|Issue 1 - December 1971|
A patrolling fuzz phoned in to his station sergeant one windy Sunday at Whitley Bay on Tyneside to tell him that there was a ring of about 200 fairies on the promenade.
Not unnaturally, the sergeant told him to go home and sleep it off and yes, he understood, Saturday was a bad night. But the young fuzz insisted the little multi-coloured gnomosexuals were as solid as he was.
This was, of course, the infamous but true case of the phantom plaster gnome snatcher who was never caught.
At dead of night our phantom gnome hunter had raided the gardens of the executive belt in Tynemouth and Whitley Bay and removed all the plaster abominations in his swag bag.
At dawn, to the music of muffled shouts: "Jim, Jim, they've taken our gnomes," he formed a circle with them on the pavement and went his way.
Alas, the gnome menace is spreading rapidly through Europe, cabled Muther Grumble's roving correspondent from Milan.
He had just stepped outside from the Galleria D'Arte Moderna for a stroll in the adjoining public gardens when he saw something which made him recoil in horror.
Next to the miniature railway line stood a number of plaster gnomes, all with their backs turned away from our observer.
The reason for this became apparent when the gnomes were viewed from the other side. They all appeared to be urinating. Wart