Three days of silent mourning: the Daily Mash's plan for when Mr Blobby dies

EVERY publication of record in the UK must have plans in place for when the inevitable happens. Here is how the Daily Mash will observe the tragic loss of Mr Blobby.

Three days of silent mourning

Once confirmation has been received from Crinkley Bottom, our offices will lie vacant for three days and the site will be replaced by a black screen. Editors, writers and angry Facebook commenters alike must keep a solemn and respectful silence for 72 hours.

A subsequent three days of celebration

After the allotted period of reflection, we will return with tributes to the life and times of the nation’s pink-and-yellow jester, with tributes from celebrity friends like Noel Edmonds, Vicki Michelle, and Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

Replacing all instances of the word ‘the’ with ‘Blobby’

For an unspecified number of weeks following the celebration period, we will replace all instances of the word ‘the’ in our articles with ‘Blobby’. Sentences like ‘Blobby prime minister will today announce blobby largest cuts to public services blobby country has ever seen’ will bring us together.

A ritualistic bonfire

When the state funeral begins, the company’s HR manager will light a ceremonial 40ft high bonfire, on which we will burn our cherished Blobby memorabilia and copies of his classic Christmas number one, Mr Blobby.

A pilgrimage to Crinkley Bottom

Following the televised funeral, all editorial staff and readers are invited to take part in a pilgrimage from London to one of the three failed Crinkley Bottom theme parks. There, amid the ruins, they can sign a condolence book and be gunged by his ashes.

Sign up now to get
The Daily Mash
free Headlines email – every weekday

Why I'm now forced to pretend Benny f**king Hill's hilarious, by a gammon

AS A gammon, I can’t be seen laughing at right-on lefties. Instead I enjoy dolly birds with big knockers and Indian men with bad English. Stuff that’s naturally funny. 

So I was exultant when The Benny Hill Show came back, as two fingers to the woke brigade, and trumpeted about it online. I was really looking forward to it until I watched it.

I tuned in last night, after finding the bastard miles down past BBC ALBA, and settled in with a pot of tea for a non-politically correct festival of hilarity. Only to find that it was a load of old shit.

The stuff I dimly remembered from four decades ago was there – scantily clad lovelies, speeded-up film. But I’d forgotten those sketches where they chase Benny around a park or a hospital go on for bloody months when you’re not five years old.

I also felt uncomfortable at how weirdly sexually dysfunctional Benny’s character was, hinting at early psychological trauma. Even the famous Yakety Sax gave me a migraine.

Well they weren’t all gold, I told myself, buttering a crumpet. The good stuff must be later on. But it was all bollocks. Benny doing dismally unfunny songs. Benny getting everything wrong at a health farm, looking dangerously unfit.

I’d assumed that pissing off liberals was automatically great comedy, but no. And now I’ve insisted friends come over for a Benny Hill marathon. I might slip earbuds in and listen to an audiobook.

This is just like when I went on about how great and not sexist the Two Ronnies were and got bought that box-set. Fifty quid it cost and I’ve still got 71 hours of shit wordplay to get through.