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Good evening. My name’s Tom Dudley. Welcome to the Six O’clock News from the Pesky Broadcasting Corporation.

We have an exclusive for you tonight. Osama Bin Laden has apparently risen from the deep. Sorry…I mean…a deep. A deep sleep. Bloody autocue. And he is pissed right off that those dastardly American crusaders have allegedly killed him off. An Al Qaeda spokesperson told Pesky News earlier today that he, Mr. Laden, is currently in discussions with his legal advisors about the possibility of suing his distant cousin, Mr. Obama, over loss of earnings. According to this spokesperson, who, incidentally, sounded very much like my granddad after a few whiskies, Mr. Laden was considering all his options to move the organisation forward, including the likelihood of putting in a bid for Aberdeen Football Club.

When pressed on this diversification from the usual strategy of bombing, releasing grainy videos and generally making a nuisance of himself wherever he went, the spokesperson said:

“It’s all to do with expanding into new markets. Growth has slowed recently, mainly due to popular uprisings of potential customers in North Africa and The Middle East who seek democracy and jobs now instead of promises of many virgins in another life. People are fed-up with all that doom and gloom, harsh training camps and short career spans of suicide bombing. They want satellite TV, Premiership and Champions League Football, and back-catalogue episodes of Top Gear.”

He was cut-off at that point as the credit ran out on his phone, but after he topped-up here’s what he said when Pesky News pressed further:

“Firstly, we believe football is now the fastest growing religion in the world and, being both devout and enterprising, we want a piece of the action. Mr. Laden has been a fan of Aberdeen since Alex Ferguson conquered Europe with them in the early eighties. He believes any underdog who can defeat the European crusaders on their own soil is worth a punt. Plus, Aberdeen is an oil-rich city where Mr. Laden has already invested millions over the years. But it’s our research into the already well-financed religious war that has been simmering for over a hundred years in Scotland’s football leagues, which persuaded us there’s a gap in the market for an Islamic team.

Obviously, there will be some difficulties to begin with, but I’m sure over time, as we sign exclusively Muslim players, the Aberdeen fans will learn to enjoy chanting verses from the Koran, especially if we’re winning trophies. And win trophies we shall. Both Celtic and Rangers fans, if they pray at all, pray on Sundays, which as you know is a day after most games. What’s the point in that? Stupid infidels. We’re confident that by praying on the Friday before matches on the Saturday we will be nearer the top of God’s ‘to do list’. We’re also pretty confident the fan base will grow rapidly as many jump on the bandwagon of something new, refreshing and successful in what has become a rather stagnant, parochial conflict based mainly around just the West of Scotland.

There are already plans afoot to release a video of Mr. Laden singing The Northern Lights of Old Aberdeen, but it’s been delayed for now while we wait on Simon Cowell getting back to us about producing and promoting the single. You wouldn’t believe how much he charges per hour. And may I also add, contrary to malicious rumours doing the rounds on Twitter, Mr. Laden has no plans to present a flock of sheep to the team’s supporters as a gesture of goodwill, but he will consider offering a reasonable discount to season ticket holders who convert to Islam.”

At this point in the interview a mixture of Glaswegian, Irish and American accents shouting, backed-up by some terrible singing in Arabic and a lone bleating sheep, were all heard in the background before shots rang out and the line went dead. But don’t worry, viewers, we’ll bring you more on that story when it arrives by courier.

Other news today. Shares rose sharply earlier when rumours circulating around the London Stock Exchange, involving a hostile buy-out of Proctor and Gamble by the Taliban, turned out to be true. Apparently, the only hiccups in the deal are the logistics of counting such a huge sum of money to make sure it’s all there and then transporting it to a safe country, the UK. As expected, the Taliban insisted on paying in cash, so a fleet of Eddie Stobart lorries are making their way to Afghanistan to pick up the billions of dollars-worth of used banknotes. Our insider at the Stock Exchange told us the deal almost collapsed when the Taliban tried to include £20,021 of Scottish banknotes as part payment, shouting something about it being legal tender. The deal was eventually closed two hours later when both parties agreed to send the cash to Susan Boyle along with a strongly-worded request to give singing a rest.

We at Pesky News plan to use GPS technology to track the cash convoy as it travels across Asia, through Europe and across The Channel, and some of us are planning a short detour for one of the lorries by offering the driver the choice of facial reconstruction or a carton of fags. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it was trying to get a ski mask my size in the summer.

Meanwhile, the Daily Mail, in their worldy wisdom, are predicting that out of the initial ten lorries they expect only one to return with the loaded amount of cash and the others to be loaded with pot-bellied asylum seekers with stomachs full of heroin. MI6, MI5 and the Foreign Office have all vowed to check every single banknote to ensure they’re not contaminated, counterfeit or stolen, and say their commission charges of between 3-5% are below market rates.
Unfortunately, no-one from the Taliban was available to answer criticisms, mainly from Unilever and the US Senate, that the deal was nothing more than a huge opium-related money-laundering scam, or to whether or not future products would be biological or non-biological. We’ll keep you informed of this story as more news comes in.

And now over to Bill for today’s sport’s news.

“Cheers, Tom. Well, the big story of the day is that there is no sports news today. Yes, I cancelled everything due to a combination of end of season apathy, being blind drunk last night and having only just arrived in the studio after waking up in your mum’s bed. Hopefully, I’ll have something for you tonight, though. I’m off for a conference with Maureen from The Holiest Sunday Morning Show Ever right after this flying visit to the studio; going to help her out with some presenting techniques, camera angles and relaxation exercises. I’ll try to post the highlights on YouTube later, but I can’t promise anything as she’s bringing over a few bottles of Moet, several grams of Peruvian Flake and her twin sister who’s just arrived back from the Playboy mansion.”

Best of luck with that one, Bill. Really looking forward to the results later.

“Talking of flying visits, Tom. Your wife was telling me you’re still quicker than Usain Bolt. I take it that advice I gave you to think about Gordon Brown never helped?”

Okay…yes…well. Thanks Bill. He’s such a kidder. Anyway…moving on…where was I? The producer’s telling me we have some time to kill before Chris makes or breaks our day with the weather forecast. It’s funny how we’ve come to blame our poor weather presenters when they don’t give us what we want. One of the perks of the job I suppose. Although, in saying that, I did think the crazy stalker who chased Chris for a hundred and forty miles up the M6 last month, trying to ram him and his kids off the road all because of a little rain on her wedding day, took it a bit too far. And then when I saw the wedding picture of her standing outside the church completely drenched, and with inside-out umbrella flapping in the wind for effect, I thought she should’ve been glad someone married her in the first place. Whoever said you don’t get ugly brides hadn’t seen this photo album. One veil wasn’t even nearly enough and struggling to do a job that two burkas might’ve struggled with, which got me thinking about starting a petition to make wearing them compulsory for women that even Wayne Rooney wouldn’t sleep with, regardless of religion.

Oh, wait a minute… I’m just hearing from the producer…she’s now doing life for murdering her husband at home…then eating him in Hyde Park over the course of a week…with a set of picnic cutlery. Apparently…in a vain attempt to satisfy her needs…he’d been attending a part-time evening course in Meteorology…and using his newly-acquired knowledge…talked her into going to Scotland for a weekend…to relax in the sun. Obviously not the quickest of learners and, from what I’m hearing, he should never have based his forecast on the reading of tea leaves in the first place, but there you are, that’s wannabe weathermen for you.

Ah, Chris, good to see you looking so…so…in one piece. Still getting sacks of hate mail every day? Oh, almost forgot to tell you, I passed your email address on to my wife who shared it with the Women’s Guild at last week’s conference. Best of luck with that one. Anyway, what weatherly delights do you, the mystical guru…the Gandalf of the clouds…the professor of precipitation…have for us mere sun worshipping peasants today? We’re a tough crowd to please, as you well know, and feelings are running high after last week’s poor performance ruined not only my barbecue, but also countless garden parties up and down the country. But we’re all right behind you and hoping you play a blinder this week.

“I’m afraid to say, Tom, I’ve just had a look at the satellite images for the foreseeable future..and it’s…and it’s not looking too good.”

No need to be afraid, Chris. That crazy she-devil who chased you is well locked-up and my own missus is heavily sedated for now, having stayed up all night at a friend’s baking cakes and making sandwiches for the weekend’s festivities. I’m sure it can’t be too bad. It’s summer time. Let’s hear it, son.

“Well, as you can see from your screens there is one huge black cloud covering the whole of the UK and most of the North Atlantic. There’s going to be an unprecedented amount of rainfall over the next few days, probably measured in metres, and there will be, as I’m sure you can imagine, terrible flooding all over the country. And then, if you look at these isobars, you can see the wind is going to be relentless, causing widespread structural damage. Finally, and this is the killer, the temperature is going to be well-below freezing every night for at least a month causing many of the lakes from the daytime flooding to become glaciers. The country is going to come to a standstill and many citizens will be without basics such as food and energy supplies. I was hoping to end on a positive note, but other than the fact I have a day off tomorrow to visit my mother-in-law in her new care home for the criminally insane, there’s nothing good on the horizon.”

Mm, that’s not so good, Chris: especially for this time of year when we’re all hoping for a bit of a tan and a few chicken drumsticks. No wonder you were afraid to say. Well, I hope your wife’s got you well insured, son. How is she by the way? Tell her I’ll give her a call next week to help her sort out the arrangements and clear out your wardrobe. Do you still have those Taylor-Made irons in the garage? Put a red sticker on them for me, will you? That’s a good lad. You were crap at golf anyway. I’ve always said those clubs deserve a better home.

Well, viewers, no doubt we’ll be reading Chris’s Obituary next week in the Pesky Times. Let’s hope whoever replaces him does a better job, for all our sakes.

And that’s all we have time for tonight, viewers. There will be another bulletin on later tonight, providing more shallow analysis of the news you want to hear but doesn’t actually exist, along with other news that no-one’s interested in apart from conspiracy theorists, creative writers and News Corporation journalists. Until then, it’s goodnight from me. Don’t forget to delete all your voicemails, and lock all your doors and windows, unless, of course, you’re expecting me, in which case I’ll see you soon. Mind wear that outfit. You know the one.

Ah, hold on a minute…oh yes, here’s a bonus for you sports fans out there in Peskyland. The producer’s just informed me we’ll have live footage from Bill’s secret liaison with Maureen and her twin sister at the Travelodge, courtesy of a hidden live webcam planted by one of our up and coming young cameramen. From all here at Pesky News, have a very good night.