Here's a fan fiction satire what I wrote. It's based on this news article by Aislinn Simpson. However, it's made up, like most things people write about this article. That is to say, this did not happen.
Explanation next post.
Ainslee flipped her raven lochs behind her hears and smiled at her editor with her violet eyes.
"So, Hugh," she batted her eyes, "I went to the Foo Fighters concert like what music editor Kevin Bond asked of me, and guess what! I met Jimmy Page and got an Exclusive with him."
"Who?" said her Editor, lighting his pipe with a lighter. He hated Kevin Bond! But had to put up with him because he was the owner's friend.
"The guitarist they called on stage at the end."
"Didja?" said her editor, smoking his pipe in a bored way.
"Yes. He's like a megastar and stuff but he's really down to earth and stuff."
"Huh," he answered, his words appearing in a pouf of smock.
"Anyway, he told me Led Zepplin was reforming in 2009."
"Did he, huh?" said Hugh, disinterestedly.
"Yeah, and I wasn't sure if I should mention it in the paper."
She giggled artlessly, wide violet eyes pleating at the masterful editor before her. "I thought, maybe there's an angle there. If I could just pitch it right, there could be some interest. I mean, in 2007 Led Zeppellin has reformed once before already and apparently twenty million people applied for tickets worth over a hundred pounds each."
He starred at her like she was a rat in his kichen.
She tossed her lox gaily and smiled at the crusty but benign newspaperman to who she owed her proffesionnal carer. He was a touhg cooky! "I thought maybe the paper could just mention it once, maybe on like, nine or page fifteen, it is a exclusive. No won else got near Jimy Page."
He gave her a forbidden look, golwering under his highbrows at the junior reporter all keen and stuff, and young and full of live.
"No," he said with fine alty.
"Well, I was of two mined about it," she admitted. "I thought may be some interrest. But I was all yeah but no but yeah about it myself. Thank you for your advice, Sir Huge."
"You mark my words," barked Hug loudly in her rear, "All this long hair crap is a fad. Bloody youngsters like bloody Mick bloody Jagger and their bloody knight bloody hoods. I won't have the Daily Torygraph pandering to the little poofters and their bloody guitars. You hear me? Spike the damn story. And let's hear no more of these Huns and their barrage balloons!"
Ainslee backed out of Sir Huges orifice thinking deaply. Hugh was write, of course. But she dreamily thought of Jimy Page and his dreamy hair and welcoming smile speaking volumes to her, like a sunny day on a sunny beach, not too hot and not too windy, but just right, with no flies. Something about the twinkie in his eyes she found quite erratic, of only she'd dared admit to herself.
She thought, "I will get Mr. Pages message out to the world! He relying on on me to spread the world about the re-onion. But how shall I do it without Hguh finding out and sacking me?" Her violet eyes with their wonderful eyelashes, brimmed with tiers, but then lit up in her creamy face as she had a great idea. She began to type up her report on the Foo Fighters – and hid the exclusive deep within it's journalistic depths!
It was the first time Led Zeppelin had appeared onstage since their hugely successful reunion concert in front of 22,000 fans at London's O2 centre in December.
In an interview after that concert, Page said the band were ready to reunite and perform more live events.
A sly smile lit up her shy face. Jimmy wood be so pleased with her. She dreamed of how he wold reward her for her boldness in standing up to sir Hugh.
End... or is it?