High ranking fox officials scramble to hastily launch new media campaign

Following the Conservatives’ recent call to review hunting legislation, top ministers within the fox coalition have been desperately working to sway public opinion. In this leaked media pack, acquired by The Daily Fail, it is clear to see that the United Fox Union of United Foxes has been sufficiently rattled by the threat of a new Conservative government. The media pack, which also features an inordinate number of pirated episodes of Game of Thrones and several dozen nude photos of Chris Pratt, hints at some aggressive tactics by the usually even-tempered UFUoUF.

Titled “LOL”

In this photo, simply titled “LOL” in the media pack, we can guess at the foxes intention to draw fire away from themselves and smear hedgehogs. Oddly, this pygmy hedgehog is not indigenous to the British Isles, can something be read into that? At The Daily Fail we never let an opportunity to smear others as racist pass us by so we say Yes, Yes let’s read something into that.

“We cuute yeh”

This next image, which appears to have been crudely photoshopped by a creature lacking opposable thumbs seems to hint at the UFoUF changing the public’s perception of foxes by replacing hounds in photos with fox kitts. We’re also not certain but the model appears to be actor Dominic West. Again, we are not entirely sure of the relevance of this but we will jump to the conclusion that foxes wrote critically acclaimed HBO show The Wire as a piece of pro-fox propaganda.


From the rather large photo above we can only guess that the foxes are comfortable with a fairly scattergun approach to smearing other wildlife.

“Yum #1”

This topless photo of actor Chris Pratt seems to be from the set of an upcoming Marvel film. We’re not sure why it was in the media pack.

“Hehe I strong”

Ok, so that previous photo sort of makes a little more sense now. Sort of.


In this final file we see what is clearly a promotion shot for ITV’s Downtown Abbey with a fox lazily pasted in, not to scale. No effort has been made to disguise the snowy backdrop of the pasted image.

Note -At time of going to press the UFoUF has overtaken the Green Party in the polls, despite offering no manifesto, policies or human candidates.

Optometrist Jailed For Quite A While

Optometrist jailed for life for teenager’s murder after DNA match to his aunt leads police to track him down TWO DECADES after his brutal killing

  • Teenager was stabbed to death in KFC in 1996
  • His killer has evaded justice ever since and now has a pet sheep, Glenn
  • He was finally tracked down through his DNA and given 90 years
  • The now-33-year-old changed his murder plea to ‘it’s complicated’ ahead of a trial
  • Victim’s mother, 41, feared she wouldn’t live to see son return with fried chicken 



A 33-year-old man has been jailed for life for the murder of a teenage boy 20 years ago – after he was tracked down using his aunt’s DNA.

Mark Malthurst was given a 90-year minimum jail term today after he pleaded guilty to murdering 19-year-old Grish Johns in a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant in 1996.

It is understood he has led a completely normal life since he stabbed the teenager to death two decades ago, working as an eye doctor and catching sheep in a modified bear trap in urban Manchester.

He was finally caught after his aunt bought an iPhone in 2015 and her DNA was routinely taken.

When her details were added to a national database, a ‘familial match’ to DNA found on Mr Johns’ body and clothing was flagged up to bored detectives and Malthurst was arrested.

Mr Johns, 19, from that flat above the bookies, you know, not Coral but the other way, in the town centre opposite Greggs, yeah the one whose mum has got that lazy eye, was assaulted and died from multiple stab wounds to his knees and feet during the lunchtime shift.

The teenager had decided to walk the 56-mile journey to the fast food branch following an erstwhile fox that had him entranced.

His body was discovered at 9.45pm by inattentive KFC staff leaning over the counter.

Following the attack, Malthurst lived a ‘normal life’, continuing to be a self-employed chemist, horse whisperer, cat wrangler and optometrist and moving from Liverpool to Rome and then back to Rotterdam.

He married eight wives and had a daughter, Haggis, and stepson Titus Andronicus.

Mr Johns’ P.E teacher Craig Cotswold, 91, previously told police that he wasn’t entirely sure how he had found such employment and that thirty years of hallucinogenic drugtaking had left him as quite an inappropriate choice for a teaching position, let alone physical education.


He said: ‘It was when I finally followed him into the baths, believing him to be a mermaid and a denizen of Atlantis and I saw this man standing there that I thought ‘He’s not a man, he’s a merman. How is he changing colour?’.

‘Then I realised that my shoes were talking to me again. The left one was speaking in Urdu.

I figured out then that I was probably having another psychedelic flashback and I should put the filleting knife down.’

The court heard Malthurst’s aunt received an extremely generous cavity search when purchasing her iPhone 4s and her DNA profile was put on the national database.

A familial match was identified between her DNA and the DNA taken from Grish’s body and clothing in 1996.


Malthurst was arrested on July 2 last year, then aged 32. He made no reply to the official Police Snapchat message.

In a prepared statement he simply said: ‘I am God incarnate, I shall smite all who oppose me,’ and then exposed his genitalia.

He was charged with Grish’s murder on July 4 and initially urinated across the courtroom floor whilst singing the opening verse of the Mozambique national anthem.

Members of Grish’s family, including his favourite teddy bear, Mr Rumples, sat in the public gallery of the courtroom today to hear Malthurst perform the complete Nickelback discography sang backwards.

Orange-haired Malthurst, wearing a sexy little thong and a tea cosy, stood up and repeatedly farted as the murder charge was put to him.

Jailing Malthurst for a minimum term of 90 years, judge Mr Justice Dark told him: ‘You murdered and abused Grish Johns in a busy restaurant to the complete apathy of all patrons.

‘You were 13. You didn’t know each other. Grish was 19, a happy, outgoing and sociable boy who at the time of his death was wrist deep in a Bargain Bucket and eyeing the approaching, naked, Mr Cotswold with apprehension.’


The judge added: ‘He was repeatedly stabbed, 896 times in all with a blunt-edged butter knife causing four-inch wounds. Eight of the wounds were to his pinky toe.’

The judge added: ‘You married numerous women and had a child and lived your family life for all those years knowing the words to every Nickelback song so well that you could and often would sing them backwards. You will very likely die tomorrow when I don my vigilante persona “Dark Justice”, Marvel have said that they will be in touch. It is nothing like Batman or Daredevil because I am overweight and my costume consists of three egg cartons and a yoghurt pot that I strap to my nose much like an errant badger’.

The Merfoxiad V: Cerulean Seas of Caprice

The sand shakes and crumbles under my feet
As I draw near with drawn sword and blade between
My teeth, red raw with tired eyes and bleeding lips
Aching and shuddering with muscles drawn tight over hips
Legs like lead weights, heaving and hauling this limp, lithe
Frame slowly towards it’s final destination and the end
Of us all

Born down in the deep, dark brine with bellyful of
Baleful hate, an incisive, calculated, cold killing machine
Swam through cerulean seas of caprice
With icy blood coughing and seeping through it’s
Long dead veins
Surging forth towards Brighton sands
With two paws and razor claws intent on bringing death

And he says I’m all we have left
What a state of affairs when there is no
Fair fight to be had
I know I won’t walk away from this
The beast snarls and stares
As I approach, dare to approach
Dare to dream, to believe that
Of all the things in this world

This skinny little girl with a huge heavy sword
Could end this, could stop the dreams
The cold wet nights where I awake with a scream
Every second is eternity now
Every inch a mile
This fragile heart pumping louder than a bomb blast
Each tremulous beat thudding against thin sternum
Cracking and shaking my skeleton
The bone beneath thin flesh
Razor sharp, wrapped in knotted sinew strings

Dark sky light far too bright
Blinded and burning retinas and irises
Aching from the beauty of incandescent sun
Masked behind clouds and storm and squall
But grinding into these weary eyes

Ten metres more
It skulks by the shore
Sharp narrow eyes watching me
Waiting, salivating, dripping from the muzzle
The broadsword tightly clenched in firm, chapped hands
I charge, headfirst, headstrong and wholly resolute
Seeking the end, an end of all of this
An end of dreams that wake me at night
An end to visions that haunt my days
An end to pain, to fear, to all that I held dear
To anything I ever loved
Though for the life of me
I can’t remember what in my life ever meant as much
To me as my own sweet life

The blade connects with thick flesh, the white of the throat
The claws in my chest
Ribs crunch and crack
The hottest, sweetest thing I’ve ever felt
And the last
With every ounce of strength, every drop of blood
Every pound of muscle, every straining sinew
With the force of will and something else, something darker
Deeper, from within the core of myself
I thrust, push, force the great broadsword up
Through the neck
Gouging the throat
As razors cut and saw through my gut
Coughing up blood over white cotton
But still coughing, still standing, still breathing
Eye to eye with the beast from beneath

I never saved anything for the journey back
I always knew that none of this
Limp, frail form was ever built to last
Tied far too tight for far too long
Taut skin over gleaming sharp bones
A precise, surgical living weapon
Only the blood can pay for the blood
Only my life can take away his

As my sword hews through the jaw
Hacking deep into the brain of the beast
I hear nothing
Dead silence and pure
Crystalline, ice white light

I free one hand from the hilt
And grab tight the beast’s bloodied red ear
With one final ragged breath
I hold the jaws to my bared teeth and whisper
Screaming as loud as I ever could;

The sea god will see gods are destined to their deaths

The Merfoxiad Prelude: Foreword, Four Words, Creator

Mutilation, the blood rushing from every vein
They’re toying with nature
Twisting, tweaking, abominating
Water fills its lungs as it chokes into life
A flash of soaked fur and sharp claws

This should never be, but that never stopped them before
And we can only run when it reaches shore
Mangled, twisted, rotten fur, spliced and convulsing
The scales, the gills, wrapped around and diffusing the mammalian blood

The birth, the creation, of a species intent on destruction
Pushed the limits of genetics and death is your reward
Unholy macabre and solely devastating
This laboratory will become our tomb
An underwater killing field, the glass will break
The beast is loose and escape is merely formality preceding our demise
Death from above, the sides, below the surface of this aquatic hell

It was mathematically Impossible they said
This brings me no comfort now
Unrelenting, it stalks the deep, this harpoon
Is my only friend in the world
It breaches

Death in the beginning, predicted, elected, sorted and
Settled, she is all that can stop him now
I lead the beast to the deep
Thank god the sea god can
Hold it at bay as it bays
Barks and calls

Science and omniscience
Neither can save or prevent
Plug, stall the prophecy
But her
One girl

The Merfoxiad II: Delicate, Desiccated Descrator

A sea god
Will be god
Once we have buried
All the rest

Nurse, did you see a nurse in here?
No miss, I’m the first to see you today
How are you feeling
That’s good, we think you’re fine and
Good to go

Go where, she asked but no answer returned
Fine, how fine is fine when you have dreams like these
See things like this
Hear words like those

The young girl rose up on her elbows and slumped against the
Backboard, bored and laying back, she stared at the ceiling
Patterns swirled, shimmered, slowly she saw scales and fur
The doctor’s head around the door; we’ll get you ready to go in an hour

I’m fine
But what if I’m not
They’re only dreams
But what if they’re not
But what if they’re not
Seraca grabbed her clothes from the side,
Threw off her gown and hurried, scurried, charged out

Through the doors, into the cold garden
She sat beside a smoker on a bench
The old man coughed and smiled
Enjoy the fresh air while you’re young sweetie

Seraca smiled softly and pulled her hoodie over her head
You’re only young once and all your troubles only grow with age
He persisted, she resisted, held, bit, clamped down on her tongue
Me, I got cancer, ain’t that a kicker
So I started smoking out of the worry and the stress
Heck, I know it kills me but sometimes a man needs something
A little release, an outlet, something to ease the days

You look worried, concerned, upset he said
Try to relax, your exams won’t be all that bad
Smiling politely she arose and left the bench
Hey sweetie, you remind me of my daughter
Take this; he threw a necklace her way
I don’t need it, think of it as luck
Seraca bowed and the blood ran to her head

Staggering sauntering, with more haste and less speed
Than she would’ve liked had she been well
No shrink, no doctor can know or help
The library, warm, calm and quiet with resources
Breathe in the books and cuddle up in a corner

A reference, for reference, her deference to Japanese
Folklore had Seraca poring over texts once again
Kitsune, come to me, raise your sword
Protectors, guardians and far from sea beasts

The vision, a leviathian of red fur and shimmering scales
Bore little to do with the Japanese tales
Frustrated, humiliated, indebted and immolated
The young girl threw the lore to one side, laid back in the chair

Hazily, grimly, dimly, darkly it flickered, fluttered
Flashed before her eyes, the necklace, the pendant
Then nothing. Nothing more.

She awoke again, wet sweat to the neck and gasping for breath
A couple walked past, glanced in concern, then staggered along, hand in hand
Apathy, not antipathy, though it mattered not to Seraca
An ounce, a grain, a drip, drop of their interest could change nothing

The girl reached for her neck, her fingertips traced down the chain to the amulet
Blindly worn and gently caressed, her eyes took it in truly for the very first time
An engraving, a carving, a marking on bronze
Was it a jaw, a claw or just a mind playing tricks

And a number, beneath the jaws and claws
A human number, or just a mind playing tricks

The Merfoxiad I: Birth in the Brine

Oh, sweet Marianas
Cradle of the deep
The challenge is deep
Dark, down within your abyss
The void stutters and trembles

Marriage in the dark
Marry the death to despair to the prophecy
And how naive are we
To think a god only lives when he is held to be true

Oh sweet Poseidon, biding your time til
The trident, the bident, the mighty fork
Can crawl out from this trench and
Take canine form

As the tale of the tail tells
On one fateful night
Numbered June 14th 2008
But who could tell in the gloom
None to witness, none to watch

Poseidon create, through waves and plates
A great eruption, an incinerating flame
Four thousand feet below good

A flash of red, a shimmer of scales
Perfect form, intelligently designed
And evolved beyond
All comprehension of function and form

The fox floats through the foam
Cackling, crackling, snarling
The beast
Roars and reaches out a paw
To his lord

The god of the sea
Pets and strokes the beast
Checks the jaws, the paws
The claws before its release

And hell in sea and trench will take vulpine form
Twisted far beyond our sight
And set forth again to rule the earth

Those words, a mantra
Repeated themselves and pounded into
Her aching brain
Seraca awoke, a cold sweat
Coating her neck

Lie down, lay back
On your back
The ceiling, cream emulsion with
Those little patterns

Perhaps that swirl is a lion
That twist, a horse
Is that there a cloud
A fish, a fox a sword

And again we’re back to it
This recurring dream
The girl glances at him
Please doctor, what does it mean

Anxiety, he says, pressure at school
She laughs and sighs,
Rolls on her side;
It’s followed me for years
A babe, a child, a teen and now

Seraca steps, glides, floats outside
A waif, a sylph, petite yet hard
Rugged, enduring, a grace and elegance
Of a fencer not a dancer

She steps, stops, stock still
It hits, a splash of blue
She falls to her knees
A crowd rushes to lift
The young girl
Yet all she sees is a cerulean sea
A bolt of red, flash of scales and fur
A birth in the brine, a roar and howl
A call from beyond

The muscle pounds, pauses, stops
Flutters, flickers
The cold steel against her chest
Paddles bring her choking back to life

Young, far too young to fall so soon
Fate has other plans for Seraca

And every night she sleeps
She dreams of scales and fur

The Merfoxiad IV: Scales and Fur

Carving a path through the waves
The power of a thousand unholy days
The tale of a tail and claws
They will all fall before scales and fur

A hero, I am no hero but I’ve never been one to fall before I’m through
I rise up to any challenge and I always stand my ground

Oh now, I see the prophecy has been fulfilled
It’s coming signals the end of days
Seraca, please heed my call and find me with my back against the

Wall, it’s coming, it’s pulsing, it’s racing through the seas,
Beset by caprice and filled with lascivious haemophiliac rage

And now, I hear it. A call, a primal call from beyond this human plane
A rise to power need not be so dramatic, a call to arms can be as mediocre
As necessity, in a world without any heroes, in a land without any hope
Perhaps it’s right that someone as ordinary as me
Shall be the one who sets us free,
So now I ride, I drive, I charge through the land, to meet the demon hand to hand
To face the one they call the greatest foe, the omega and the end

Oh Seraca, you’ll meet those scales and fur with glory in your hand
And a knife between your teeth
As that beast, that whore, that agent of killing and pain
Dares to step forth upon dry land
It comes, it crawls chest first, onto the beach
The breach, it’s born, its blood will reach
Forth, now into the sand as you attack with sword
In your hand, oh, it comes, it crawls into the night

Ive never been the one to fall, i’ve never been one to shirk a challenge
I stop my car, and park right by the cliff and take the hunting knife from out of the sheath
I march, I lurch, I shudder towards the beach, my heart heavy and thudding like

The beat of a drum
Drum, drum, the crash of a gun
The sound, it rips through my ears
My skin, feels tight as though
My veins fit to burst right through
And blood will cover my skin
In a thick layer of red
A warpaint, a uniform
Allied with the dead
The demon, the beast is sat in the sand
Licking its paws, cleaning its hands
It’s cold, red eyes are fixed on the girl
The challenger with baggy shirt and curls

A battle, to decide and determine the future of the earth
The sand beneath their feet will tremble as the night closes in
Vivacious and headstrong the girl will face the machine
A perfect design of scales and fur, set forth to kill
Will it ever face defeat, demise, death by the sword
It has lived and perhaps the ending would fit as
The old saying goes, but sayings are sayings and nobody knows
What destiny and fate have shaped, in their wicked way
Concocted and planned, the world, to a man
Must know, must care, but it matters not
As on the beach, she is

July Update – Book Release and more

Happy July!

Front preview

Due for release this month; my first book. Swannui and Cygnus (a play on ennui and sickness) is a collection of selected poems and will be available from selected Suffolk book shops, myself personally, street corners and off the back of a van in a deserted car park late at night on a long forgotten industrial estate. Covering such themes as misanthropy, world-weariness, religion, war, sex and with no mention at all of foxes or the colour of their fur; Swannui and Cygnus promises to be an entertaining and lighthearted romp through the corridors of a mildly chaotic mind.

Beautiful cover art by Violet Adams. Redesigned Iridescentdanfoxx by Sam Bedingfield.

Also check out my catchy new web address http://www.iridescentfox.co.uk
It just redirects here, but it’s like a whole 12 characters shorter! How is that for efficiency, think of all the time you could save!