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!