Electricity-Generating Virus Unlikely To Wreck Our Wedding Nights, Boast Hubristic Scientists

Researchers at the Massachusetts Institute of Frankenstein Technology have developed a battery powered by a bacteriophage virus, which they promise will enable billions of car owners to continue driving round the corner for a pint of milk without the risk of experiencing a vague feeling of remorse that they have just wasted another drop of the world's dwindling fossil fuel reserves.

Instead, muttered the wild-eyed scientists, the motorists of the future will only have to ignore a remorseless, gnawing fear in the back of their minds that, in the event of a front-end shunt, they may inadvertently release a horribly-mutated virus cloud that will devour the flesh of every living creature on the planet, starting with them.

The prototype battery is the size of a coin, making it suitable only for a SoundBlaster remote control or a 20-year-old 8k memory card. However, the twisted minds of misguided scientists are working feverishly to find a way to grow it to the size of a large dog - possibly by bombarding it with Cherenkov radiation, or raising it to the skies at the height of a raging thunderstorm.

When asked whether dabbling with the very forces of creation might perhaps lead to unforeseen consequences, the researchers angrily ordered their assistant - a shambling amoeboid cyborg called Igor - to throw out the ignorant villagers.

"You fools!" they said later, in a press release. "You cannot hope to understand! We are on the brink of realising mankind's greatest goal throughout the centuries - nothing less than power over 1.5V itself!"

A fearful peasant mob of environmentalists which had gathered at the village inn was thwarted when somebody pointed out a fatal flaw in their hastily-devised plan to release the virus from captivity, namely that they stood little chance of burning MIT to its foundations with wind-up torches.

The Postmodern Prometheus

A team of Newcastle University researchers have created the UK’s first human-animal hybrids, by implanting DNA from human skin cells into genetically-stripped cow eggs.

Just as the evil scientists were celebrating their unholy triumph by drinking a toast in blood, however, the mutant abominations crashed out of the laboratory, rending their presumptuous creators limb from limb. They then lurched through the streets of Newcastle, creating mayhem among the terrified peasantry. One of the hideous cells paused to play with an innocent child, but was driven off by a hail of stones hurled by plucky Catholic priests.

At bay, the ungodly egg monstrosities screamed defiance, claiming that they had not asked to be made, and only sought to live out their wretched lives in some remote fastness, well away from mankind. Their pleas fell on deaf ears, however, and they were last seen climbing aboard a northbound inter-city train in search of Scotland’s Cardinal O’Brien, seeking sanctuary.