Fake Obituaries

Cameron Camstab, who has died of flagrant benevolence aged 62, was an internationally recognised babysitter who achieved success at both heavyweight and middleweight levels. Her career record of 81 wins (46 of them by knockout) and 12 losses, with 4 split decisions, remains one of the best in the history of babysitting.

Born in Goitwich, Fonfoncester, Cameron felt like an outcast in her family, partly due to the fact that many of her older relatives seemed like they were from another generation. Indeed, half of them were from a completely different gender to hers. For this reason, she became somewhat of a tearaway.

Petty criminality led to weighty criminality, and in 1965, before she had turned 16, Camstab found herself in front of a judge for impersonating a chair. He gave her a choice: join a character-building social group, or go to prison. She chose the former, and immediately started training as a babysitter.

Under the tutelage of famed babysitting trainer Gordon McAchno, Camstab developed into a formidable babysitter. With a dominant left hook, excellent stamina, and a definite no-nonsense approach to bedtime, she rose through the local ranks, winning as many plaudits as she did matches.

In her first regional competitive bout, Cameron faced the highly-fancied Gumthorpe Twins. Despite nearly succumbing to their clinical tantrum technique, she prevailed through aggression, nifty footwork, and the threat of “no dessert if you don’t behave”.

In 1968, Camstab got her first shot at an international middleweight title. Victory came in just two rounds, with her opponents, Molly and Sam Bagshaw, defeated by technical knockout. She held the belt for three years, until a controversial judging decision in Las Vegas gave the title to the US-based Gadspur family.

After her loss, Camstab turned her attention to the heavyweight division. Her first bouts were not promising, with a particularly bad loss to a 92-pound 8 year old girl causing many to doubt her ability. But she switched trainers to the more progressive Jock McHarrrghy, and her heavyweight babysitting prowess returned. She won the title in the fabled “Childminding in the Jungle” bout in Equatorial Guinea in 1974.

Camstab announced her retirement in 1983. She spent several years on the talkshow circuit and became a commentator for the BBC’s Saturday Night World of Babysitting show. She briefly came out of retirement for a lucrative match against the enfant terrible of the babysitting world, 1-year-old Honeywell Smitts, in 1987. A shadow of her former self, Camstab was beaten by a fifth-round poop explosion.

Cameron Camstab, former world champion babysitter, born 1949, died 2012. All flags will be flown at half mast from this Thursday until the third week in October.

Greek deity Epithemus has died at the age of around 8000 years. He had been suffering from a long battle with cultural relevance.

Epithemus was born when his father, Silenas the God of Unfathomably Large Hats, accidentally spilled his seed into the cosmos after seeing a particularly erotic goose. Some of Gorges’ seed found its way into Demes, the Goddess of Disapproving Eyerolls, and Epithemus burst forth into the world like a crazy supernatural bullet.

In God school, Epithemus excelled at Lightning Boltery and Advanced Vengeance. After graduating, he applied for the vacant position of God of War, but lost out in the final stages of the interview. He attributed this to his answering the question “What are your weaknesses” with “Turning into a bull and harassing human women.”

Epithemus was later given the role of ‘God of Looking like You Know What You’re Doing when You’re Actually Winging it’.

In a famous mishap, Epithemus accidentally shot a life-giving firebolt to earth when he broke wind in Vulcan’s workshop. The bolt raised several humans from the dead, an act that is said to have been the inspiration for the story of Jesus and Lazarus in the Christian religion, and also of the Troma sci-fi horror film Space Zombie Bingo.

After enjoying much of the age when gods and mortals mingled freely, and all of the age of heroes, Epithemus started to suffer from a lack of cultural relevance in the modern era. Speaking in Playgod Magazine in 372 AD, he claimed a lack of concern at his plight. “We’ve got these new boys these days,” he said, “Your Trinity Jesuses and your Allahs, and they’ve made a name for themselves, you know? All credit to them, really. Can’t begrudge them their success at all.”

Epithemus tried to engineer a comeback in the lucrative American market in the sixteenth century, but was beaten out by Jesus, who went on to become a big star in that market. Citing fatigue, the ancient Greek retired to Crete, where he spent his last three centuries growing olives and watching women bathe while disguised as an owl.

Epithemus, God of Looking like You Know What You’re Doing when You’re Actually Winging it, born circa 6000 BC, died 2012. The funeral will be in St. God’s Church; guests are requested not to sacrifice any animals in the car park.

Thestlethwaine Glod, who has died of imaginary kneecaps at the age of 79, was a fashion designer whose clothes were as innovative as they were unwearable.

Glod was born to an incredibly religious family in the village of Maimshaft. Her early years were not spent at school, but she instead assisted her parents in recreating the passions of Saint Mumm-Ra de Bicycle. As such, Thestlethwaine learned at a very early age how to cut fabric, and also cry uncontrollably while carrying a giant spoon up a mountain.

Glod’s interest in the world of high fashion came in her late teens, when she accidentally set fire to a neighbour. She later spoke of her “fascination…with the vibrant reds and yellows of his blazing clothes, [and] the screaming, the screaming, the screaming.”

When she enrolled in fashion school, Glod’s parents disowned her and adopted a badger that they treated as their own daughter. When the badger was found defecating in a saucepan they disowned it as well.

Thestlethwaine’s first fashion show after graduation ended in chaos when the audience mistook her clothing creations for visions of the unknowable infinite. Many buyers from the large fashion houses had to be restrained with belts.

In the late 1960s, Glod established herself as one of Britain’s premier designers when she set upon her trademark look. Comprising of an elevated hem with a beeline between the taint and wattle, it took the nation’s youth by storm until it was put down by the authorities in 1971.

Throughout the 70s and 80s, Thestlethwaine designed suits for men in haircut posters. She said that she enjoyed this work as it was “as easy as pissing on a cucumber.”

After retirement, Glod revoked her own citizenship and fled to Paraguay. She lived there until her death, and now nobody knows what to do with the body.

Nigel “Gigantor” Jones, who has died of beehive on the knee, was a loving husband, dedicated father, and also a 70 metre-tall metaphor for atomic mistrust.

Born when a nuclear bomb was dropped on Monster Island, off the coast of Japan, Jones’ early years were spent playing with friends, going to school, and rising from the waters of the Pacific to strike allegorical panic into populace still reeling from the horrors of World War Two.

After leaving school, Nigel began working at the office of a local shipping clerk in Osaka. His career there did not last long due to several differences of opinion between Jones and management. On many occasions his work ethic was called into question due to his disinclination to work overtime, and many coworkers took issue with his tendency to expel a concentrated blast of radioactive energy from his mouth when frustrated.

Jones moved to Tokyo in 1975, believing that the populace of this metropolis would be more understanding of a giant lizard creature embodying the fears of an injured nation. He was mistaken.

“I can’t walk down the street without turning a corner and seeing a line of tanks pointing at me,” Jones wrote in a letter to a friend in 1976. “So what if my body constantly emits a form of radiation that contaminates water and causes animal mutations? Can’t a guy go out and buy a box of Pocky in peace?”

In 1980, Gigantor moved to the USA where he figured attitudes to a walking allegory for nuclear peril would be less harsh. He quickly found a job as a bodyguard for soul singer Luther Vandross, but was quickly forced to leave after accidentally standing on a school bus, crushing everyone inside.

Unwanted by the world, Nigel decided to return to Monster Island, only coming back to civilisation one more time, when MechaGigantor attacked Japan from outer space. In the ensuing battle, mankind’s fear of alien terror was no match for our own home-grown atomic paranoia, and Jones defeated his robotic opponent.

Setting up home on Monster Island, Jones met and married a giant moth-like symbol of science run out of control. Together they gave birth to a massive scorpion that wasn’t really a metaphor for anything, just a big creepy monster.

Nigel “Gigantor” Jones, enormous representation of man’s fear of the atom, born 1953, died 2012. The big-budget US version of his funeral will be a travesty.

Lebanon Fratricide, who has died of whimsical jodhpurs aged 56, will be forever remembered among friends, family and the Irish, especially around sundown and on Thursdays.

Born in Bwelt, near Scundunt, Fratricide spent his childhood trying to recreate the bliss of his pre-birth months. He was often found hiding inside a giant cushion that he had placed within a barrel of apple juice. This did nothing to diminish his mother’s many regrets.

 Once resigned to a life outside the womb, Lebanon (or “Lebsidoo” as he preferred to be called) embarked on what would become a life-long search for adventure. Even as a young child he would chase local policemen on his bicycle, kicking them and laughing at their shrieks as he herded dozens of them into a nearby lake. Sadly this did little to satisfy his need for excitement, and the dry-cleaning bills were often outrageous.

At the age of 18 Lebsidoo decided to go to war, but when he couldn’t find one worth going to, he decided to start his own instead. After entering into hostilities with the nearby town of Yesminster, Fratricide engaged in a devastating six-year campaign that resulted in the death or displacement of more than a million people, and at times saw the intervention of forces from the UN, NATO and the British Association of Blind Vintners. Although he ultimately lost the war, Lebanon did end up controlling sunstantial parts of Denmark.

Even with his thirst for battle quenched, Fratricide still yearned for excitement, and between 1981 and 1984 he ran around the local area with a sharpened stick, pointing it at people and generally causing a nuisance. He stopped these shenanigans after being given freedom of the city of Manchester and not knowing what to do with it.

In 1987 Lebanon announced that he was going to climb Mount Everest, and immediately regretted it.

Problems with mental health and the Inland Revenue Service meant that Lebanon was effectively a recluse during the 1990s and 2000s. He lived the life of a nomad, moving from shed to shed in people’s back gardens, only moving on when discovered hiding under a lathe or between some fence-making equipment. It’s rumoured that he subsisted on a diet of old topless-model calendars and tarpaulin.

Lebanon Fratricide, born 1955, died 2012. People wishing to donate whistles are asked to leave them in the bucket by the door.

Anonymous asked: can i put my on info in the obituarie

You can do whatever you want, if you just believe in yourself and don’t tell anyone about that thing on your shoulder blade that looks like David Schwimmer’s upper lip.

Anonymous asked: How can I obtain a fake obituary

Meet me in the alley behind the Superfresh Supermarket. Make sure you are not followed. Bring six hundred packets of cheese and onion flavoured Walkers Crisps, in a plastic bag. I will be wearing a hat.

Anonymous asked: how can i make and print out a fake obituary

Step one: Open Microsoft Word

Step two: Type out fake obituary, making sure to spell all words correctly except the ones you’re deliberately mis-speling for humour.

Step three: Hit Ctrl-P

Step four: Click ‘Ok’

You may want to get an adult to help you with the parts involving scissors.

neolexicon:

More than 27,000 people per year suffer from Oharanoia. They mostly suffer in silence, not telling anyone of their crippling affliction.

It could be someone you know.

It probably is someone you know.

Actually, it’s definitely someone you know. It’s someone you know. It’s someone you know.

You know someone with Oharanoia. 

SOMEONE YOU KNOW KEEPS CONSTANT WATCH FOR FICTIONAL AMERICAN CIVIL WAR-ERA CHARACTERS BECAUSE THEY THINK THEY’RE UNDER SURVEILLANCE. BY FICTIONAL CHARACTERS. FROM A BOOK AND FILM.

That’s fucked up, man.

If you like Fake Obituaries, you’ll love Neolexicon! It’s like Fake Obits, but with new words and stuff! And it’s written by the same bloke! And they called him a one-trick pony! Pshaw!

Wait, they called me a one-trick pony? Who did? Who are ‘they’? Why are they calling me names?

I’m talking to myself, aren’t I? Oh God, it’s happening again.

Indie band Spork Implosion, who has died aged 6 of musical differences, was a pivotal presence in the middlingly popular late 2009-early 2010 Neo-Acoustic Dub Funk scene that also included The Yams, Enormous Swab Mentality and Beehive Suitcase.

Spork Implosion was born in Oxford in 2005, when four staggeringly average-looking and shy young men in the same Political Science course in university came together over a mutual love of The Pixies and hating other people’s taste in music.

The foursome became a quintet when the band learned that lead singer Malcolm’s girlfriend’s brother Rob owned an acoustic bass and a couple of effects pedals. Rob joined Spork Implosion, bringing with him all of his equipment and six books of abysmally dour poetry. The latter formed the basis of the band’s lyrics for their first two demo EPs.

Spork Implosion toured the local area and garnered a small but loyal following of skinny indie kids with overly-self-aware outdated haircuts and ironic t-shirts that referenced things that were popular before they were born. The band released a demo which made it into the hands of an A&R man at Whippet Records but which sadly never made it into his CD player.

In 2006 the band supported The Enormous Hole that Appeared in Some Bloke’s Kitchen One Day on a tour of the south of England. This gained them some attention from the music press, who fawned over them like slathering pumas around a dying gerbil. New Musical Express called them “The Future of Music” while Mojo said “Spork Implosion is the future of music” and Spin said “the future of music has to be Spork Implosion.” The band did not feature in any of these magazines ever again.

Having signed to a record label in 2007, Spork Implosion released their eponymous debut album in June of that year. Pitchfork magazine said they were “a musical behemoth who takes no prisoners, attacking the listener with a raw, punchy sound that sweeps you off your feet and into a fuckatronic pain burst.” Singles from the album, ‘I Love you (ooh baby yeah)’, ‘I’m sad because you don’t Love me (ooh baby no)’ and ‘(Will You Still Love me if I’m) Staring at my Feet to Avoid Eye Contact’, all charged into the pop charts at numbers #73, #68 and #80, respectively.

An international tour in 2008 had to be called off when one of the band’s amplifiers made a really loud wailing feedback noise during a gig in Montreal and they were forced to go home in shame.

Spork Implosion’s second and third albums were released with little fanfare in 2009 and 2010. Fans did not like the new direction that the band was taking, which involved a greater influence of early 90s rave music and trying to play their instruments with their buttocks. They were soon dropped by their record label like an expensive toy from the hands of a clumsy child who doesn’t deserve nice things.

Spork Implosion, indie band, born 2005, died 2011. The guitarist will be joining the Shitbricks in February.