Don't Give Up

When you look up at the top of a stunning waterfall and catch yourself thinking, "That would be a good place to jump from".

When you're slicing bread and you realise how easy it would be to open your wrists.

When you take a walk along the waterfront on a stormy day, with the salty wind whipping your hair while the surf hurls itself against the seawall, and you idly wonder if they'd ever find your body.

When you're terrified to be left alone in the house in case of what you might do to yourself.

Don't be too afraid to ask for help.

Airline Price War Escalates

In the latest twist to the price war between rival low-cost airlines, EasyJet has announced that passengers will henceforth be asked to fly the aircraft themselves.

This is seen by many as a response to RyanAir's cost-cutting plans to make passengers carry on their own luggage, on top of paying to use the toilet and sick bags.

Market analyst Paul Madeupname said, "This is a response to RyanAir's cost-cutting plans to make passengers carry on their own luggage, on top of paying to use the toilet and sick bags.

"Airline pilots earn significantly more than baggage handlers, so cutting them out of the equation should save the airline hundreds of pounds."

EasyJet boss Stelios Haji-Ioannou explained, "We've seen in the movies time and time again that when one or both pilots are incapacitated by food poisoning, terrorists or motherfucking snakes, there is always someone on board with no flying experience whatsoever who is able to land the plane safely, albeit with help from a retired alcoholic Air Force pilot drafted in to the control tower and sobered up with strong black coffee. This is simply extending that principle to cover takeoff and cruising, where an autopilot does most of the work anyway.

"Of course this begs the question of who is going to shag the stewardesses, but I'm sure our male passengers will be glad to fill the gap, as it were."

RyanAir is expected to confirm in the next few days that it will retaliate by requesting passengers to bring their own allocation of airplane fuel to the airport with them. And pay to have it checked in.

British Airways has denied suggestions that it plans to remove all the seats from its 2000-strong fleet and pack the passengers in like sardines "until August at the earliest".

Air France is said to be reviewing its own procedures after hitting "teething troubles" with a similar policy to EasyJet's this week, where passengers were offered the chance to "have a go" at the controls for $50 per 20 minutes while the pilots slept off a hangover.

St Jade of Bermondsey

Idea for a Viz-style cartoon strip to be published shortly after the highly publicised death of reality tv sleb Jade Goody Tweed. Or possibly before. Meh.

On arriving in Purgatory, Jade is told by St Peter that they can't decide whether she should be sent to Heaven or Hell. On the one hand, she's a well-known racialist, having insulted Shilpa Shetty on Sleb Big Brother, but on the other, her televised battle for survival has raised wareness [sic] of the need for young women to get themselves screened for cervical cancer.

Eventually St Peter makes up his mind and clips a pair of wings onto Jade's back, telling her that even though she's not from East Angular, he's decided to make her an angel and allow her to sit up with the baby Jesus and that. But he warns her to watch her language or she'll be evicted from Heaven.

Up she flies through the Pearly Gates and lands between St Diana and Mother Theresa. Baby Jesus is there with a halo and beard. Yeah. After sitting playing harps, chatting and such, they feel a bit peckish, so they pick up a menu and phone the Heavenly takeaway. St Diana orders the roast unicorn, Mother Theresa only wants chick pea soup (which arrives with real baby chicks swimming in it) and Jade settles on the Passenger Pigeon and chips.

Just then, Jade spots Mahatma Ghandi fasting in the corner and asks, "Who ordered the Indian?"

At this point, her wings abruptly fall off and she plummets through the clouds and down into Hell. Landing with a splash, she finds herself waist deep in lava, flanked by Saddam Hussein and Margaret Thatcher ¹, whilst demons prod her with burning pitchforks. Glumly, she starts picking at a plate of food before her.

Reader's voice: What are you eating now, Jade?

Jade: Rats' cocks.

¹ Still alive at time of writing, but I can wish, can't I?