Call them failed journalists, failed authors or even failed spoof writers - just call them. A spoof writer's life is short but exciting, but these are after all the makers of dreams. That is, if you dream of badly written newspaper articles about things that didn't really happen.
A typical spoof writer will begin his or her day at around midday. After a short glass of mother's ruin, he will gather the will power to get out of bed. Breakfast consists of coffee, possibly topped up with more gin.
In the old days, a spoof writer would receive the morning papers and would read them desperately looking for the next good idea. Nowadays the internet is an easier and cheaper way to find inspiration, or even plagiarise.
The media is a fertile hunting ground of ideas, particularly those that may disagree with the writer's own views. After building up a sizeable head of anger, the writer is ready to begin.
A good spoof writer can knock out three poorly thought-out spoof stories before lunchtime, and as any experienced writer knows, the spellchecker is for wimps. A spoof is a work of art, and if that includes some grammatical errors, who cares. It's all part of the writer's artistic licence.
After popping out to the shops for a pork pie and a copy of Razzle, the serious spoof writer is ready for a hard afternoon's journalistic investigation. This is usually conducted in the pub.
The pub is the perfect place for the writer to exercise his wit with fellow intellectuals, sparring effortlessly with his one liners while knocking back the Stella. Inevitably, a raucous argument may ensue, which may result in the loss of teeth. Or the writer may spend the afternoons scavenging for cigarette butts, so gritty is his way of living.
Around closing time, or when the writer has been ejected from the premises for his excessive wit, he will gain solace from a last minute kebab. But bedtime is not yet come, for this is the top spoof writer's most productive hour. Bashing out a rambling but genius article, then self-promoting not one but ten of his own pieces, here is where the writer is truly in his prime.
Finally, after a last drop of gin to prevent the night terrors that only true artists experience, he settles into a light coma.