Nefarious necrology aboundeth!
The demise of the mæstro of the marionettes led to great sorrow yesterday.
Such sorrow, in fact, that tributes are not enough!
Thems what run the Tourist Board have been engaging in Herbert West type shennanigans, and reinstating the semblance of life in OAPs!
In cahoots with Primark and Dotty P's, the dead manipulator of the moppets has been installed in his usual place. In Superdupermarionation, you can't even see the strings that perform the charade of live action infinite Mandelbröt fractalization!
It's come to something when you're so famed for your talents, that even in death you're forced to re-enact your skills for the public!
Of course, in order to cover up the demise and cyborgial replacement, the EDP has gone OTT with it's coverage. Even going to the lengths of having a photo of the taxidermerised armature filled Perry-suit clasping todays paper as "proof" of his longevity.
Obviously a sign around his neck saying "I Aten't Dead" isn't sufficient evidence.
Still, at least he managed to keep his disguise up all these years. Even Priscilla wouldn't recognise him when he's crooning to his old tunes in a wig. Then again, who'd ever think to look for hound dogs busking in Norwich and great Y'ha-Nthlei?
Tweed hats off to the fella.
