HUMOUR

CHANGING rooms are carefully designed to make you feel repulsed by yourself, the items you are considering buying, the whole concept of clothing and the world, it has emerged.

Along with maddening layouts and disdainful staff, the harsh overhead lighting is chosen to confuse, demoralise and shatter all self-esteem, making shopping less a leisure activity and more an existential assault on the soul.

Changing room designer Eleanor, not her real name, said: “We pick ultra-harsh light fixtures usually associated with evening sporting events and position them six inches above you.

“The resulting aggressive glare makes your semi-naked body look as dusty and cratered as the surface of the moon while casting shadows on your lined face that make you look at least a decade older.

“The longer you stand starkly illuminated against a dun wall like a prisoner of war, the lower your will to live. You’ll move from asking why this dress makes you resemble sweating cheese through abandoning all social events to never leaving the house again.

“We want our customers to feel like disgusting little blobs in petri dishes being observed through microscope by judgemental gods who will write them up for the Mail’s sidebar of shame.”

Customer Hannah, not her real name, said: “I really appreciate how changing rooms put me off ever buying or wearing clothes again. However I’m unsure about it as a business model.”

MANY aspects of modern dating are weird and distressing, even ‘happy’ relationships. Here are some nightmare partnerships the digital age has served up.

Therapy-speak Gen Zs

Can you even call them a couple? They prefer to be referred to as a stable situationship or an anxiously-attached ambivalent pairing, but rest assured you’re going to hear about it in f**king detail. You start to wonder if they’re aliens – do they know you can have sex using your genitals, or do they just spend all their time together analysing things?

Fitness freaks

Often spotted out on morning, evening, and possibly even smug nocturnal runs, this couple lives to punish themselves. With their main topics of conversation limited to reps, sets and targets, they probably only have sex to get their heart rate up. ‘Was it good for you?’ probably requires them to check Strava.

Business buddies

They didn’t so much date as connect over work, which they love, and together have become the final boss of boring with their own brand of business blandness. They’ll need to ‘circle back’ on their plans for dinner, but after ‘touching base’ they can confirm that sex is ‘a deliverable’.

#CoupleGoals

The Insta-worthy duo never misses a chance to document the inane details of their lives together. Expect entire online sagas about matching outfits and buying each other dull gifts. Worse, they might feed their endless content mill with cute coupley ‘pranks’, although ‘humiliating your partner and filming it’ seems more accurate to you.

Edgy creatives

Ready to crap condescension into any conversation, this couple is convinced they live on a different plane to the rest of you normies. Your ignoble Netflix and chill nights could never match their penchant for Russian cinema or East London ‘algoraves’. Just knowing what those are should be punishable by being forced to listen to 5,000 hours of Val Doonican.

Together to split rent

The days of couples hating their partner should have ended with ‘her indoors’ boomer humour, but property prices are causing more miserable matches than ever. Listening to their barely concealed loathing will make you determined to be financially independent, or at least prepared to live in a tent by a lay-by in blissful singleness.

A WOMAN IN her late 40s who now rarely gets whistled at on the street by strange men is feeling a pleasant sense of relief, she has confirmed.

Hannah, not her real name, 46, had always imagined she would feel worried and regretful about getting older, but is actually finding she can get a lot more done without being constantly harassed.

She said: “When I was younger I used to worry about ‘losing’ my sex appeal, but honestly now I couldn’t give a shit, especially as it turns out that what society deems to be sex appeal actually translates as men shouting out ‘Nice tits, love!’ when you’re just trying to post a letter.

“Now that I’ve reached the ‘invisible’ age, I can go about my business in peace, without worrying about being judged either positively or negatively for my clothes, hair, weight, face, shoes or any other arbitrary nonsense.

“It’s a bit like having a superpower. Imagine all the shit I can fuck up whilst going completely unnoticed by the patriarchy. Maybe I’ll get together an army of similarly ‘invisible’ women to help me.

“The world isn’t going to know what’s hit it.”

THE fashion decisions of a 48-year-old man are still dictated by his belief that blue is for boys and all other colours are troublingly feminine.

Joe, not his real name, of Leeds, owns 18 polo shirts that range from powder blue to navy blue to slightly darker navy blue and admits other colours leave him feeling confused about gender.

He said: “I was brought up to believe blue meant boy and pink meant girl. End of. I don’t know why other blokes think it’s acceptable to sport colours like orange and burgundy.

“I’m all for expressing your identity, but where does it end? One day you’re wearing a purple T-shirt, the next you’re talking about your feelings. It’s a slippery slope.”

Wife Ellie, not her real name, said: “I bought him a forest green jacket for his birthday and he got really weird about it and said he felt like he was in Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.

“The one time I got him into a maroon V-neck he looked awkward and uncomfortable all evening, like one of those dogs forced to wear a little raincoat.”

Joe insists he is not insecure, just a ‘colour traditionalist’, adding: “These so-called modern men in salmon shorts keep telling me colours don’t have gender. But if that’s true, why is the pink Power Ranger a girl?”

A TEENAGER has forced society to reflect on its shortcomings and hypocrisies by wearing a keffiyeh neck scarf.

Joshua, not his real name, 17, has issued a damning indictment on the state of the world by stepping out in a patterned neck scarf with tassels that clearly singles him out as a free-thinking radical.

He said: “People usually wear this kind of scarf in the desert, yet here I am rocking it in Plymouth. Take that, societal expectations.

“I could have wrapped a normal scarf around my neck and done a better job of protecting myself from the cold. But then how would everyone know I’ve skim-read The Communist Manifesto Wikipedia page?

“By wearing this scarf I’m showing everyone I’m a Che Guevara-esque revolutionary. Although instead of overthrowing a dictator with guerilla warfare, I’m off to get the bus and browse the £1 DVDs in CEX. Assuming mum gives me a tenner.

“If enough people see me I reckon this sick capitalist system should come crashing down by dinnertime. Which works for me because I’m broke and can’t be bothered to get a job.”

Passer-by Jack Browne said: “I was a normal, functioning member of society until I saw Josh’s scarf. Now I’m off to petrol bomb a bank.”

A NEW survey has found that despite their reputation for cuddly chat and homespun wisdom, the majority of those aged 60 or over are glum, boring moaners.

Research found that socialising with elders had far fewer moments of twinkle-eyed cross-generational bonding than expected, and far more pointless reminiscences, complaints about medical conditions and staring grimly at daytime television.

29-year-old Tom, not his real name, said: “My grandfather thinks I should be interested in everything he says because of his ‘experience’. He spent 45 years doing accounts for self-employed contractors in Barnsley.  Experience of what? Tax returns pre-decimalisation?

“His first house cost the same as a second-hand microwave does now, his ‘funny’ work stories would easily double up as testimony at a tribunal, and apparently his triple-locked pension doesn’t stretch to giving me more than two custard creams.”

Carolyn, not her real name, aged 35, agreed: “People venerate the old because not long ago they were all WWII veterans who saved the world from Hitler. Not anymore. Now they’re mostly boomers who still think the 60s went too far on women’s rights.

“They’ve contributed bugger all except for Brexit, and the only wisdom they can impart is how to hill-start a Morris Traveller which is not currently relevant. They can piss off.”

86-year-old Roy, not his real name, said: “We’re not boring, we’ve got loads of stories. Did I ever tell you about when petrol was 40p a gallon? Because it was.”

ARE you tired all the time? Doctors believe they have hit upon the incredible solution of you shutting the f**k up about it.

Deluged with thousands of patients complaining of tiredness, usually those in mid-life with small children, demanding jobs and lengthy commutes, the medical profession has focused its efforts on the issue and developed a radical new treatment: silence.

Dr Helen, her real name, said: “It’s an epidemic. Some days, every other patient I saw was complaining of TATT. We had to act decisively so we could see people with real problems.

“We’d tried diet, we’d tried vitamins, we’d tried anti-depressants and still the same whingers kept coming back as if fatigue was a condition I could fix with a pill if I just tried hard enough. Finally, in desperation, I prescribed a course of shutting up.

“The results were remarkable. It felt like a burden was lifted. And the patient’s family, friends and co-workers all said the same. Even the patient themselves, when expressly forbidden to bang on about how uniquely tired they are, had no complaints.

“It’s possible they even feel less tired. Who knows? The rest of us don’t have to anymore, which qualifies this as a miracle cure.”

Sufferer Thomas, not his real name, of Exeter said: “But now I’m forced to talk about subjects other people are interested in, like films or the weather. And that’s agonising for me.”

PARTNER endlessly scrolling on her mobile? Ever wondered if she’s being entirely honest about what she’s looking at? Here’s the uncomfortable truth.

‘Just catching up on Insta, babe’

It’s Tinder. She’s not that into you and knows it won’t last, so she’s keeping her options open. Unlike you, who thinks you’ve found the love of your life and recently asked her to move in. That romantic marriage proposal you’re meticulously planning won’t end well either. It all feels so unfair, but at least she’s having to swipe through thousands of absolute twats.

‘Just catching up on the news’

By which she means stalking your presence on her friends’ social media profiles. She bloody well knows you fancy Sally, and if there’s a single heart emoji on any of her Facebook profile pictures she’ll find it and you’ll be in the shit. You’ll protest your innocence – too bad you’ve forgotten scrolling while shitfaced a fortnight ago and leaving a heart and three wows on four of her pics.

‘Nothing much, just browsing’

Online shopping. There will be a tsunami of Vinted parcels delivered over the next fortnight, which she’s syphoned the cash for from that joint savings account you set up for a holiday to Greece next summer. Which she knows you won’t be going on, because she’s planning to dump you right after Christmas once she’s had your presents.

‘Just my sister texting again’

The sister who works in her office and is called Niall? He’s been sending her interesting, friendly texts slightly too consistently for it to be innocent. As a man you can instantly spot his ulterior motives, but you can’t really admit to having done exactly the same thing yourself, particularly as it reminds you of not having much success.

‘Aww, this video of a kitten, it’s sooo cute!’

Tragically, she’s telling the truth. Tragic because she’s about to sit next to you and force you to watch it, right in the middle of Match of the Day. You’ll be obliged to feign interest and avert your eyes from the TV just as your team scores that 89th minute winner against United. And the kitten wasn’t even one of those super-adorable fluffy ones anyway.

PARTNER endlessly scrolling on her mobile? Ever wondered if she’s being entirely honest about what she’s looking at? Here’s the uncomfortable truth.

‘Just catching up on Insta, babe’

It’s Tinder. She’s not that into you and knows it won’t last, so she’s keeping her options open. Unlike you, who thinks you’ve found the love of your life and recently asked her to move in. That romantic marriage proposal you’re meticulously planning won’t end well either. It all feels so unfair, but at least she’s having to swipe through thousands of absolute twats.

‘Just catching up on the news’

By which she means stalking your presence on her friends’ social media profiles. She bloody well knows you fancy Sally, and if there’s a single heart emoji on any of her Facebook profile pictures she’ll find it and you’ll be in the shit. You’ll protest your innocence – too bad you’ve forgotten scrolling while shitfaced a fortnight ago and leaving a heart and three wows on four of her pics.

‘Nothing much, just browsing’

Online shopping. There will be a tsunami of Vinted parcels delivered over the next fortnight, which she’s syphoned the cash for from that joint savings account you set up for a holiday to Greece next summer. Which she knows you won’t be going on, because she’s planning to dump you right after Christmas once she’s had your presents.

‘Just my sister texting again’

The sister who works in her office and is called Niall? He’s been sending her interesting, friendly texts slightly too consistently for it to be innocent. As a man you can instantly spot his ulterior motives, but you can’t really admit to having done exactly the same thing yourself, particularly as it reminds you of not having much success.

‘Aww, this video of a kitten, it’s sooo cute!’

Tragically, she’s telling the truth. Tragic because she’s about to sit next to you and force you to watch it, right in the middle of Match of the Day. You’ll be obliged to feign interest and avert your eyes from the TV just as your team scores that 89th minute winner against United. And the kitten wasn’t even one of those super-adorable fluffy ones anyway.

AN office worker has exposed his lack of mental faculties by describing the solution to a complicated work problem as a ‘no-brainer’.

The use of an annoying informal term in a corporate environment has confirmed the suspicions of Martin, not his real name, colleagues that the interior of his skull is devoid of sophisticated thought processes.

Co-worker Sofia, not he real name, said: “I always thought Martin acted dim to avoid responsibility. Like when he claimed to have never heard of Microsoft Excel.

“But only an actual imbecile would pipe up in a town hall meeting to describe a company merger as a ‘no-brainer’. You could tell from his proud face that he thought we were all laughing with him, not at him.

“Then he doubled down by telling the CEO to bang some heads together, knuckle down, and make some bloody magic happen. I wish I could say he didn’t pretend to do a mic drop while saying ‘bosh’. I really do.

“It’s not very PC, and I sound like a hypocrite, but I’ll be using no-brainer to describe Martin going forwards. It just fits.”

Martin said: “I’ve been inspired to finally send off my Apprentice application. I reckon I can go all the way.”

YOUR boss is unfairly expecting you to work at your desk without falling asleep after you have eaten lunch, it has emerged.

The expectation has been condemned by everyone on your team because it is unreasonable to demand productivity once you have eaten two Greggs sausage rolls and a packet of salt and vinegar Hula Hoops.

Colleague Helen, not her real name, said: “I struggle to get anything done before lunch, let alone afterwards. Those last few hours are a always complete write-off.

“And yet I’m still getting invited to meetings and being questioned about my KPIs as late as half four. Even though by that point the entire workforce of the UK is practically unconscious.”

Co-worker Martin, not his real name, said: “This is exactly the sort of cruel treatment that unions used to protect us from. Afternoons are for dossing around on Facebook and sacking off early, everyone knows that.

“I like to wangle out of afternoon work by heading out for lunch then never coming back. Why else do you think pubs open around then?”

Boss Tom, not his real name, said: “It’s really hard setting a standard I don’t live up to myself and getting everyone to go along with it. That’s why I’m paid 12 times more than you.”

A WOMAN has dumped her boyfriend because of a list of faults she has yet to discover are endemic to the male sex.

Eleanor, not her real name, aged 26, ended her relationship with 25-year-old Tom, not his real name, because of unpleasant traits she will soon realise are inherent to his entire gender.

She said: “He farts. He scratches his balls. He believes five hours in the pub is a ‘great night out’. I’m pretty sure he’s looked at porn and maybe even liked it.

“He’s uncomfortable talking about his feelings, is far too into football, he stares at other women’s breasts and once addressed me as ‘mate’ after sex. He’s more passionate about the Iranian embassy siege than he is about me, and used my enriching shampoo on his dog.

“I cannot possibly be with someone who ignores coasters, belches and believes washing his sheets once a month is perfectly acceptable. Other men aren’t like this. I just picked the worst one.

“I’m sure dating apps are filled with gorgeous, rich, monogamous and sexually skilled men eager for commitment who’ll treat me like a princess. Pretty sure I’ll never have to put up with any of that nonsense again.”

Tom said: “I was smashing that relationship. I cooked dinner twice last year.”

ARE you worryingly close to the age of 50? Here’s how you’ll suddenly realise you’re really quite old.

Everyone has mysteriously got younger

You could always rely on your boss, famous people and politicians being older than you, the crusty old farts. Not any more. Rishi Sunak is 41, for f**k’s sake, and he’s the sort of square bastard who probably enjoys a ‘wild’ game of Pictionary.

You notice your libido is f**ked

More a problem for men, who will long for the time when they got an awkward, embarrassing erection on the bus at the slightest provocation, eg. a poster of the Cadbury’s Caramel Bunny.

Imminent total physical collapse

You were never exactly as fit as Daley Thompson (who is one of your outdated 1980s cultural references). But now kneeling down to clear out a kitchen cupboard is a punishing workout accompanied by a paranoid fear that you may never get up again.

You suddenly remember all your horribly naive ambitions

Cringe at unrealistic youthful ambitions like becoming the next Steven Spielberg with no film school experience. Then feel even worse as you realise you’ll probably never even get round to piss-easy things like visiting the Isle of Wight.

Homely things have taken over your life by stealth

Your priorities used to be going out on the piss, advancing your career, getting a shag, and maybe clubbing and drugs. These days you get all the gratification you need from changing into your slippers and perusing your burgeoning collection of loose teas.

You realise you’re not even a proper 50-year-old

You haven’t even got the mundane perks of being 50 you once sneered at, like a mortgage, kids and an unnecessarily large car. You’re still renting a flat and your only ‘assets’ are an old Playstation and numerous pairs of too-tight jeans.

HOME from the pub but don’t want the party to end yet? Behold, five questionable mixers you can make without nipping back out to the corner shop.

Red wine and Irn Bru

Sometimes a bottle of Sainsbury’s own brand Merlot just isn’t cutting it, and you need to add a Scottish edge. Watching Four in a Bed alone in a drunken haze on your sofa at 3am, you’ll seriously consider serving it up at your next dinner party. If you had dinner parties.

Baileys and Horlicks

Horlicks was once marketed toward infants and invalids, but with winter coming you can give it a festive edge. It’s like drinking a Malteser that gets you even more mashed than you were when you thought of it.

Vermouth and Vimto

Until needs must, it might never have occurred to you to pair a highbrow botanical-flavoured fortified wine with an unbearably sweet berry drink from your childhood. However while drunk you will realise your concoction is a work of art and consider licensing it to London’s most prestigious hotel bars. They will undoubtedly pay hundreds of thousands.

Tequila and dandelion and burdock

F**k knows why you’ve got a bottle of the stuff but it’s a chance to kill two birds with one stone: finish off the dregs of the tequila you did shots of for your 30th and chuck out that poncy glass bottle that’s been staring at you from the fridge for six months. A bottle containing the juice squeezed out of f**king dandelions. It’ll be, er, herby.

Midori and milk

Makes total sense because they both begin with ‘M’. At least it does to your addled brain, with common sense and the ability to remember things long gone. Sure, it sounds as though the flavours might not go together, but it could be a surprise. Waking up to find the bed covered in lurid green puke certainly will be.

A MAN on holiday with his girlfriend does not realise she, her colleagues, her friends, her family and the night shift at an M&S Food in Portsmouth are waiting for him to propose.

After 32-year-old Tom, not his real name, suggested an October break with Hannah. Not her real name, , his girlfriend of three years, she immediately informed nine different WhatsApp groups this was surely it.

She said: “He suggested I get my roots done before we go. Somebody’s thinking about the engagement photos!

“I’ve chosen the Instagram caption, gotten a manicure and put my bridesmaids on red alert. I asked innocently if Tom had bought anything new for the hols and he pointed to his Adidas sliders. Such a tease! But how sweet that he wants it to be a surprise.

“He leaned over to whisper to me on the plane and I thought this could be it, but it was to to suggest sex in the toilets. Then when I asked if there was a question on his mind, he said ‘Who would win in a fight between a duck-billed platypus and a platypus-billed duck?’

“Pretty sure he was going to pop the Q in the restaurant last night but another couple did it first. He looked at them with such disdain, for ruining his plans presumably.”

Tom said: “She’s being all weird. I stopped to tie my shoelaces and she started sobbing ‘this is so unexpected!’ They’re f**king lace-ups, though.”

HELLO, I’m Miss Traherne. I’ve written it on the whiteboard for you. Today we’ll be learning about the inevitable downfall of the ruling class, like Mr Farage says.

Now Kayden, can you tell me who owns that table in front of you? Is it yours? No, it isn’t is it, otherwise you’d have to take it home with you every night. Could you carry that? No.

Is it Elsa’s table? No, it isn’t. It isn’t any of yours. It’s shared by all of you because it belongs to the state, which provides it for the greater good. It’s everyone’s table!

Just like it’s everyone’s chairs, and everyone’s whiteboard, and everyone’s crayons. No that doesn’t mean you can take crayons home, Kaylee. You’ve misunderstood and are acting like a capitalist needing re-education in a gulag.

Now, wouldn’t it be better if the state provided everything? Everything would be free to play like Fortnite but other players wouldn’t be able to buy all the K-Pop Demon Hunters skins while you’ve only got an outdated Neymar one. Wouldn’t that be fairer?

That’s what a wonderful man called Karl Marx taught: fairness. And that’s what we all strive for here because in a fair world, everyone can do what they like. No you can’t go to the toilet whenever you want Ruby, that’s anarchism and completely different.

Now not everyone is a Marxist. One of those men is Mister Farage, who you must never vote for. I shall be assigning homework about that to make sure it goes in. Colour in this picture in a way that shows you hate him.

There we are, that’s our lesson all about Marxism! This afternoon is maths, in which we’ll learn that Reform’s figures don’t add up but nice Green Mister Polanski’s don’t have to.

Okay, playtime! Remember, play equipment is assigned from each according to his ability and to each according to his needs! No pushing Willow. We don’t want to give you another show trial.

EXPERTS have warned that a new financial crisis which you did nothing to contribute to but will f**k you right up is coming, so bad luck.

The predicted crash due to Trump’s policies and overinvestment in AI – both of which you vocally opposed but it isn’t up to you, is it? – means that from next year you cannot afford to run a car.

Market analyst Anthony, not his real name, said: “Oh dear. Hard times ahead because of this AI bubble. What do you mean it’s nothing to do with you? It’s your money we invested.

“The good news is we in the City made a great deal out of it, commission and suchlike, so we’re protected from its worst effects. The bad news is that you won’t be. Redundancies are expected. Belt-tightening, all that. Hope you’ve set three years of salary aside!

“You haven’t? You’re still reeling from the credit crunch? Yes well you should have known better than to allow your pension fund to go large on subprime investments. Actions have consequences. We take the actions, you suffer the consequences.”

Martin, not his real name, of Macquery, a gay Scottish Bank said: “I know capitalism’s good because iPhones, but we seem locked into a boom-and-bust cycle where the boom happens to others and the bust happens to me.

“You do know I’m still shopping at Aldi? That I never made the step back up to Tesco? Is anybody interested in that? Hello?”

ANYONE with a job is likely to have witnessed managers gushing about AI then quietly ditching the idea. See where your employer is in the cycle of AI hype.

1. Insane enthusiasm

Every aspect of our lives will be transformed by AI and you’re going to be on the cutting edge, your boss assures you. This is based on seeing some moderately realistic pictures of kittens having a birthday party.

2. The first bold steps

You attend meetings about how AI will ‘supercharge’ your business. Enthusiasm is high, and you feel a bit Silicon Valley. You start taking an interest in AI generally and read articles by credulous journalists who don’t appear to realise Elon Musk is a pathological liar. There are undertones of being in a cult, but people forget cults give you a lovely sense of belonging. You love AI.

3. No one can think of anything for AI to actually do

It turns out AI doesn’t have any obvious uses for your company. Apparently a kitchen worktop supplier in Reading doesn’t need a real-time global translation service like Microsoft. Your boss responds by finding unnecessary projects for AI to do in a classic case of ‘technology looking for an application’. At least your clients will be getting video Christmas cards this year with Avatar-standard graphics.

4. Doubts creep in

Heretical thoughts begin. Are companies just pumping their share price with AI? Did anyone ever decide what AI was actually going to be for? Are tech bros full of shit? You note that Zuckerberg thinks we’re going to wear AI glasses bombarding us with trivia that wankers will just use to try to chat up women, eg. ‘Did you know we’re 365.55 million kilometres from Mars, Emma? Makes you think, eh?’

5. AI plans get downscaled

Eventually your company decides to use AI to process invoices a bit faster, so you won’t be conversing with Deep Thought every day or getting a cool robot buddy like K-2SO. It’s good that AI will be helping the company, but it’s a kick in the nuts when you thought Joi from Blade Runner 2049 would be waiting for you lovingly at your desk every morning.

6. You grow to hate AI

Your new AI tools have teething troubles, requiring endless tweaks and forcing you to redo things. Combined with incessant AI bullshit in the media you start to hate the whole thing. You long to work in a low-tech office of the 1950s where the only technology you’re expected to engage with is a pencil sharpener and it’s fine to have lurid yellow teeth from smoking.

7. AI is quietly dropped

Suddenly AI is never spoken of, like a deformed child in the basement, and your company gets on with doing things the way you’ve always done them, on Windows Vista. That’s not to say AI hasn’t profoundly affected your business; you’re still spending countless man hours asking ChatGPT ‘Write me funny jokes about cocks’ and making hilarious images of your colleague Gavin as a xenomorph.

NOBEL Prizes are being given out, but do not impress Britain’s many idiots who believe anything they fail to understand is simple. Wayne Hayes explains why they’re bollocks:

The Nobel Prize for Physiology and Medicine

This year some egghead won it for ‘immune tolerance’ research. Looking for the next lucrative scam after Covid, aren’t they? When it comes to medicine, you need to do your own research. I’d suggest you start at www.thegreatcovidhoax.com. It’s totally legit because the guy running the site cured his Covid with pencil shavings and Play-Doh.

The Nobel Prize for Physics

Apparently made a quantum computer, or whatever. The games were just as addictive on a ZX Spectrum. People go on about how confusing quantum mechanics is, but all it means is there’s really tiny particles and in other universes, dinosaurs are in charge. What’s hard to understand about that? I’d vote for a dinosaur if he had the right policies on tax.

The Nobel Prize for Literature

How difficult is it to write a book? Think of a story then put in a load of flowery language. Look: ‘The fields was burnished all beautiful green the colour of lovely traffic lights. “I wish I wasn’t fighting in World War One tomorrow,” uttered Pete.’ Took me 20 seconds. Sure, a whole book is bigger, but it’s just a matter of putting the hours in, like knitting.

The Nobel Prize for Chemistry

Did it in school, it’s just dicking about with Bunsen burners. Thatcher invented soft-serve ice-cream and didn’t win it, which shows it’s political and a scam. Same with all these qualifications like PhDs – they sound impressive but you build up gradually from one to the next one, like Couch to 5K. Even that fat bastard Jeff next door managed that.

The Nobel Peace Prize

How can you have a prize for peace? If you win it for not starting wars, it could go to anyone: Amanda Holden, Alan Shearer, 1970s pianist Bobby Crush. None of them have standing armies. President Trump’s asked for it and be fair to him, he’s been in for nine months and not one invasion. Good lad.

The Nobel Prize for Economic Science

Economics is simple: spend less than you earn and you’ll be alright. My mate Gav f**ked up with his credit cards and I wouldn’t want that happening to Britain. That’s why we’ve got to stop spending on stuff that doesn’t make money, like benefits, and focus on stuff that does like the Strictly format. Do I deserve a Nobel Prize for that? Honestly, why not?