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.