Vote rigging allegation stuns Spoof community

Funny story written by Harry Porter

Sunday, 27 June 2004


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On the make, on the take and, on the whole, thoroughly despicable

WARNING: The story below is not funny. It contains obscene language, confirmation of blatant corruption, hints at violence, suggests bizarre sexual practices, details illegal fishing and epitomises 21st century greed. Do not read this story but please rate it with five stars.

Vote rigging has forever polluted the world of satire.

Accusations that some writers have deliberately manipulated ratings on so they seem glisteningly great though barely anyone reads their stories have been confirmed.

Harry Porter, the caretaker of a remote Shetland whaling station, has been revealed as one of the worst perpetrators of a secretive sect, akin to a literary Beggars Bennison, that is forcing innocent computer owners to falsely rate stories with five stars.

Porter, an admitted corrupt, evil, lying, Labrador-stabbing ex-whaler, was exposed after one of his stories apparently netted not just one but TWO five-star ratings in a couple of hours.

Eagle-eyed star counters, knowing his copy was far from deserving this ranking, were then able to blow the whistle, exposing Porter for the fraud he undoubtedly is.

“The rules of journalism dictate no-one reads more than four paragraphs unless they are really interested so, thankfully, we’ve already lost all those who read stories,” Porter said. “Now that we’re into the fifth par I’ll come clean because no one who matters will be reading this far.

“I’ve a bit of respect for that Charlie Van Horn guy who took the rap for voting five stars for me but, beneath his sarcastic exterior, he’s just a softie covering my ass.”

Porter admitted that on the night in question he wrote his story and, after having had too much beer in supporting Portugal in their victory over England because “my mother once holidayed in the Algarve”, he:

· Borrowed a berthed semi-inflatable from the whaling station
· Rowed drunkenly across the estuary
· Kicked in the door of people he suspected of having a computer
· Forced them to log on to after threatening them with a sharpened dried seal flipper
· Made them vote for his story

“You’ve got to realise the pressure I’m under”, he said. “I write mainly for the UK and I’m lucky if I get 100 hits for a story.

“Without the hits, I need the star rating or I’m just another p*ick full of bulls*it.

“I’ve taken all my savings and paid off around eight people with computers whose job it is to give all my stories five stars. That’s what online writing is about – hits and stars.

“Take that awesome Brianna, you know the one who looks like a woman and writes like a man. What is he or she? A ladyboy? Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m not judging, I once made out with a penguin that was the mascot on a Norwegian whaler.

“Anyway, back to Brianna, his and her hits are f**kin’ frightening. I don’t know what a goddamn beaver is, never mind who the hell Britney Spears is, so all I’ve got is a star rating.”

So is Porter not ready, or able, to hit the big headlines? Isn’t he up to ‘Pope tells Michael Jackson, Bush and Blair that he’d use Britney’s sh*t as toothpaste’?

“There you go again,” he yelled. “Who the hell is Britney? Hey, I know that Jackson guy though, even wrote a story about him. He’s that b***ard of a whisky writer who rated Edradour below Lagavulin.”

“To get five stars is a buzz; it makes my life worthwhile. I don’t give a s*it if anyone reads my story, I just want five f**kin’ stars. You’ve got to understand that. Why do I write anything? I want stars, f**kin’ stars that’s all. What do you think? This is fun? F**k that, I’ve nothing to say, I’m just doing it so I can see five f**kin’ gold stars next to my name. The more stars I f**ckin’ get the more I can impress the whalers that dock here.”

But wasn’t the ‘Sneaky Iranians’ story an indictment of Britain’s siege mentality today that, possibly, some people appreciated with a wry smile?

“No way,” he revealed. “I’d simply paid hard cash to net some votes. That’s all it was. I don’t care how many cute seal cubs I have to club or how many illegally-caught whales I slice up, I’ll do it for the cash to keep my star rating up, even if it’s not worth a sh*t.”

Porter confessed that many writers had intimidated him.

“Take Danto, Morgan Truce, The Produce Mgr, Dansa, Frank Cotolo, all of them are so damn prolific and consistent. They get numbers and ratings I can only dream of.

“Then take Jann - not only the numbers but breasts I dream of. And she’s got a face, a human one at that! Do you know how rare that is up here in this god-forsaken wilderness?

“There’s no fairness in this goddamn spoof writing world.”

Sitting in front of a screensaver with Jann’s face and breasts pasted on to the image of his favourite seal, Porter disclosed that payments from had meant he could hire more people to vote for him.

“I’d work through the night,” he said. “I’d cut those whales until I dropped neck-deep in blubber and blood but I wouldn’t stop until every single one of the thousands of the 100 people who read my scribblings gave me five stars.

“It’s all that matters, Hooch Harker taught me that.”

Now the embittered Porter, isolated and rejected by his one-time fellow writers, is looking to find a career in Gaelic writing, which is similar to English writing but without any vowels.

The funny story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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