Sadly, it had an air of inevitability about it. A bit like Janet Leigh in Psycho, it all had to end in tears and shreiking violins.
Reports coming in on the wire (?) told us that Chamone was dead at last. The hapless Spoof reporter apparently got shitfaced in Dublin celebrating one of the greatest Spoof hoaxes of all time with a bloke dressed as the Pope and a bloke with a comedy moustache eating Wensleydale on toast.
It appears that Chamone was paralytic on Guinness and Bushmills and was barely able to stand. Her drinking buddies then stuffed her into a wheelie bin to sleep it off and walked down the road drinking bottled Guinness and singing 'Dirty Old Town' at the top of their voices.
While Chamone slept, the binmen came and emptied her into a cart. She was then taken to North City Garbage Disposal, where her intoxicated body was fed through a shredder.
Not much remains.
Candlelit vigils and reverential hymnn singing will be the norm tonight.
CHAMONE - JULY 2009 - JULY 2009 - RIP
What remains of Chamone will be interred in an egg box.
More as we get it.
