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| REJUVENATED FRANK PROUDLY SHOWS OFF NEW BUSINESS TO "GOLDEN TICKET" HOLDERS |
| Former East End car salesman and dodgy geezer Francis Butcher yesterday proudly showed off his brand new business, a London chocolate factory, to several lucky choccie fans. Dressed fashionably in a red top hat and purple tuxedo, Frank took a group of kids and their parents around Butcher's Chocolates, all of whom first had to find a lucky "golden ticket" in one of Frank's patented Pilchard Bars. The fortunate group were able to gain first sight of many amazing concoctions Frank has conjured up in his time away from the spotlight, since quitting his high-profile Frank's Autos car lot, located in Walford, east London. |
| Included in the fun day out was a very special boat trip, in which Frank gave all the kids LSD and then freaked them out by talking really fast, as they floated around on a river of blood. This came at no extra cost, as generous Frank told stories of his days creating the many delicious chocolates he produces, and of his many failed relationships. Some noted that Frank seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown and at one point wailed "PAT!! PAT!!" but was soon soothed by the taste of his own chocolate. |
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| DISCLAIMER: Any similiarity between this story and that of Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or its accompanying film Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory is unintended and entirely coincidental. |
| One curious attraction came in the form of an orange skinned midget, with bright green hair, referred to by Frank as a Rhysaloompah. The Rhysaloompah was happy to pose for us, holding a sausage as a pretend penis, in a humourous mickey take of Frank's surname. We asked the Rhysaloompah what it was like to work for Frank and he replied "Rhys-a-loompah, doopity dee, working here is proper bo', I tell thee. Rhys-a-loompah, doopity doo, II've got a lovely sausage for you". When we asked him to repeat himself, he bellowed, "YOU HEARD!" It appears as though the Rhysaloompah, and his many fellow Loompahs, are nothing more than slave labourers, who answer to Frank's beck and call, as throughout the day Frank would click his fingers and several of the toxic-skinned midgets would emerge from the shadows. The Daily Bridgend proposes an investigation into working conditions at the factory, as we feel orange skin is quite unnatural and indicates a less than healthy working environment. |
| We at the Daily Bridgend were lucky enough to get a brief interview with Mr. Butcher as he said his goodbyes to the surviving members of the touring party. We seemed to catch him in a reflective mood as he recalled his past and looked forward to a bright future as Cadbury's main rival. We asked him about his unusual attire to which he replied "I like to have fun, you pilchard. I'd rather add life to my years than years to my life. If you don't stop asking stupid questions, I'm gonna come over there and give you a dry slap now, sunshine." We asked him about his marriage to famous East end prostitute turned cleaner, Pat Evans. The response was surprising. Frank stripped absolutely naked, barring his dicky bow, which began to twirl around. He then started crying and stepped into an elevator which, somehow, then flew off to the moon. |