Dear Viz, and a Widdy vote

Dear Viz

I done a letter!

Dear Viz,

I've got a foolproof plan to win the top prize on the national lottery. If I won the cash, I'd use the money to get Stephen Hawking to invent a time machine, go back in time and give myself the winning numbers, so I'd have the money to invent the time machine so that I could go back in time to give myself the winning numbers.

Then I could go back in time and kidnap Stephen Hawking before he ends up in a wheelchair, and threaten to put him in a wheelchair unless he can invent a time machine for me. Then, I'd be able to go back in time to give myself the winning numbers on the national lottery, so that I've got enough money to invent a time machine and go back in time to kidnap Stephen Hawking and build myself a time machine so I can win the lottery. Nothing can go wrong. I think.

I am not mad.

Yours

S. Duck, Ecuador


However, while I remain a pauper, I suppose I had better continue with this Dangermouse-free weblog and put forward five Scary Tales of Mirth and Woe for you lot to choose from.

Vote, then, in a Widdy special for:

Take a Break: "Put two dozen cameras in a house, and Channel Four call it Big Brother. Put one tiny camera in Ann Noreen Widdecombe's bathroom, and I get an ASBO. Where's the justice?"*

Conk: As the kangaroo brutally thrust its load home for the final time, Ann Noreen Widdecombe finally found her voice: "I'm a celebrity - get me out of here!" But Ant and Dec were nowhere to be seen.

Road Rage: It had all been so, so beautiful. But one thing haunted Ann Noreen Widdecombe. Why had Heather "Stumpy" Mills gone for her on the rebound?

Graffiti: "I'm sorry", said the theatrical agent to Ann Noreen Widdecombe, "but you'll have to come down now. It's damn impressive, but there's just no call in the business for an act that can stick herself to the ceiling by the suction power of her minge."

Kendo's Barbie of Woe: At last, Anne Noreen Widdecombe had found her true vocation in the world of end-of-the-pier all-in wrestling. Not only did she get her own leotard, but the baby oil allowance was the best in the business

A free sick bucket to every tenth voter!

* This gag stolen from Viz. Fair swap, really.