While suspicious eyes have been drawn elsewhere and allegations made against the evil “after five club” (AFC), SCOOP has unearthed startling evidence of another group intent on controlling everything to do with Ulster Rugby and World-Wide Message Board domination.

Meeting before bedtime, over a cup of warm milk and a Farley’s Rusk, and carrying out perverse practices on cuddly toys, this group is reported to rendezvous among the bushes in Kimble Valley. Collectively they are known as the “Before Seven Cabal” (BSc), or more sinisterly “the kimbles”.

In the shady world of Kimble Valley, it is hard to identify who is who, but SCOOP has been informed by sources close to the group that one of them, who answers to the name ‘Kimbo’, is running a campaign to stand for “El Presidenté” of the URSC.

Speaking today on behalf of the URSC committee, the original kimble BSc denied any knowledge of such a group, and speculated that it was almost certainly a malicious rumour put about by the other committee member to discredit him. “Such people are more to be pitied than scorned. We must just learn to tolerate them”, he opined, before going on to say, “THEN they should be put up against the wall and shot!”

Earlier, before his afternoon nap, someone claiming to be Cap’n Pom, broke wind …. cover to explain from a pressbox, “We like to have wee secrets but that is not what this is all about. If you want to know about topical and important stories then you will have to ask my Mummy. She says it’s all happened because someone threw their toys out of their pram”.

After tea, and just before bedtime, Scoop received a slightly anonymous fax warning against publication of any of this story. We are in two minds whether to do this or not. The letter was signed “Furious Florry”, but we are investigating the possibility that this is simply another moniker for Cap’n Pom or Kimbo!

But first,
The time has come to say goodnight, to say sleep tight till the morning light
Oh the time has come to say goodnight - at the end of a perfect day
We've had so much fun today; tomorrow's just a dream away
And now it's time to say goodnight - at the end of a perfect day

Filed for scoop by our undercover age reporters, Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa, and Po

(15 March)
Landsdowne Road Reprieved?

The demolition men turned up months early and at the wrong stadium last Sunday, as the French pack pushed their English opponents all over the pitch and a couple of wee onion sellers played their own version of touch rugby.

“I had come to the ground expecting to see a chariot race”, said one disgruntled English fan, "while all I saw were big bright blue bulldozers running amok all over the place.”

“Oh ya, rather”, said a posh young lady in high heels, “and besides, isn’t it Landsdowne Road that is due for demolition, not the English Rugger Team?”

“It’s hardly cricket when they don’t give you the ball to play with”, complained another, before heading off to a wee bistro to exchange his euros for a bottle of cheap white and some frogs’ legs.

Scoop has subsequently learned that Twickers has been besieged all week by second hand car salesmen, all with an eye for a bargain. “I was down the pub when I heard there might be a second hand chariot for sale,” said one. “Unfortunately I have now found out that there are no wheels on it.”

“Besides, it is a ghastly colour. My mate said it was white, but it’s now basically navy with loads of bright blue scorch marks all down the sides. Obviously not one careful owner…”

“Agh, all it needs now is a fresh coat of bright green paint, a wheel at the front and a couple of handles”, drawled Paddy O’Power, who said he was really over to watch the gee gees. “The boy back home has been complaining that we’ve been needing a new wheel barrow for months now.”

This exclusive has been filed by Scoop’s Motoring Correspondent, Charrie Bang

(13 March)
And now for something completely different...a disarming encounter

.............Floating down one of two tributaries that flow into Lake Delia, (Ravers car park to the uninitiated), after the Munster match, I was caught up in the great tide of humanity that merges where the touchline faithful meet the torrent flowing from the top of the Terrace and the Great Barrier range. These two great rivers of jubilant souls meet in one seething mass at the narrows between the beer tent, the souvenir stall and the toilet block. Swept forward on the surging tide one could feel the cross flow of a strong current gripping you at the emergence of the beer tent boyos, who post match, swim and thrash their way to the bogs against the flow of the Terrace tributaries, heading for the Onslow exit across Lake Delia.

Earlier, much earlier last Friday night pre match, Lake Delia was busy but calm, its shores gripped in an icy embrace as the faithful gathered for a pre match swally in the 'hot air' confines of the beer tent. In freezing temperatures hardly a bonce didn't bear a beanie of some description.

As the kick off approached I decided to make my way by gnu towards the touchline tributary and with BP junior I paddled along the shores of Delia to the Toilet block end of the beer tent. It was here I came across an unusual sight on the shoreline. The redoubtable chairman of the URSC stood holding a large fleg advertising the URSC. The fleg fairly fluttered in the still night air, billowing in the hot air thermals emanating from the beer tent below. Having subsequently watched a documentary on Custer's last stand I was visibly reminded of Chairman Bob who stood by a chap I didn't recognise. Shoulder to shoulder with the unrecognisable one, stood the Master Mariner himself. A chicken rancher aimed a camera at the grinning posse.

Watching this stood Cap'n Grumpy, knee deep in Delia's icy waters and with his back to me. His beanie hat seemed like a tempting target. Jumping from my gnu I snuck up behind him and snatched it. As I did so the Cap’n whirled round, and radiated a smile. I held up my hands in a defensive gesture, but it was too late, one of my hands detached itself from my wrist and clattered into Delia’s icy waters. I gasped in horror as I realised I was up against the Cap’n single handed.

"Mr Barnes is here and wants to speak to you," the Cap’n informed me and smiled broadly once more. Immediately the other hand plummeted into the depths of Delia. The Cap’n beamed at me positively, laser like; it was then that my lower left arm fell off. I gazed down in panic at the end of my funny bone sticking out – this was no laughing matter, I was being disarmed piece by piece. I had heard the Cap’n was an expert at unarmed combat – was this what he was about.

"Er, where is Mr Barnes," I stammered, "what does he look like?"
"He's over there somewhere," the Cap’n waved airily and beamed all over. Too late my right lower arm detached itself as I realised that my arms were being decommissioned even as I negotiated.

Next my right upper arm splashed into Delia’s icy waters, I knew I was useless at unarmed combat and with no arms I would be completely defenceless.

The Cap’n beamed again and I couldn’t resist as the last arm, my upper left, fell to Delia's floor. I reckoned the Cap’n perceived me as being 'armless but this was ridiculous, I really was unarmed. My arms had been put completely beyond use. Sensing I had lost the arms race, I raced for my gnu and instructed BP Jr. to paddle furiously for the touchline.

Another Friday night like this one and I could be meeting the FRU completely legless.

There now follows a communiqué by our Communications Executive, Carrie R Pidgin.

The Editors of SCOOP would like to apologise for the late publication of Issue 4. They would like to, but as this is a sort of macho thing and they don’t want to lose face with their readers, they have decided to brass it out and act as if everything is normal. Rumours that one of them has resigned are emphatically denied. Rumours that all of them were caught red handed distributing bootleg stout during the MunsterMash on Friday evening are similarly, emphatically denied. If Scoop finds out who is spreading these malicious lies we will press for their immediate expulsion from the URSC committee.

The following is a copy of a statement prepared earlier by Scoop’s legal team of Sue, Grabbit and Run. Apparently the original was lost down a grating.

“Scoop has decided to cease publication of any articles which contain references to, or could be construed to contain references to, CT, resignations, CT’s resignation(s), Stanley, Nolangate, East Belfast Bus Services, and in particular the No 32 buses, as well as any reports on URSC committee business discussing any of the foregoing. As a result, all 23 stories which should have gone to press, have now been axed.”

Scoop is currently considering running a story about Rugby, including how to get there and places to visit.

Normal satire will be restored as soon as something entirely different happens over Raving Hill way.