HUMOUR

A 28-YEAR-OLD man is delighted to be diagnosed as having ‘anxious avoidant attachment’ by the enthusiastic amateurs on his girlfriend’s group chat.

Rubin, not his real name, who had previously thought of himself as a straightforward sort of bloke who occasionally has a nap, was happy to learn several women he had met briefly had developed a comprehensive psychological profile of him.

He said: “Apparently these women, none of whom have any qualifications but I’m told Marie is very good at matchmaking, have identified a pattern in my behaviour dating back to childhood.

“Thanks to some Instagram reels and a podcast clip, these layman psychologists believe I am commitment-phobic, emotionally unavailable but inexplicably clingy and suffering from a fear of abandonment. Which seems a perfectly rational thing to fear.

“Apparently saying ‘whatever you want, babe’ to restaurant suggestions is a manifestation of my fear of losing control. And I stand accused of ‘weaponised incompetence’ because I forgot our anniversary. I didn’t know we had one. We’re not married.

“Yet for all their expertise regarding the male psyche, they still can’t explain why I get irritated when she asks what I’m thinking and then becomes upset when I tell her it’s football. Sometimes it’s not about her. Very often it’s about Everton.

“Sophie says I need therapy. But I’m already getting it for free against my will in a group chat full of women who claim 20 minutes of silence is a ‘quiet plea for help’.”

WISTFULLY staring at manual workers imagining they have it easier than you? Any one of these good, honest careers would cause your underpaid limbs immense pain:

Gardening

Nothing beats leaving the rat race for a job where you literally touch grass. Charlatans like Monty Don has convinced idiots that gardening is a form of mindfulness and artistic expression, overlooking how much of it is digging, sawing, clipping and lugging around literal sacks of shit. A fortnight of it and you’ll hate plants.

Bartending

Ever been an a night out where you’re not drinking and everyone else is? F**king awful, yeah? That’s every night as a bartender. Spending every night with lager-breathed arseholes and pretending to like them is a skillset office workers simply do not have because they are those arseholes, every Friday night.

Farming

Not everyone wants to follow their primal agricultural instincts, though financiers with untaxed nest eggs are powerfully attracted. The romanticism of owning a farm is sullied by the perpetual whinging farmers are legally obliged to do, about foot-and-mouth or milk prices or the bloody weather. But you’ll be enough like Clarkson to be admired by bigots.

Carpentry

Why not do a reverse Harrison Ford and go from six figures to sawing door jambs? Your current job may not be Hollywood but after a few months at a lathe it will f**king feel like it. Dovetail joints look sexy on Instagram but are an absolute bastard in practice. You’ll wish you were back at your desk, ignoring fine examples of woodworking all around you.

Nursing

After watching The Pitt while commuting, you surely know most of what’s covered in a decade of medical studies. And there’s enough cool in being a caregiver to carry you through graveyard shifts as miserable as an annual conference. Where else but A&E would you find sex toys lodged in funny orifices? Annual conferences, actually.

Scaffolding

Inhaling second-hand vape fumes for eight hours straight is not worth it for being four storeys up. Nor is the risk of an early death worth all-chat about which Marvel superhero has the best tits. It’s hard, all-weather, exhausting, labour. You’ll stare in at offices and wish you could be in there with them. And it’s Captain Marvel, definitely.

MEETING an old pal you haven’t seen in years only to find he’s not only sober, but proud of it? Here’s how the long, long evening will inevitably pan out:

Awkward conversation

The talking used to take care of itself as the pints went down. Now it’s just you on the Stella because he’s moved on as, it seems, has any spark of interest he once held. Nod sagely as he waffles about work, his kids’ educational prospects, and how much better off he is physically and financially now he’s off the booze. Take frequent sips.

Time crawling by

It feels like he’s been detailing how his garden office is set up for hours. How can it only be minutes? Why did you arrange to meet so early? To give you more drinking time. At least three hours lie ahead and it’s only going to get harder. Finally you understand how women feel on dates.

Making a pint last an hour

Not drinking isn’t an option, but nor will getting drunk help. Nothing worse than being hammered while a man who used to party explains how he trained for a charity bike ride. And he’s judging you for every pint, so you’ve got to draw it out. It’s been an hour, you’re only halfway down it and you’re actually getting thirstier.

Try and remember something to tell him

What have you done since 2019? Well, there was… lockdown… you got an air-fryer… Christ, your life can’t be this uneventful. If you were both drunk incidents would be flying out, but now he’s given up the sauce and, coincidentally, become unbearably dull you can’t think of anything he would consider news. ‘We’re thinking of getting solar panels,’ you slur.

Think of excuses to leave

Got work in the morning? No, it’s a Friday night. Feeling ill? He may question why you’re already on your fifth pint. Need to relieve the babysitter? No, you already told him your wife’s looking after the kids in return for a good bottle of Merlot. You can’t think of anything. Maybe another drink will help.

Get dragged for a curry

‘Pubs bore me,’ says the man who’s failed to understand the reason they exist, and so he suggests a curry. And now you’re in an environment where most people are sober it becomes apparent how smashed you are. Beating yourself to death with the poppadum tray will be a long and difficult process but you’re out of options.

A WOMAN has been presented with a seemingly spontaneous bouquet by her boyfriend. What has he done? Grace Wood-Morris investigates:

He’s forgotten something

Unless I’ve forgotten one of our significant celebration dates, which I haven’t, he must think he has. But which? I shall accept the flowers haughtily, letting him know he’s done wrong, and wait for him to give himself away later.

He’s bought impulsively

Or he’s compensating in advance for an unwise eBay purchase. Could be anything from a life-size Ultron to a new car. Either way, he knows he’s sinned and this is woefully inadequate as compensation. I’ll retaliate by getting myself that Jigsaw dress that’s in my basket but I had not yet bought, because I am a saint.

He wants a holiday with the lads

The group chat is alive with rumblings of a lad’s trip away. It may have developed into an actual plan, hence the flowers. I’ll get straight on it and report this bouquet to the girls and cross-reference for other suspicious boyfriend behaviour. They’re not going anywhere. But thanks for the flowers.

He loves me

It would be so romantic if he’d been at work thinking about how much he loves me and how much it hurts him to be away from me and that’s why he bought flowers. But based on his track record that’s unlikely. My spontaneous gifts in the relationship so far are a can of Fanta, chocolates he got given by work and a hoodie of his I kind of stole.

He’s cheated

James isn’t the cheating kind, which I know because there’s a tracking app on his phone. Could he have left it at work and snuck out to a hotel for anonymous sex? No, he’s not got that level of planning in him. He can’t even book a citybreak without checking with his mum.

No reason at all

After exhausting all the possibilities. I’ve come to the conclusion that he has bought me flowers for no reason whatsoever. How utterly f**king thoughtless, I deserve better than that.

A TWO-HOUR Monday morning meeting has ended with all participants drained, shaken and unable to explain what went on.

Boss Nei, not his real name, sent a calendar invite last week for a ninety minute ‘team huddle’, which was later extended by half an hour for reasons unclear either on the invite or, according to survivors, in the actual meeting.

Dazed facilities manager Emma, not her real name, gulping down a black coffee, said: “What the f**k was that?

“I know there was an agenda at the start, and someone must have been taking notes, but I cannot tell you who or why or what about. All I know is that within 20 minutes up was down, black was white and I was barely clinging to my sanity.

“I went in there with a pretty decent idea of what my role is, I think. Now I can barely remember my own name. Was I fired? Am I meant to be doing something now? Has lunch already happened or not?”

Neil said: “I know my team, and they can’t stand quick one-on-one chats or briefing emails. They really function best in a large group, where we cover a lot of ground and everyone gets a chance to speak, especially me.

“I hope they feel like it was sufficiently detailed. We’ll reconvene late on Friday afternoon to pick up where we left off. I’m sure all of the points from the last meeting will have been actioned. Even if I’m a little vague on what they were.”

A WOMAN has hilariously given her boyfriend the illusion of choice while deciding which restaurant to eat at.

Jessica’s partner, Anthoy, not their real names, was excited to be brought into the discussion, foolishly believing his answer would in any way affect the decision that had already been made hours previously.

Jess said: “It was so funny watching Ant carefully consider the options as if it meant something. I hate to compare him to a dog being trained to press the right button for a treat, but that’s what he is.

“I allowed him to consider the local Chinese restaurant, a steak house he liked the sound of, and a salad place I favoured that was the correct choice. As I gently closed down the options with bullshit reasons like us having steak a month ago he really thought he was choosing. It was adorable.

“It’s not manipulative, we’re just one of those lucky couples with incredibly similar tastes. It’s just that Josh doesn’t always know that at first.”

Ant  said: “It’s strange because initially I wanted a steak but then I completely changed my mind. Which was the right decision because the trendy new salad place was lovely, and honestly a lot more filling than I thought.

“Jess and I always make decisions together, but sometimes I have to put my foot down, like last night when I really wanted salad, not a juicy 12-ounce steak with chips.”

THE French have a lower retirement age and free universities because they’re not afraid to set a shop on fire. They would riot over any one of these British shit sandwiches:

Southern Rail

The disgrace of Southern Rail’s late-running, extortionate service is so monumental that Britain simply cannot confront it. A Frenchman experiencing its knackered rolling stock would head straight to Whitehall with a can of patrol. Thankfully they’ve been deterred from visiting and witnessing our national disgrace by centuries of simmering hostility.

Meal deals

If you’re confused as to why the paprika crisps shelved right next to the sandwiches aren’t included in your lunchtime meal deal, think of our continental neighbours. If they were told the items in their hands were not part of the deal, the till would be through the window in moments and Boots awash with tear gas before ten minutes had passed.

Porn age-verification checks

Erotic imagery is every Frenchman’s God-given right. Every trip to the boulangerie, patisserie or tabac is enlivened by seeing at least five tits. The thought of scanning your face to gaze upon a fanny?  Their reflex for writing angry signs would kick in. They’d sooner surrender to the Nazis again than give up easy access to female nudity.

Axing the triple lock

Thanks to organised violence, the French people have kept their retirement age down to 64. And that’s after a lifetime of toiling through four-day weeks with two-hour lunches. Threatening the triple lock would be good for at least one head-of-state decapitation and a fortnight of looting, if our shite high streets had anything they’d want to steal.

Oat milk

Our calling the crap we cook ‘food’ has enraged our Gallic neighbours for decades, but at least it came from solid animal-cruel sources. To make milk, milk which masquerades as being from the cow, from oats? Paris would be in flames before the furiously-discarded disposable coffee cup had hit the cobbles.

Comparative lack of riots

Traditionally, the UK holds riots during the summer. This alone would have French people taking to the street to overturn bins. ‘No riots?’ they would cry, ‘But then how can this be called a functioning democracy? We riot… for the riots!’ Not that you’ll understand, because your entire knowledge of French is ‘Hello, my name is John, thank you.’

MANY countries arrogantly claim their cuisine is better than anywhere else. Here are the top six cuisines which are alright but not f**king life-changing.

6. Turkish

It’s a strange claim by Turks that their food surpasses all others, given it’s basically kebabs and chewy flatbreads. Sharma, shish, all just meat of questionable origin on a stick. Baba ganoush? Aubergine slop that looks like it came out of a nappy. And shepherd’s salad is just tomato, onion and parsley. Those shepherds must be f**king starving. Dead, probably.

5. Italian

Italians are so up themselves they forget their supposedly brilliant food is little more than pasta made from flour, bread and sloppy rice. Pizza is claimed to be as revolutionary as Giuseppe Garibaldi, when all it is is cheese and tomato on dough. You’d be better off making a toastie. If rice cooked in slop then laden with cheese to make it taste of something is your thing, risotto has your back. They don’t even do chips, the misguided arrogant twats.

4. Japanese

Raw fish and seaweed is about as far from top-drawer grub as it’s possible to get, but that doesn’t stop the Japanese unfathomably thinking it is unrivalled the world over. Little bits of uncooked Nemo might look pretty, but you’d have to be a f**king psychopath to consider putting it in your mouth. What right-minded human being wants to chow down on the staple diet of a bloody crab?

3. American

The USA thinks it’s the best in the world at everything, when in reality they only excel at pointlessly remaking films and electing incontinent narcissistic loonies. They think a ‘seafood boil’ sounds appetising, and their burgers, hot dogs and shit fries are all swimming in pollutant E numbers, bleach and industrial hormones. Perhaps if they weren’t always off their heads on chemicals they’d think twice about doing mass shootings.

2. French

The British dislike of the French could be regarded as silly, but the Napoleonic Wars were only 211 years ago, which is nothing compared to the dinosaurs. And their arrogant claims about having the greatest cuisine don’t help. Frogs’ legs? Snails? If you’re going to eat stuff from the garden you may as well throw in a sparrow and a plastic plant pot. It’s no wonder all those dinghy people don’t want to stay there and eat shite when they could be in Blighty with chips and a battered saveloy.

1. All that Scandi shit

Norway, Iceland, Sweden, it matters not, the food claims to be healthy and sophisticated when in truth it’s utterly disgusting. Meatballs and cream dwell at opposite ends of the culinary spectrum for a reason, but here they are sharing a plate. Nobody has a clue what a lingonberry is, other than it sounds like something you should check for before a date. And as for pickled herring, what the actual f**k? The one benefit of it being pitch black half the year is at least you can’t see what’s for dinner.

AGED 22? Sad about it? So obsessed with being disadvantaged by previous generations that you need to pay a stranger to listen to you talk? Here’s how:

Find the best

Never mind that you live at home, you’re traumatised and deserve the best, not mum’s friend Jackie who’s training to be a counsellor. Don’t stint and be sure to delve deeply into finding out exactly why it is that you, aged 23 and masturbating quietly so your parents don’t hear, feel depressed. Who understands your tough choices like: Deliveroo or Vinted?

Get careers coaching

Find a provider who’ll group therapy with career coaching, charging £300 an hour for vital self actualisation exercises and AI generated advice on AI job applications. When you get all that, avoid resentfully thinking you could tell strangers to ‘leverage their transferable skills’ and earn £50 a hour by focusing on your debts instead.

Discuss your feelings of failure

Why does someone who can’t afford a pint feel a failure? Clearly you have unresolved childhood trauma and imposter syndrome. That’s a 15-session problem, paid upfront. It’s an investment in your future, as was that highly valuable degree in Art History and Film Studies.

Don’t compare yourself to others

Yes, an influencer on TikTok has bought a flat in Shoreditch at 21 and claims it’s by cutting out McDonalds. But we all know there’s some weird foot pics shit lurking there and that’s too oversaturated a market for you to get into now. Though it is still necessary you sob to a stranger about it.

Explore your relationship with money

Why do you feel anxious every time your banking app opens? Why does seeing ‘£4.62 available’ cause your heart to race? Why have you started treating £10 like an heirloom? Your therapist will encourage you to unpack your ‘scarcity mindset’. You can’t put a price on mental health, you reassure yourself, while subject to exactly that.

Work on your boundaries

Learn to say no to things you can’t afford, such as holidays, weddings, restaurants, festivals, pubs, taxis, house deposits and having children before the age of 41.You’ll also learn to set healthy boundaries with your parents, including asking them to stop mentioning that £30 you borrowed.

Identify your coping mechanisms

You may have developed unhealthy coping mechanisms, such as doomscrolling, drinking supermarket own-brand wine or therapy you can’t afford. Your therapist will encourage healthier alternatives. These include journalling, mindfulness and taking a walk in nature. Instead you tell her you’ve done all that and stay in.

A MIDDLE-AGED man who wants a girlfriend in her 20s realises it is possible but she is unlikely to be the finest physical specimen.

Tom, not his real name, 48, would ideally like to date a 25-year-old knockout but accepts that her having options would be an obstacle to their relationship.

He said: “The apps let you filter for age but sadly not for beauty. I’ve written ‘young at heart’ on my dating profile because it clearly doesn’t apply to my body, which now makes weird noises both when coming and standing up.

“My youthful partner needs to be fun but not immature, confident but not intimidating, attractive but not vain, independent but still have time for me and, most importantly, have absolutely no interest in men her own age. Also she should insist on paying for herself. But strangely that’s proving hard to find.

“So I’ve accepted that her attractiveness may have to be dialled down. I’m prepared to accept facial features that may not be entirely symmetrical, or maybe even plain. It’s a big concession but I’m decent enough to make it.

“She needn’t be stick-thin either. She can have some fat, maybe even a slightly noticeable tummy. And for the breasts I’m prepared go down to a C-cup. Finding a mate is so much easier when you’re not a superficial guy.

“The main thing is she hasn’t yet reached 30. After that stage they grow opinions and that’s really unattractive.”

PLAYING a guessing game about them is a great icebreaker with women at parties, probably. But bear these things in mind to avoid being told to f**k off instantly.

Guessing their age

Women are coy about their age, so a complimentary guess is one that’s way too low but not impossible. Try 12 years. And don’t try to be Sherlock Holmes by noting details like her uniformly consistent hair colour and basing a clever guess on that. Really this is just a process of feigning disbelief as she says ‘no’ to your too-low guesses. If you guess her age correctly first time you may find yourself chatting to the wall.

Guessing how many sexual partners they’ve had

Probably best played after a large number of drinks. If you guess high you’re basically calling her a top-drawer slag or a prostitute, and too low sounds like an unflattering assessment of her looks. Guessing ‘seven’ is pretty uncontroversial, even if you don’t believe it for a second, but she may still take umbrage for some reason. Frankly if you’ve initiated this game with a high chance of offence, whatever number you pick won’t be notched up by one tomorrow.

Guessing their dress size

If you’re feeling full of Dutch courage try this. If you don’t guess two sizes below what your actual assumption is, you’re in deep f**king trouble. Never say a number ending in a teen, and if you have to for the sake of basic realism, remember no woman in the UK is larger than a 14. Arguably it’s an unwise subject for a guessing game, but it’s not like you asked her her weight. That would have been rude.

Guessing their nickname at school

Even if they didn’t have a proper nickname, imagining what it would have been is fun, assuming you don’t immediately put your foot in it and suggest ‘ginger minger’. It’s also likely their nickname was based on a physical trait they hated, so don’t say ‘Concorde’ even if it was obviously that. Keep the guesses flattering, because they can guess your nickname as revenge. ‘Specky Bender’ is hurtful, especially if that was your actual nickname until the age of 16.

Guessing the kinkiest place they’ve had sex

Again, this has the potential to be taken as an insult, because what’s daring or kinky to you might be downright disgusting to her. So don’t say: against a pub wheelie bin, in a public toilet or in her parents’ bed when they were downstairs watching The Voice. It’s a fine line between being an entertaining conversationalist and a grubby pervert.

Guessing where they’ll be sleeping tonight

This is pretty obviously trying your luck, so you’d better be sure you’re really hitting it off with her. Unfortunately after being subjected to your guessing game, the correct answer is likely to be ‘Not with you’.

MEETING someone new and middle-class? They may assume, seeing you in your Reiss suit, that you’re just like them when actually you’re better. Drop in these class markers:

Mention your dad was a roofer

It doesn’t matter what you’re discussing: Brexit, sushi, penguins or the novels of Elizabeth Strout, it’s relevant. It’s even better if you say ‘is’, suggesting he cannot afford to give up work even into his 60s. They don’t know he’s got his own firm and sits on his arse all day.

Explain your mum doesn’t get what you do

Unlikely, considering your job isn’t that hard to comprehend. It’s more a reflection of the fact she can’t understand why they pay you for that when you’re always pissing about at home. But it hints at the drama caused by your rise from a terraced house to the heights of digital services advisor.

Call school ‘the comprehensive’

Force it in even if it wasn’t in the school’s name. Act as though your perfectly pleasant state school was rife with guns, gangs and knife attacks. To be fair there was once a fight in the playground. Wait, no, a dog. There was a dog in the playground.

Emphasise your lack of learning

You wish you could understand the world like the well-educated – things like quinoa, financial instruments, the plays of Sarah Kane – but you can’t, because of your schooling. Admittedly that was because you skipped lessons to smoke, but surely that’s society’s fault? To this day, it’s hurtful how little you know about Molière’s comedies.

Exaggerate your accent

Even if your area doesn’t have a particularly charming rural accent, you can put on a general Cockney lilt, like a child in a 1950s film. Your attempt to deploy it at the garage for a lower rate on a new exhaust is unsuccessful. He must have gone to public school.

Punch them hard in the face

None of it working? Resort to violence, then explain that was how people communicated in the harsh cobbled streets where you grew up. A clip round the ear was affection, a punch was an expression of camaraderie and being knocked to the floor and stamped on was a warm embrace from a beloved grandparent. That should get it through to them.

HI-TECH eyewear used to film women without their knowledge is unfairly besmirching normal bespectacled peepers and voyeurs, it has emerged.

Wearers of Meta smart glasses are following unsuspecting women and uploading humiliating footage to the internet for cash, with the backlash punishing traditional deviants who follow women around for nothing but their own honest entertainment.

Old-fashioned lecher Joseph, not his real name, , wearing NHS spectacles from the 1980s, said: “They accuse me of filming women. Me! Who wants nothing more than to sniff their bus seats!

“Yes, I’m short-sighted. Yes, I wear glasses with comically thick lenses. But when I stand close to a pretty lady and breathe heavily, it’s because I want to actually experience it in the moment not share it online for likes.

“It’s sad, really. These sickos with their secret cameras are turning the simple act of staring at a lone female while rubbing your groin into something weird and creepy.”

Police tech expert Sgt Bates, not his real name, said: “Meta glasses are a real societal problem. We’re suddenly seeing video evidence of all of these instances of sexual harassment and it’s clear that we’ve got to take action.

“It was so much easier to ignore when all we had was women’s word for it.”

NEW to dating apps? Confused by the phrases all the long-term singletons who long ago lost all faith in love are using? Find your way with this guide:

‘New here’ means ‘Recently dumped’

Dating apps are haunted by the sad, lonely wraiths of society doomed to never find companionship. Nobody stumbles in happily, no matter how cheerfully it’s phrased. Being new to a dating app means a previous life of happiness has imploded and now you’re in the trenches of loneliness with everyone else in the radius you’ve arbitrarily set.

‘Want children’ means ‘You are a means to an end’

Taken at face value, someone saying they want children is refreshingly straightforward. But look closer. The singleton in question is edging toward 40. There’s a manic glint in her eye which suggests this is her last roll of the dice. If you meet up, she will be trying to harvest your genetic material within hours, once you’ve provided proof of earnings.

‘Figuring out my dating goals’ means ‘I want to shag around’

Everyone has a decent idea of what they want out of a relationship. If someone says they’re still figuring it out, it means they want to up their body count before they settle down. Unfortunately in this case he’s a balding man in his early 40s called Darren, so he has to dress up his urges so women don’t realise.

‘Looking for long-term relationship, open to short’ means ‘I’m desperate’

Being open to anything is to admit you’re scrambling. They want a committed relationship for life, but they’re so starved of love that they’ll settle for a couple of dates and hoping you’re so impressed by their oral skills you’ll tumble into marriage. An easy lay if you’re so inclined, but expect tears after. Or during.

‘I don’t take life too seriously’ means ‘I am insufferable’

This harmless phrase suggests a zest for life, surely? Wrong. People who use this are non-entities who think going for a Sunday roast counts as a spontaneous adventure. They also usually claim to not be political, which means they’d be the first person to report you to the secret police should fascism get going again.

BORED at work? Have you considered hating one of, or all of, your co-workers for reasons they would consider petty but you call unforgivable? This should get you started:

Iain’s lunch had a mild odour

He sits within your line of sight and if that wasn’t bad enough, he dared bring in something more exotic than a cheese sandwich for his dirty little midday meal. And he made you watch. Begin with passive-aggressive sniffing and coughing, and glow with inner fury whenever he strays toward the microwave for eight years thereafter.

Marie used the printer for too long

Despite the fact that everything is now on G-suite, Microsoft 365, or East 17 these days, a fellow employee was at the printer the one and only time you needed to use it. Hogging it. Did she gracefully step aside when confronted with your urgent hover? She did not. So you must deliberately go slowly when she’s waiting behind you from now until 2032.

Louise laughed too hard at a manager’s joke

Pathetic little suck-up. Guffawing, in a meeting, when everyone knows they’re not for fun or productivity but to engender despair, self-loathing and the urge to put one’s hand into a blender. You would never demean yourself by trying to enjoy being at work and it’s well worth resenting that cow for doing so.

Connor drank the last of the milk

It may seem like a small, impolite accident, but this devastating betrayal is in fact worse than Kim Philby, Judas and David Harbour all combined. Two pints is more than a quid now. Act swiftly, rally others to your cause and judge what pitiful over-sweetened pseudo-beverage your nemesis wasted the precious liquid on.

Jill sat at your desk

Technically it isn’t your desk because hot desking. But while its ownership might not be recognised in a court of law, spiritually and emotionally it is your safe harbour and your home. And she thinks she can steal it? F**k about with her chair when she isn’t looking.

That girl who didn’t know who you were

That disrespectful intern is the epitome of why their generation don’t deserve jobs or to ever retire, with their f**king iced coffees. How dare they not recognise how supremely importa

RESEARCH has found that the older you are, the guiltier you feel about taking time off sick. And it can definitely cause some deeply irrational thoughts, like these:

‘It’s morally wrong’

Does taking a day off sick even count as a moral or immoral act? Not unless you’re skiving off to commit a murder, in which case you’ve got more to worry about than what your boss thinks. Also, disposing of a body would be horrendous with this cold.

‘I must sound ill on the phone’

When phoning in sick, it’s almost impossible not to put on a feeble voice and give a little cough to prove your case. It’s unnecessary and frankly a bit silly. What’s next? A video call while you’re sitting on the toilet making vile noises to prove you’ve got a tummy upset?

‘Will I get the sack?’

The classic paranoid sickie thought. Get a grip and imagine your boss explaining it to their boss: ‘A staff member I have no real complaints about, who takes a normal amount of time off sick, claimed to have a flu-like illness common in the UK, so I fired them.’ ‘Excellent work, Emma, that’s how to run an effective business.’

‘I am betraying my co-workers’

Yes, Gavin and the others are heroically battling through a normal workload while you fail to do your duty like a coward. Oh, hang on, you’re an office worker, not a squaddie abandoning your mates to die in a Taliban attack. You wouldn’t need to lose weight if you were.

‘Will someone come and check on me?’

Might your boss dispatch a colleague to your home? Not unless they are deranged and seriously overstaffed, and even then it’s probably illegal harassment. Your ill, paranoid brain can’t accept this, so you do the sensible thing of sitting away from a window and trying to look miserable instead of laughing at the comforting YouTube shite you’re watching.

‘I wish I had a more serious illness’

Are you ill enough to justify taking time off? It’s a question you’ll be obsessed with for hours, until you wish you were suffering from something clear-cut like a broken leg. Hopefully your next sickie will be the result of being hit by a car, you reason. Your horrific injuries will mean you can relax then.

‘They’ll discover they don’t need me’

Could your job actually be done by your colleagues, and you’re paid tens of thousands of pounds a year unnecessarily? Clearly ‘yes’, because modern companies are notorious for employing way more staff than they need. That’s why they keep you entertained at work with dancing girls and an office jester.

COMPLAINING about people behind their backs yields better results than talking to them directly, scientists have found.

Research showed that while being more cowardly, bitching is a safer way of venting your frustration than telling someone how awful they are to their face, which could get you punched or fired.

Professor Frost, not her real name, of the Institute for Stories said: “Evidence suggests bitching is an evolutionary advantage. None of our ancestors ever got mauled for secretly slagging off a predator.

“Bitching is probably why humanity learnt to talk in the first place. Not to express needs or abstract thoughts, but to mock the sabre-toothed tiger skins the neanderthals in the cave next door are wearing. Civilisation as we know it has these snide comments to thank.

“However confrontation escalates until one side backs down or dies. The only risk associated with bitching is when someone grasses you up. And even then you can lie your way out of it if you’re a nasty little creep.”

She added: “Plus you can bitch from the comfort of your sofa with a big bottle of wine. What more proof do you need?”

Researcher Karen, not her real name, said: “We’re confident our findings are accurate. Unless Hannah f**ked up her data again, but what do you expect from a lazy cow like her?”

STARTING at university? You will meet so, so many middle-class girls, usually studying psychology, that you fancy. But they will also have these infuriating traits:

Not fancying you

While wilfully being attractive, the nice girls suddenly surrounded by are annoyingly sensible about who they sleep with, and how long it takes them to decide to. Is it too much to ask that universities are required by law to include ‘ease of getting laid’ in their prospectuses?

Having oddly-named friends

Hang out with middle-class-verging-on-posh girls and you will discover a social circle filled with Arabellas, Octavias, Harriets and maybe even a Jocasta. Worse are the nicknames: Minty? Cheski? Boodie? Were they made to swap names with their horses?

Making the most of university life

Nice girls fling themselves into activities such as rowing or the debating society, tempting you to follow. But nobody, however lovely, is worth getting up at 6am to sit on a cold, wet, miserable river for. Or worth listening to smartarse debates by 18-year-old twats who want to be Tory MPs for.

Questionable music taste

Uni has always been about being into cool bands, but trying to pull a girl devoted to an artist who was her favourite at her Gloucestershire grammar school is work. After your third Idles gig, you’ve been preached at so much you’d rather go to f**king church.

Having privileged existences

Young women at the upper end of the middle-class affluence scale do not realise it. It’s disconcerting when they say ‘You mean you’ve never been to Santa Fe?’ totally aghast, as if you’d just admitted your family lives in a sewer pipe.

Their alternative lifestyle choices

All students explore alternative choices at uni, not least middle-class girls finally free of their parents. Typically that means veganism or New Age woo, both equally hard to put up with. Eventually you will say ‘No, Olivia, I am not going with you to the Cornwall Festival of Druidism.’

Already having boyfriends

It’s disappointing in any circumstances to discover someone you fancy is attached. However at least at university this is the smallest romantic challenge you face, because as everyone knows sixth-form boyfriends last until mid-October.