.”

It was at this point that Mr Pratt passed out and the ambulance had to be called.

“This sort of thing happens a lot,” said his doctor, “people not knowing quite how to order food at subway. Speaking as a former sandwich artist myself, it’s all rather depressing”.


*Eat Fresh


Image taken from:






By Our Doomsday Correspondent


Red alerts were flashing and sirens were blaring in NATO headquarters earlier this morning as unconfirmed reports flooded in that Russia had initiated a full invasion of Ukraine. An estimate of 60,000 troops crossed over the Russo-Ukrainian border into the Donetsk and Luhansk regions of the western-aligned country.

Ukrainian President Petro Poroshenko was quick to slam the move, denouncing it and naming it “nothing less than an open declaration of war”.

NATO diplomats desperately tried to make sense of the situation and found themselves frantically flying back and forth between Kiev and Moscow in order to prevent a potentially disastrous outcome. However, they were soon relieved to find that the entire affair had been a colossal misunderstanding.

“Donetsk region of Ukraine holds rare Pokémon,” explained Russian President Vladimir Putin. “Our troops merely walk in with phones; no guns or weapons to be seen.”

In response, US President Nominee Donald Trump replied, “This is just because the Russians want to one-up me and my Pokémon. I have the best Pokémon, brought in from Mexico. I have the very best, most beautiful team! They’re just trying to build a more beautiful roster than me and make the Ukrainians pay for it.”

Many leaders of NATO who initially denounced the move, such as anti-Russia hardliners like Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, took back their denouncements when they discovered that in a small town in Eastern Ukraine, an extremely rare type of Pokémon, Mewtwo, was to be found.


The first face of Pokéball Diplomacy?


“Honestly, that’s fair enough then,” agreed US President Barrack Obama. “Frankly, I’m a little upset that those Russian folks got to it first.”

By the early hours of this evening, the Russians, content with their capture, withdrew entirely from Eastern Ukraine. However, the Kremlin still refused to hand the Crimean Peninsula back over to the Ukrainians, stating that “Crimea has top-notch Pokémon facilities, far superior than inferior Western Pokémon gyms. Comrade Caterpie will use nothing less.”

This is just the latest in a series of international incidents thanks to Nintendo’s extremely popular new app, Pokémon GO! Since it’s release, North Korea has taken South Korea’s Bidoofs, a Pikachu was found in Taiwan, much to China’s annoyance, and First Contact with an alien society was thrown off when the ‘Blaargon’ disembarked the flying saucer and said, “Take me to your Gym Leader”.


And In Other News…

On the 23rd June 2016 the United Kingdom held a very important, nation shaping referendum. Upon entering the voting booth, the electorate found themselves answering as to whether they SHOULD or SHOULDN’T have to shoot themselves in the right foot.

Astoundingly, the SHOULD campaign won with a margin of 52%, which caused stock markets, especially those concentrating on footwear, to plummet.

“A result is a result I guess…OUCH!” said outgoing Prime Minister David Cameron in his resignation speech, shortly before new PM Theresa May hopped in to power.

“I voted SHOULD because I honestly didn’t think it could happen,” said local, confused man Gary Barnes, “I just wanted to stick it to the Conservatives, who seemed fond of their feet. Particularly those on the right”.

It remains to be seen how the new PM is going to manage the newly handicapped nation.


Images taken from:

Google Maps.




By Our Sports Correspondent


There was a great wailing and gnashing of teeth today as fan favourite team, ‘The God Squad’, lost a devastating game of 2-1 to Wales in the Euro 2016 football tournament. The following is the match report in full:

It started poorly for TGS when they were forced to start the match a man down because left-fielder, Noah, was unable to turn up to the stadium because ‘the tide was out’.

“Also it’s a bit silly that they don’t allow pets isn’t it? Why bother?” he reportedly said.

The usual substitute, Adam, was unable to replace Noah because he hadn’t brought his kit, or indeed any form of clothing other than a fig leaf.

Undeterred, the ten men, long beards and all, all filed out onto to the pitch to meet their Welsh counterparts. After the obligatory singing of the respective anthems, Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau and He’s Got The Whole World In His Hands (complete with the appropriate dance moves), the match began.


During a photo op, only the captain keeps his cool as the rest of the squad bickers over formation choices.


The God Squad got off to a good start after Moses, the centre forward, got a hold of the ball and began running rings around the Welsh team. He parted the sea of red shirts as he sprinted the full length of the pitch and scored a sensational goal within the first fifteen minutes. There was great merriment and jubilation amongst the fans in the stands, and the Pope himself is said to have punched a Russian hooligan in celebration.

However, things took an unfortunate turn shortly into the second half after centre fielder, Jesus, got possession just outside of the welsh box but took a knee shattering tackle before he could do anything with it. He was taken off the field on a stretcher. Miraculously, he reappeared on the pitch just three minutes later.

During the downtime, Bale managed to sneak in a goal past the God Squad keeper, Goliath, by cleverly distracting the Philistine giant with a rock sling, causing him to flinch, which brought the game back up to equal terms, proving that the day was still anybody’s.

It was at the 89th minute which spelled disaster for the God Squad, as fatefully, Abraham passed the ball to Judas Iscariot, who promptly spun around and scored a spectacular, disastrous own goal against Goliath, netting the Welsh team the victory in the final moments of the game.

The fans were quick to slam Iscariot’s play, and the hashtag “#ClassicJudas” appeared all over the ‘Twittersphere’.

Iscariot himself justified the move by saying, “I placed a bet that we’d lose 2-1. I’m thirty quid better off!”

In the post match interviews, the team manager Pontius Pilate simply said “I am washing my hands of the whole affair.”


Images taken from:





By our Entertainment Correspondent


The latest release from Disney,  a ‘gritty, realistic’ live action remake of the film ‘Tarzan’, has been universally panned by both critics and fans of the original film alike.

“Honestly, it was horrible,” shuddered one reviewer, “I wanted to know who this film was meant to be for. I watched it with my children, my husband, my parents, a few friends and my dog. We cried every time”.

“It’s bollocks really,” said long-time Disney enthusiast Richard Head, “There I was, sat down with my popcorn ready to enjoy a re-mastered classic, but ten minutes in and I had already turned it off in disgust. Now I have a bowl of popcorn just sat here doing bugger all.”

The controversy stems from a scene very early in the film. The sequence centres around a very young Tarzan visiting the zoo with his parents. Due to some wacky hijinks and an impromptu musical number, the boy finds himself falling into the gorilla pen. Before Kala, the ape and mother figure from the original has a chance to shine, she is promptly shot dead by Clayton, the zookeeper. The rest of the film allegedly focuses around the legal and ethical backlash of such actions, but upon questioning around, this newspaper was unable to find anybody who had stuck around the cinema long enough to confirm that.


God rest her soul.


The animal rights group PETA was quick to issue a statement. It read, “We’re vegan! Er, I mean, outraged!”

This controversy breaks a chain in contemporary Disney history, who have recently received a lot of positive feedback for its live action remakes centering on current themes. Some examples include Frozen: The War on Global Warming, Aladdin: The Return of Al ‘Qaeda, and Peter Pansexual.

Seemingly undeterred by the lack of success, the scriptwriter seemed optimistic on the franchise’s future.

“I already have plans for a spin-off series for Clayton,” he confided, “In the show we follow him as a dentist, who’s bored of suburban life. So, he travels to Africa to hunt some lions. No more spoilers though!”

And in other news…

Sources close to the British Monarchy are frantically denying reports that Prince Charles, tired of waiting in line for the throne, snapped earlier this week.

Rumours were leaked that a hostage situation had broken out when the Prince of Wales stole a number of the Queen’s corgis, broke out into The Lion King’s “Oh I just can’t wait to be King” and locked himself into a wardrobe.

“Fuck you Roger,” he’s alleged to have screamed at his Butler, “I just found Narnia, maybe they’ll let me be King!”

Aslan was unavailable for comment.

Before heading to press, The Weekly Rag was unable to confirm whether or not Tibbles, Hanky-Panky, Mister Fluffy and Selena Gomez had yet been released in one piece.


Image taken from Disney’s animated feature ‘Tarzan’