Is this the end of the boozing culture for footballers?

Tottenham Hotspur manager Harry Redknapp hit the club's players with a massive bombshell today, announcing that from next season everybody will observe a ban on alcohol.

"These overpaid fuckers will 'ave to learn their lesson" states the former Portsmouth and Southampton boss. He went on to say that "When we were playing, we were in bed by 8pm the night before a game. The rest of the week during the season, we'd drink nothing stronger than a cup of Earl Grey. A night out for us was a game of dominoes at the British Legion." Redknapp flashed an indignant look at the group of journalists sniggering ironically in the background.

"The players must face the fact that they're very well paid and have to lead by example. This will be made abundantly clear to them at the club's end-of-season bash at the Dorchester tonight" which is said to be a £1,000 a head celebration of retaining their Premier League status. The champagne was being delivered by Eddie Stobart as this goes to press.

Questioned as to whether or not the club would be imposing a ban on brown envelopes, Redknapp refused to be drawn on the matter.

Analogue Snitch sought to guage the opinion of other coaches, wishing to see if this alcohol ban could spread. Plymouth manager Paul Sturrock was of the opinion that "it'll be the fuckin' death knell for this game ... yooor mah best pal y'ar!" He was then violently sick in a bucket.

BBC set to axe 90 news workers

The BBC came in for fresh controversy today, after announcing that the jobs of 90 workers at BBC News would go next year.

The corporation however came out fighting last night, looking to justify this economy drive. "We have to stem this corporate wastefulness at what is a very difficult time economically. Tough decisions need to be made. We look around us, seeking to establish which positions are expendable because of their inefficiency and which are just too important to let go" opined Mr Friedrich Freeloader, head of paperclips.

He went on to state that "adequate resources will be allocated to the News Channel to ensure that it continues to enjoy its reputation for high quality, impartial news coverage throughout the globe. I can categorically state that standards will never be allowed to slide."

The announcement coincides with a press release introducing the News Channel's new evening anchor, Timmy Mallett (above), who takes up his position in October.

The Apprentice - winner's project revealed!

In a shocking new development, we can reveal that Sir Alan Sugar has already decided upon the business project to which this year's winner of The Apprentice will be assigned.

Analogue Snitch can exclusively show the new business and its premises, a whelk stall in the heart of the City of London. "Let's be frank" stated Sir Alan. "This bloody lot are only fit to run a fucking whelk stall, so that's all they're gettin'. If they show any acumen, I might let the person loose with a hot dog stand in Leicester Square in a prime pitch."

Contestant Ben Clarke said of the development: "I look forward to the challenge that awaits me, after ascending to my rightful place at the top of the pile. I was offered a scholarship to Sandhurst you know!"

Fellow contestant James McQuillan's response to the latest news was: "... wot?"

Kate Walsh and Philip Taylor meanwhile are adamant that they are not staging a fake romance to secure greater media coverage. "At the end of the day" said Taylor, "any woman knows she'd be nothing without me - I'm the new Bill Gates. My time on the show was maybe a bit chequered, but off screen I'm 'Pants Man' where it counts. By the way, what's the going rate for a four-page exclusive? I can throw in some mpeg footage - know what I mean!"

BGT: new contender emerges.

Britain's Got Talent heats up, as a new kid on the block emerged last night.

Michael Cabbage - who prefers the stage name Savoy - stunned two passers by in Enfield High Street with a rendition of Tomorrow, from the hit musical that nobody likes, Annie.

Savoy, born with spina bifida, epilepsy, Bells palsy and halitosis, was out shopping for fresh incontinence pants with support worker Terry, when by an astonishing coincidence a theatrical agent, two producers, a camera operator and a sound engineer stumbled upon the teen sensation.

"He only had to dribble the first line of the Les Miserables song What Have I Done? and we knew a star was born." stated Richard Mountebank from talent agency spasmos, dorks and brats Ltd.

The dribbling sensation was emphatic in his desire not to trade on his personal tragedy, available to read in a twelve page pdf download if required. Dropped on his head at birth, he later witnessed his parents die in a stampede after divulging that they were infected with flu. Further heartache followed, as his sister (christened Red) met an unfortunate end fixing the family toaster with a butter knife.

Cole Slaw, the uncle who raised Savoy after these events offered plaudits for his courage and determination. "Lesser kids would have buckled under" he said, tears welling up. "All he wants in life is the chance to be stood on that stage, clutching a large picture of his dead family. Is it too much to ask?"

Plans are already afoot to cast Savoy in BBC soap Eastenders, playing the role of Richard Head, Heather Trott's new fiancee. "He expects it to be a challenging role" assured his uncle, "but one that he should consumately live down to."

For whom the bell end tolls ...

Complaints have flooded in as viewers are poised for the most shocking soap storyline since Eastenders 'Big Mo' Slater copped off with that baldy bloke with the grandson, Jay.

In what is a pre-watershed slot, viewers will see Dev Alahan (Jimmy Harkishin) displayed naked on billboards around Weatherfield, as revenge by scorned lover Tara Mandal (pictured). One viewer Mrs Dorris Morris from Cheadle Hulme said: "Ooh my giddy aunt! My Yorkshire Terrier will go into meltdown. And as for my pussy ..."

The scene acts as a forerunner for an upcoming storyline involving Blanch, Norris and a rechargeable massager ... or at least that's what Blanche assumes it to be.

Pressed on whether or not there was any truth in the suggestion that Betty Turpin would quit The Rovers to open an S & M dungeon next to Roy's Rolls, producers stated categorically that this was dependent on whether or not Keira Knightly could be signed-up to play the part of the whip.

The Apprentice: another reality TV hoax?

Another reality TV scandal appeared ready to erupt yesterday, as Apprentice contender Lorraine Tighe was suspected of being an imposter.

Tighe (right), 32, who models for War On Want, is believed to be an alias for BBC political correspondent Nick Robinson (left).

When presented with these allegations, Mr Robinson was apparently unavailable for comment and had been all week.

Noorul Choudhury, last weeks exiting contestant seemed unsurprised when presented with these claims: "Let's face it" he said. "You never see the two of them on the BBC at the same time, do you."

Jack Tweed prison diary exclusive!

Sources close to grieving prisoner Jack Tweed have supplied Analogue Snitch with what appears to be his prison diary. A harrowing picture emerges.

April 24th: Dwayne is frisky today. I told him them steroids were bad for him. He told me to close my eyes and I'd get a big surprise. I told him if it's the same as last night after lockdown, I'm still not walking straight. He said it wasn't that, so I thought I'd let him have his way. When I opened them, my Rolex was gone.

April 25th: Pervy Peter from D wing lent me his mobile. Can never concentrate when using it. It always smells funny.

April 26th: Too many of these inmates are negative. Max Clifford always taught me how you can do anything you want if you believe you can, whether it's poncing, going on the lash or beating people up. This lot are different though - no self-belief. Everywhere I go, I hear them shout: "can't can't can't ..." sounds like that anyway.

April 27th: Big Baz the wing drugs baron was on my case today in the showers. Bastard was stood there in front of me wanking away. Worst part of it was that he was using my fucking hand!

April 28th: Queer Colin was up before the Parole Board today. One of the panel asked him if he believed that he could kill a man. He said: "Ooohhh ... eventually."

April 29th: Got my Rolex back. I had to pay a high price though. Big Baz gets first pop at Jackiey when he's released. I'm not sure he realises what he's letting himself in for.

April 30th: Got myself a Cadburys Cream Egg from the shop. It all proved too much for me. I had to tell the photographers to take their pictures quickly and give me a chance to compose myself afterwards.

May 1st: Am making a gravestone in the prison workshop. Inscribed on it is the Goody family motto: you may not be able to squeeze blood out of a stone, but you can get plenty of cash out of one.

May 2nd: Max has stopped taking my calls. Seems strange really. Seeing as I was married to someone nicknamed 'The Pig,' I'd only have to complain of a sniffle and Max could get the press to put two and two together and it's more wonga for the old sky rocket.

The Howard League for Penal Reform has expressed concern at Tweed's incarceration, as few criminals appear more penal than him.

Coming this week: "Keira Knightly stole my dinner!"

Analogue Snitch doom special!

How to deal with the threat of annihilation from viral nasties:

• Keep away from large congregations, such as public transport and cinemas
• Lock yourself away and throw away the key
• Arrange for somebody to paint a black cross on your street door
• Keep supplies of petrol at hand
• Incinerate all deceased relatives

Dr Ophelia Balls, chief medical officer for the Gala Bingo, Cleethorpes has this advice:

"Ordinarily, I would counsel against any panic, but seeing as we all have only days to live, I suggest you run like the wind ... we're all gonna die!!!"

The Health ministry, in conjunction with Domino's Pizza has initiated a food supply scheme for infected people in their death throes to reduce infection risk. "It is vital at this time that we feed patients efficiently and safely" stated Sir Julian Calendar, permanent secretary at the Department of Hysteria. Asked why they were specifically being supplied with pizzas, Sir Julian replied that "it's the only thing we can get under the fucking door."

This publication will return with updates, if we are still alive tomorrow.

Flu pandemic: will stockpiles be sufficient?

The first two people in Britain to be diagnosed with swine flu were reported to be ‘teetering on the brink,’ according to their publicist Max Clifford.

Newlyweds Michael and Martina Mammon, from Kircaldy in Fife, returned at the Weekend from Cancun, with symptoms classified as ‘a bit of a cold.’ Having heard of reports concerning the deadly Mexican-based infection, the Mammons soon developed symptoms known as Cash Fever, or Avarice Vulgaris to give it its full medical name. Soon they obtained a referral to the most eminent specialist in the land, Mr Max Clifford, famed for his ability to cure people of fiscal deficiency.
His reassuring advice was:

• Don’t take less than £20,000
• Don’t open your mouth without me there
• Er, that’s it.

Mr Clifford’s latest statement claims that the Mammons “hover this side of the gates of St. Peter by the slenderest of threads.” It gave no mention of why the couple were observed through their living room window dancing, whilst clutching champagne bottles.

Widespread panic is gathering all over the UK now, as fears grow of insufficient stockpiles of the most popular treatment for this malaise. A Government spokesman emphatically denied this, assuring the public that “every step is being taken to ensure that adequate supplies of cash are available for the treatment of those suffering from fiscal deficiency. “

Symptoms to look out for are a general emptiness, frenzied delirium and a visible loss of backbone. The absorption of moral fibre, combined with avoidance of newspapers is still the best treatment for the malaise.

Poetry without Motion.

The literary world was left reeling today from the shock announcement of Britain's new Poet Laureate, Carol Anne Duffy. The 53 year-old Glaswegian was believed to have fought off stiff competition from such luminaries as Richard Stilgoe and Pam Ayres for the coveted position, which carries with it a stipend of 21 groats and first pick from the annual New Forest wild boar cull.

Few doubt that her appointment will mark a strong movement away from traditional establishment figures who have filled the position. Openly lesbian and somewhat lukewarm to the idea of royalty, her poems seem at odds with her new found remit. The poem Betty and Zorba can bite my arse appears on the surface to be somewhat contemptuous of the sovereign, but supporters state this to be a misinterpretation of her works.

Critics have already sharpened their knives, not least Mr Roland Gushpisser of the Campaign for Linguistic Importance in Tertiary Education, or CLIT for short. "This is yet another nail in the coffin for traditional literary standards" insisted Mr Gushpisser. He cited her verse Into The Ether as an example of what he claims to be a "stupendously pretentious" style of writing:

Into the ether, that is where we are headed, except for the orchid in cold weather bedded, Scream child, scream! The passage is lost; the bed is sullied from God's permafrost.
"What the fuck's that all about? For crying out loud ...!"

Dame Fenella Cholmondley, chairing the panel charged with appointing a new Laureate, seemed bemused by the criticism. "Frankly my dear" she stated, in a vaguely inebriated manner "we felt very much that we needed someone with a contemporary edge, who possessed the sort of 'youth credibility' that would put poetry on the map for a whole new generation. Her singing will bring a less stuffy quality to the job. I see no reason why all poetry cannot be musical."

When it was brought to her attention that the new Poet Laureate was not known for her singing prowess, Dame fenella replied in a somewhat horrified tone: "you mean she isn't the Duffy who did the Coca Cola advert recently? Christ on a bike ..."

Duffy's latest compilation: Lesbian Love On Toilet Walls is available next Monday in a limited edition print run, both copies being personally signed.

Tweed 'terrified' by Boy George in jail

Altruist, raconteur and widower of the nation's queen of hearts Jack Tweed was reportedly terrified of bumping into Boy George while sharing the same shower room this week. Tweed (pictured on holiday in the USA last year) was heard to say: "I ain't gettin' in the shower wiv' that fucking bender!" Articulate to the end, the great man continued: "Winston (Tweed's cellmate) would go fucking mental if he sees George around me. I'm his bitch and nobody elses. It's bad enough sharin' wiv' 'im! That reminds me ... I've gotta get to the prison shop and get some Listerine ... fucking need it in this place! Better get a rubber ring while I'm at it."

Sources close to the prison administration refute claims that Tweed has been receiving preferential treatment while inside. One was willing to go on record as saying that "the kedgeree breakfast, lobster thermidore at Lunchtime and scallops at Dinner are "thoroughly normal fare at this prison."

The source was equally dismissive of claims that his incarceration had become a media circus. "This has all come about because of a misunderstanding. Tweed was put to work in the prison kitchen. He asked if he could gain access to a mincer and suddenly an OK! Magazine journalist was summoned. It was all a silly accident."

Tweed is due for release any time in the next ten minutes.

Jade's mum in take off drama.

Tragic mum Jackiey Budden (pictured), 75, suffered a harrowing strip search today after joking of possessing a weapon at Gatwick Airport. Desperate to provide some relief from her grief at the loss of Britain's Queen of Hearts, Jade Goody, the nation's new Queen Mother jested that she was "well armed," devoid of any irony at such a statement.

"All I fucking said to the tart on the plane was just a silly throwaway remark about a Kalashnikov, four grenades and a Chieftain tank. What sort of jobsworth would wanna make some'fing outta that? Before I knew it, she 'ad me fucking clobber orf, and was doin' 'fings to me that I didn't even let punters do when I was on the game. Is there a fee for this?"

The plane was allowed to take off after a delay, with Budden eager to return to her humble roots, with what she described as a 'cheap and cheerful' break at the Villa del Boytrotter. The humble abode offers simple cuisine such as lobster, turbot, fillet mignon and venison, all cooked by celebrity chef Jean Christonabike. Having got wind of the area's celebrity arrival, one local, Sid Hawkins 56, originally from Dagenham said: "Fuck me - we fled Britain to get away from cunts like this. You 'aven't seen any Old Bill around 'ave you?"

Reports connecting Budden with former Big Brother housemate Rex Newmark have been strenuously denied by a friend of the family.

HM Airport Security Officers.

Swine flu: harrowing drama for Chantelle and Chanelle!!!

Chanelle Hayes and Chantelle Houghton were embroiled in a desperate life or death drama yesterday, after going for a bacon sandwich.

Sources close to the Daily Star favourites stated that with all the hubbub surrounding Mexican pig flu, there is genuine concern that they may have just days to live.

"Let's face it" said Sebastian Spiv, an unofficial spokesman for Britain's favourite beauties "we just don't know where the bacon comes from around here ... it could be from Mexico, so the concern is legitimate. We are mounting a round-the-clock vigil at Chinawhites at the moment. Any sign of irregularity, and we'll be on the phone to Max Clifford - sorry, emergency services - immediately."

Other old Daily Star favourite Ziggy Lichman meanwhile has been seen lunching at London's Ivy Restaurant with Susan Boyle. Asked if wedding bells were on the cards, Lichman replied enigmatically after a momentary grimace that "we'll just have to see how things develop. But she's a beautiful woman, so these are exciting times." He then left via a back exit in his car with the personalised plate of G1 G0L0. Boyle boarded a 28 bus.

How long before Chantelle and Chanelle get to sizzle again?

Stephen Fry damns Norwich City defeat

In an unprecedented outburst, Stephen Fry has gone on record as being 'inconsolable' at the demise of his beloved Norwich City Football Club.

Recent entries on Twitter could be seen to say: "what was that cunt Doherty thinking of? Useless Mick bastard!" Another entry, focusing on the team's midfield inadequacies stated: "fucking Clingan - sounds like something from Star Trek. Plays like it too!"

The star was not slow to slate the club's facilities off the pitch as well: "there was a time when a working man could get himself a decent chateaubriand, with a 1963 Beaujolais, a fine Havana cigar and still have change from two hundred quid." He then went on to criticise the quality of the club's catering: "Delia fucking Smith - drunken old cow! Couldn't cook a two-week old dog turd."

A Sunday Times journalist recently questioned him about his affiliations, suggesting that his 'love of soccer' was little more than an attempt at getting some street cred. "Not a bit of it old boy" he replied. "If you were to see me at the last home game, when that dark chappy put the ball down near the flag and kicked it towards the opposition's keeper, well, you'd have seen passion at its ultimate. What do they call that ... is it a line out? Awfully entertaining." He lamented the fact that his beloved club will not be facing Ipswich Town next season: "the one high point this season, was being able to take on The Tractor Boys in the South Stand. Got them good and proper we did, just outside The Lamb & Ferret pub. One lad looked as though he had The Devil's eyes. I took such pleasure in inflicting a Chinese burn on him whilst four of our lads held him. Okay, he was only twelve, but he was a bloody big twelve!"

His new play: 'You're goin' Down Sunshine!' co-starring Ray Winstone about serial hooligans can be seen around the UK from June 1st.

Dear Anna ...

Let our regular agony aunt Anna Fagburn pour oil on troubled waters.

Dear Anna,

I am a 35 year old police officer and have developed a complex about my appearance. I frequently seek to work undercover, but friends and colleagues undermine me by laughing at what they see as my conspicuousness. I even went undercover at the G20 protests, looking to gather intelligence and was convinced I had blended in completely. I was nearly kicked to death.

Please tell me, where am I going wrong? Should I consider cosmetic surgery?

Anna replies:

Ordinarily I would counsel against the perils of self-mutilation, but given the circumstances, I would have to concede that on this occasion it is justified. Whilst surgeons cannot perform miracles, they can do much to soften some of your features, allowing you more of an ability to blend in. You will still be easily recognisable, but at least in a manner in keeping with your position. Would you see yourself as a failure if abandoning undercover work? I hope not. You are the officer your community has been waiting for. Have you considered a career in wheel clamping? It would be a great opportunity to work in an environment where you would gain an instant sense of belonging.

Dear Anna,

Recently I have had the most terrible nightmares. After taking to my bed, I am waking up in a cold sweat, after dreaming that I have a Boyle on my cock. I am at my wits end.

Anna replies:

I have read many reports of what seems to be a very recent phenomenon. The remedy - whilst drastic - has a high success rate. It is recommended that you desist from using You Tube for several weeks, as well as ITV1 on Saturday Nights until Britain's Got Talent comes to its conclusion. This Boyle, though harmless, instils considerable fear upon exposure. Contagion levels however are very high, with a pandemic seemingly imminent, so one cannot over emphasize the need for caution. Practitioners in the field suggest that focusing on something less traumatic, such as wars or natural disasters will successfully banish the symptoms. In any event it will disappear quickly in a few weeks.

It's anal, it's a log - it's gotta be shit!

Welcome to the great journey that is Analogue Snitch.

It is my hope that this fine organ can and will contribute to the world of media and showbiz in the way that Jack Tweed contributes to the nation's intellectual reservoir.

If there is worthwhile news or comment in connection with TV, radio, music, tiddlywinks or filth-laden bestiality, this publication will be looking to bring it to you.

We are fortunate here at Analogue Towers in having a range of guest contributors, fresh from our sister organisation Positive Opportunities, or as they are otherwise known Job Centre Plus. They will strive to keep you updated on all manner of burning issues, such as Lily Allen's thoughts on monetary reduction and Susan Boyle's style tips.

My personal assistant Ms Norma Stitz will help to bring an international perspective to proceedings, possessing an intimate knowledge of hotel rooms of the world, combined with extensive culinary expertise. She mentioned only yesterday how she laid on a spit roast for two Manchester United Footballers after their Champions League victory last week. Her memoirs: Hard Day at the Orifice - confessions of a PR girl are available soon from all good booksellers and WH Smiths.

If the words tongue and cheek are writ large in your mind, you may enjoy this lofty tome. If the words tits or tossers are, then I suggest you do a Google search for Jordan and Peter Andre.

If you seek dryly authentic news copy, then I suggest you jump to the BBC's excellent site for such material. If you wish to be entertained by items as authentic as Rupert Everett's face, then stick with us.

Happy reading!