In your hand, silly!

The Enquirer's Headquarters is actually a large, rancid, urine soaked tent, cleverly in an undisclosed location. Sorry if that doesn't seem very glamorous, but you should've thought about that before you became an English Major, eh?

What?! How did you learn about the Imprimater– I mean… um… never mind. Nothing to see here.

An elderly editor who doesn't allow “naughty words” into his “precious paper” lest they “sully its dignity” and “tarnish its reputation”. Regardless, he seems to have little idea of how to do the important thing of catching typos.³⁾ He is responsible for the title of the page The Watcher's *Ahem*, as well as its content, or lack there-of. He also regularly edited Ask Full Metal Loin, though eyewitnesses claim he usually inebriated himself before doing so.

“Hello… Mitchal? Mitchel? Mitchaeel? How do you pronounce your name, boy?”
“… 'Mitch', sir.”

– Gerald and Mitcheal, during Mitcheal's job interview.

Mitchael is the yin to Gerald's yang. The up to his down. The anachronism to his finely-crafted novel set in 18th century France. Mitchael is the cliched, young, idealistic kid⁴⁾ on the Enquirer's staff. Well, he was. Eventually, he became, through Gerald's… Geraldness… a cynical bucket of resentment.⁵⁾ The two are a comedy duo⁶⁾, Michael is the decent-guy straight man Gerald bothers, and Gerald is the stupid one with the power. Despite this, Mitchael sticks with the paper out of some misguided ideals about “the value of information” and possibly “loyalty”.

A reporter! Suspected communist. Might be Mitchael's tortured soul manifesting as a person. Has written one thing for us.

A class of particularly expendable sub-human creatures, closely related to the “Undergraduates” of legend, but willing to work for much less money. In fact, they don't get paid at all! A few of them are rumored to have names, but that's just ridiculous.

The last line of defense between lies and the Imprima– erm… the printing press, and, eventually, the impressionable readership. Not known to hang around Ask Full Metal Loin. Or really, most pages. One day hopes to be an investigative journalist who rides around on a motorcycle.

Rumours about a group of thugs that suppresses other, non-Enquirer sources of printed news are vehemently denied. In reality, the thugs just bake the rest of the staff pies. Tiny, tiny, pies.⁷⁾⁸⁾

Besides the articles, and the Table of Contents the Enquirer has

• The surprisingly active letters to the editor section
• The rarely-changed Classifieds^{9)10)11)12)13)}
• The extremely rare editorial
• The… community art spotlight gallery? Eh, whatever. It's The Gallery of Shame
• Two columns. They are Ask Full Metal Loin and Nocturnal Submissions, aka Harpo's Book Club and Sundry. The first is partially discontinued, due to most of the letters sent in to it being needed to patch a leak in the roof. The second requires such a pile of literature that it has already collapsed once, killing one intern and maiming two more. Please write to your favourite columns responsibly. We have only one editor, after all.^{14)15)16)17)18)}