Hairy bikers admit cookery a front for drug and gun trafficking

JOVIAL television bike gang members David Myers and Simon King have confessed to extensive criminal activities after multiple shootings at the recording of their latest series.

Violence erupted at the filming of the popular BBC show Mums Know Best when six members of the Death’s Head Moths motorcycle gang rode into the marquee where a crumpet-making competition hosted by Myers and King was reaching its culmination.

The rival bikers opened fire with automatic weapons, seriously injuring nine middle-aged women and prompting King to retaliate with a sawn-off shotgun.

Although Myers and King are best known as the upbeat, pie-loving Hairy Bikers, it has since been revealed that they simultaneously operated in the motorcycle underworld under aliases including Graves and Barger, The Motherfuckers and Skull Brothers.

Geordie Simon King said: “The cookery thing started after we found that the best way to transport cocaine, pistols and stolen pharmaceuticals around the country was by baking them into pies.

“We’d strap stacks of them to our bikes, and if we got pulled by the police we’d simply hand them the top pie, known as ‘the empty’ because it didn’t have any drugs in.

“When the television stuff kicked off, it became the perfect front for increasingly large-scale criminal operations. On the last series of Mums Know Best we had ‘mini-haggises’ that were actually grenades, and chicken thighs stuffed full of dexedrine.

“But when innocent people started dying it all had to come to an end, because we bikers – although ruthless if crossed – live by a strict code of honour.”

He added: “Why aye man.”

 

 

Your problems solved, with Holly Harper

Dear Holly,

The Archbishop of Canterbury got it right
in his speech this year when he said “everyone in the UK is a total
arsehole”. Assuming he means me too, I’ve decided to cleanse my soul by
giving all my Christmas presents to charity, with the exception of the
Kindle. And the iPhone. And the Nike trainers.  Fuck it, I’ve changed my
mind. I’ll keep the lot and take my chances in hell. What’s it like
down there? 

Dear Graeme,

Hell
is where Satan lives. Satan is God’s ex-wife. They don’t
talk to each other any more, except when God comes to pick up the
kids. I’m not sure where Hell is, exactly, but it’s hot there so maybe
near Spain? Or possibly it’s my Auntie Lynn’s house because we went
there for Christmas day and I heard my daddy telling mummy it was “Hell
on Earth” because he only got one glass of wine at dinner. He also said
that Auntie Lynn was “a self-righteous cow who knows nothing of
politics” and my mummy said “she needs to rethink her curtains”. I know
this because I wrote it all down and I’ll tell her all about it in my
thank you card. If hell is my Auntie Lynn’s house then it’s not so bad,
just make sure you call shotgun on the camp bed first because if you
have to share with cousin Peter you’ll be soaked in wee by 2am.