HUMOUR

A DESPICABLE bastard of a boyfriend is on thin ice after being openly unsure if the person his partner is telling an anecdote about is an obviously malevolent idiot.

Hannah, not her real name, came home from work furious about an outrage committed toward her and only required the man who is supposed to love her to give his full, uncompromising support which he singularly failed to do.

She said: “I was telling Joe about this twat at work who did something utterly moronic, as usual. He already knows the backstory. His role could not have been clearer.

“But in the middle of what I was saying, just as the extent of her malice was about to become apparent, he cuts in with, ‘Well, it sounds like Mary was just trying to help’.

“I explained he does not know her, has no idea what she’s like, and added that if that is how he feels maybe he should just go to Mary’s house and tell her since clearly he loves her and wants to shag her. What an absolutely useless prick.”

Boyfriend Allan, not his real name, said: “According to Hannah, she said the meeting notes needed writing up, it wasn’t specifically delegated to Mary, she did it anyway but nobody had told her what format to use. I failed to see the villainy in that.

“I thought this would show I was actually listening to the story, not just mindlessly agreeing. I see now that was a mistake.

“Thankfully, Hannah’s being completely rational about it and has asked if I want Mary’s, who’s 62 and married, home address so I can tell her how great she is and we can arrange a tryst.”

STAFF who will find any excuse to have a few drinks after work strangely never celebrate employee of the month awards, it has emerged.

Employees who are happy to drunkenly socialise for the birthdays and leaving dos of people they barely know have an odd lack of interest in recognising a colleague being good at their job.

Sales executive Martin, not his real name, said: “I think part of the problem is it’s more of a burden than an actual prize. A poisoned chalice, if you will. Except they’re too stingy to give you a chalice.

“You only get ‘preferential’ treatment that would delight the worst sort of corporate drone, like being asked your opinion on shitty work strategies and having the boss sit on the edge of your desk asking which minion is deserving enough to be the next recipient.

“The unlucky winner gets their fake, smiley ‘Meet the team’ webpage photo plastered on the wall in the corridor leading to the toilets. You also get a tacky trophy with a gold briefcase on top for a month. You don’t even get to keep it, not that you’d want to.

“The borderline alcoholics I work with will go for a drink for anything: birthdays, training days, even baby showers. Christ, last month we got pissed to celebrate Darren buying an air fryer. But employee of the month never results in going to the pub. It’s weird.”

Office manager Hannah, not her real name, said: “Now you mention it, it is strange that our office never celebrates employee of the month. But I think we can put that down to them usually being a loathsome, arselicking little crawler.

“That’s not a criticism, by the way.”

IDLY scrolling through your banking app, you begin to wonder what the f**k all these monthly payments are actually for. These are the bastards bleeding you dry:

Gym membership

Signed up to following a bad photo of yourself three years ago. Last attended in June 2025. The £36 a month has stayed significantly more committed than you did.

Hinge+

Upgraded in a low moment to see who’d liked you. It was one bot and a man called Gaz, aged 51, holding a large fish.

The Economist

It’s still unsure who you the f**k you thought you were when you signed up to this. The unread pile is now as high as the toilet bowl.

Quibz

You’d never heard of this streaming platform before but signed up for a free trial to watch a single film. Two weeks later it renewed into an annual plan and you’re now a Quibz Platinum member.

Drizzl

Another streaming platform. Never heard of it. Another free trial. You are apparently Drizzl Elite.

Zumo

Yet another streaming platform. The only evidence this one even exists is your monthly payment.

A document-scanning app

Used once to scan a parking permit. Inexplicably £180 a year. Nobody has ever found the option to cancel.

A financial management app

You subscribed to an app to help get rid of all your subscriptions and all you ended up with was another subscription, because you are incapable of learning.

Extra cloud storage

£2.49 a month for 200GB, 190 of which is screenshots of memes from a group chat you dearly wish you could leave.

A meditation app

You downloaded this in the hopes of reducing stress. The most recent payment put you into your overdraft.

A parking app

Required by a car park in Basingstoke you’ve never been back to. Charged you 30p to avoid a ticket, then 99p a month ever since. The car park is now flats.

Adobe something

You needed to edit one PDF for work. You are now subscribed to a suite of professional creative tools used by Hollywood studios.

A razor subscription box

Five blades and beard oil arrive monthly. You’re unaware of this because your downstairs neighbour steals them.

Super Duolingo

You think you might have known how to introduce yourself in French the last time you used this, but can’t be sure. Quel dommage.

A vitamin gummy subscription

A box of suspiciously colourful gummies turns up for an immune system you can’t ever remember worrying about.

Antivirus software

Renewed itself for a third year to protect a laptop you recycled last summer.

A WOMAN who is only offered a selection of lunatics and perverts on dating apps has been asked why she always picks the wrong men.

Hannah, not her real name, friends regard her romantic history as a personal failing, despite every app featuring the same rotating cast of commitment-phobes, crypto evangelists and men whose profile picture still includes a fish.

Hannah, 36, said: “They say ‘you need to stop choosing the wrong type’ as if I keep ignoring emotionally intelligent millionaires who do Pilates in favour of a 45-year-old who lives with his mum and calls himself a ‘men’s rights activist’.

“Do they honestly believe I want to spend time with a man who refers to his penis as ‘Little Pete’, as he explained to me in Pizza Express? Or guys who think your lovemaking won’t be impaired by worrying you’ll catch something off the sheets?

“I am wading through a sea of shit while smug marrieds who’ve been off the market since 2012 send me reels about ‘anxious-avoidant attachment’ and ‘manifesting healthy love’.

“They should try having fulfilling relationships when the only options are weird liars who clearly aren’t six foot, even in their massive platform trainers. Or the guy who had seven kids by seven different women because his genes are ‘too good to waste’.”

Shortly afterwards Tomlinson was matched with a man claiming to be a wealthy porn director scouting for new talent, which was both undesirable and unlikely for someone who appeared to live in a Transit van.

A TRAINEE bartender who asks questions like ‘sorry, what’s a Guinness?’ cannot wait to serve thirsty patrons during his shift covering this evening’s England’s match.

Ineffective, bumbling Jack, not his real name, was pleased to see his first go at pulling pints, processing card transactions and figuring out who should rightfully be served next would take place during England’s first group game at a pub showing it live.

He said: “I haven’t had any training, and it’ll just be me because everyone else has already called in sick, oddly. Still, should be fun!

“Everyone will have to bear with me because I don’t know my way around the bar or recognise the difference between an IPA and a lager. But I’m sure the cheerful atmosphere of a high-level football competition will improve everyone’s patience.

“I asked my boss if he thought it would be busy tonight and he laughed, so I’ll take that as a no. Should I struggle to hear orders I’ll just turn off the telly for a minute. That should quell any rowdiness.”

He added: “If it starts to get out of hand I’ll switch over to BBC Two. Only Connect’s on. Though I worry that will make the regulars a bit competitive.”

By England fan Anthony from Enfield (not his real name)

WHY should it be Norway? If there’s any nation known worldwide for descending on countries in boats and taking them over by force, it’s surely us.

But instead we’re seeing the fans of our opponents tomorrow all over the US doing their Viking row as if they’re the ones with a proud history of global conquest. When in fact their pillaging warriors barely made it out of Europe.

Don’t get me wrong, it was good violence for its day. Loaded up in longboats and hitting the Northumbrian coast like a modern-day stag do hits Riga, drinking and burning monasteries and chatting up the local girls. All credit to them and their imaginative tortures.

Can’t really hold a candle to the English though, can they? Because when it was our turn to be seafarers, we didn’t waste it. India, Australia, Africa, the West Indies, even Australia. We came, we saw, we conquered and we let them bloody well know it.

Yeah, the Vikings martyred a few saints with the blood eagle. I’m not denying them that. Hardly compares to forcing the indigenous peoples of half the world to toil away in our gold mines and sugar plantations, does it? If we’re honest?

The sun never set on the British Empire. From the Irish next door to the ends of the earth we had them all in thrall. So if Norway’s allowed to be proud of its past of massacres and atrocities, why aren’t we?

Instead of a Viking row we could have, I don’t know, a man with a whip. Maybe not that. Or we could line up like the soldiers in Zulu, miming rifles on our shoulders, firing into the native horde. Okay maybe not that either.

Anyway, you get my point. It’s time for our football fans to reclaim our past with a fun but inoffensive ritual dance of some kind. I’ll leave it to the hardcore England supporters to decide what. We can trust them not to be racially insensitive about it.

NONE of the advances in technology of the last half-century have made it any easier to enter text via a remote control.

A technological black hole means anyone attempting to search for a film or TV show has to enter it letter-by-letter as if they were putting their initials by a Space Invaders high score in 1980.

Jim Bates of Congleton said: “I tell speakers to play music and they do so. I type a destination into my car and it shows me how to get there. But on my TV?

“There’s no slick user interface. To find a movie on Netflix I have to mash down flimsy rubber buttons while it brightly suggests movies that are not what I want or close to it. All the others are the same.

“Even on the PlayStation, a controller with at least 30 different inputs demands I do it one letter at a time. Why does all pretence of being user-friendly stop at the telly? Why has it remained in the Ceefax era?

“Every site online’s always checking I’m not a sophisticated bot buying tickets or logging into my bank account. They should get these f**king bots working on the telly. Then maybe I could watch Insidious 5 without first having to look up how to spell it.”

Technology expert Jack Brown said: “Now most of our technological agency is given over to machines it’s important to have such instances of human independence, even though typing in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness gave me an embolism.”

With Jess, not her real name, your Gen X TikTok beauty influencer baffled as to why they haven’t put stem cells in her night cream

GETTING older is a natural process and nothing to be ashamed of. And if you believe that, please exit the dating market and go to an open space to die.

But, in a 21st century so aging for those of us unfortunate enough to be born in the last one, it’s not just women who need to be eternal. It takes only 3.14 seconds for a woman to clock your weird gnome features and suboptimal height. Ample time to fix it with make-up products like these.

All men want to be taken seriously on the world stage, and who’s taken more seriously than JD Vance? When those dark-rimmed peepers lock on you, he’s exactly like the Red Light Green Light girl in Squid Game, only with more arbitrary deaths.

You too can wield power like this with JD’s go-to kohl pencil: L’Oreal’s Black Death Vector Injector in shade Erotic Necrotic, currently available on subscription only. But to enter the lottery to be put on the waiting list is only £85 a month!

And you’re rightly embarrassed about your weak jawline. But you can go from Gail Platt to R-Pattz in seconds with the actor’s own line in men’s contouring: The Bat-Mandible Structural Reconstruction Protocol, available on the darknet for just 22 bitcoin.

As for the hair loss? Hey, it happens to all men apart from the rich, famous ones. Have you considered going to Turkey? Then normal people wouldn’t have to see you.

Also, if you’re a Gen X man? Stop going on about the 90s, they weren’t that great, it’s creepy that you listen to Olivia Rodrigo, we can all tell you drink, getting your nipple pierced was a mistake then and is a mistake now and stop dating 20somethings.

I’m here like I always was, waiting to be claimed like a hold-all full of Primark underwear at a lost luggage auction, only much, much dirtier. You should never have left me.

A 25-YEAR-OLD taking a gap year to find who he really is has inconveniently done so in a service station on the way to the airport.

Rubin, not his real name,  plan to travel the world immersing himself in the philosophy and culture of exotic, and coincidentally cheap and sunny, countries was derailed when he suffered a sudden epiphany in a Burger King overlooking the M1.

He said: “I was expecting to find enlightenment on Ayahuasca in the Peruvian jungle or meditating with monks or whatever. Not staring at a promotional poster for Toy Story 5 Whopper Meals.

“But I realised that who I am, deep down, is an uninteresting British man who even at Angkor Wat would wish he was on his phone, and I came to peace with that.

“I told my dad I was cancelling my ticket and spending the year in my room instead and he must have had the same epiphany as me, given the deep, heavy sigh of happiness he let out.”

He plans to spend 12 months on the sofa eating chips, which being in a yurt dodging dengue fever and shitting into a bucket would have made impossible, and will spend the money saved on buying a really big television and noise-cancelling headphones.

Rubin said: “The Buddha spent decades searching for nirvana but I realised I want to do sod all with my life in less time than it takes to watch an Avengers film, so who’s the idiot?”

‘SHREKKING’, or being rejected by someone less attractive, is the latest bollocks Gen Z dating term, so what’s next? Any of these five are reasonable contenders.

Tescoing

Tescoing will refer to those relationships where you want to go out with someone more high-maintenance but you’re too poor. Instead, you’ll resort to whoever is convenient yet still offers a reasonable romantic experience. It won’t feel incredible, but at least you’re not dating the human equivalent of Happy Shopper.

Librarying

You’d be forgiven for thinking that librarying will refer to dates that are kept hush-hush. Not so. Instead, it will describe people who forget they have a date, then keep renewing their sweetheart’s interest at the last minute before incurring incremental emotional fees. Currently this is described with the words ‘lazy’, ‘forgetful’ and ‘twat’.

Adrian Chilesing

Inspired by his deranged newspaper columns, Adrian Chiles-ers are those people who attract you against your better judgement with the weird shit they come out with. One day they’ll be banging on about their frustrations with cheese rinds, the next they’ll be waxing lyrical about their fascination with Punch and Judy. You’ll never figure them out, and that’s part of their strange appeal.

Chessing

Dates that move in specific, pre-determined ways will be referred to as chessing. These relationships will also be slow-moving, a bit of a headache, and your friends will get bored of waiting to see if they actually go anywhere. After what feels like forever, they will grind to a halt and both parties will walk away in a huff.

Uber Eatsing

This will refer to those times where someone arranges for a date to arrive at their front door, before hooking up with them then feeling bloated and ashamed the next morning. Said hook-ups will be sworn off, unless the singleton in question hasn’t had them round for a few months and they’ve had a tough week at work.

LEWIS Hamilton has done his bit to go ‘Instagram official’ with Kim Kardashian by posting a picture of her. It’s not the only online dating trend we’re all supposed to be doing.

Throning 

Dating someone to raise your status, which in the social media sphere means finding a partner with lots of followers and ‘clout’. This surely rarely happens in real-life, because under these weird new rules of attraction Margot Robbie would be shagging Mr Beast, and thank God she’s not.

Going Instagram official

Just the idea is hilariously stupid: there is NOTHING official about putting a picture on Instagram, and it certainly doesn’t entitle you to child maintenance or half of someone’s house. It’s like saying you’ve committed an Instagram murder by posting a picture of a gun.

Puffer fishing

Like a puffer fish, this date becomes defensive if you get too close. You don’t really need the tropical fish metaphor here, since there are plenty of perfectly adequate terms already, such as ‘fear of intimacy’ and ‘refusing to commit’. And let’s not forget ‘not being that into you’ and ‘losing interest once he’s got his leg over’.

Chalance dating

The opposite of ‘nonchalance’ if you’re stupid, and it means being serious about dates rather than having casual ‘situationships’. Good luck explaining this wanky, obscure term, because if you say ‘Situationships weren’t working for me, so I’m into chalance dating now’ any sane person will think ‘Jesus, what a bellend’, which isn’t conducive to sex.

Identity certainty

A sensible precaution of using online tools to verify that someone is who they claim to be, and not a scammer, married or a serial killer. Could there be a more promising start to a date than knowing you’re not going to end up in a shallow grave in the woods?

Soft-launching and hard-launching

Celebrities are always doing this, but you suspect there’s not the same level of public interest in you shagging a friend of a friend. You’ve probably simultaneously soft- and hard-launched several relationships already just by going into a pub and saying ‘Guys, this is Emma’.

Loud crushing

‘Loud crushing’ is the practice of being open about a crush on social media rather than playing it cool. You’ve got a feeling this trend was invented by terminally online teenage girls, because if the average woman saw dozens of posts about her by a bloke she barely knew she’d be rightly concerned it was going to progress to ‘forcible chloroforming’.

Breadcrumbing

This is when a romantic interest gives you small amounts of attention, similar to how the children in Hansel and Gretel follow a trail of crumbs, but doesn’t take it further. An example might be suggesting you meet up but then constantly bombing you out. Although surely that’s just your normal social life?

A YOUTUBER turned filmmaker’s successful debut feature means tens of thousands of teenagers now believe they can do the same, wrongly.

Kane, not his real name, aged 19, has turned his web series Backrooms into a $141m hit movie, causing young, deluded contemporaries worldwide to believe their crappy efforts will be just as successful so they have no need to get A-levels or jobs.

18-year-old Jack, not his real name, said: “Every hot shot producer knows storytelling went out the window with Weinstein. Vibes are in now, and I’m the prime purveyor on TikTok.

“My parents will eat their words after my knowledge of niche online shit pays off. Who’s an idiot for being on 4chan until 4am now, mum? Not me when I finish my This Man screenplay and become a multimillionaire.

“As the old moviemaking adage goes, if you’re a creative teenager currently streaming videogames to an audience of between 12 and 18 people, the studios will come knocking. I think I’ll ask for a budget of $40 million. I only need $15 million, but they don’t know that.”

Mum Sandra Browne said: “The occasional flukey youth success unfortunately inspires a generation of idiots to imagine the cruel machinations of reality will not crush them, which they will.

“Jack is not a ‘digital upstart’ who will ‘reinvent content’ for the 21st century. He’s a lazy dick who got fired by Kebabylon for watching Instagram Reels in their backroom.”

YOUNG Britons are entering into three-way romantic and sexual relationships because they are a great way to keep rent and bills down.

Gen Z has confessed that going out with two people simultaneously is nothing but hassle, but a third income means a third person to split the cost of hummus with.

Marketing executive Sophie, not her real name, 26, said: “I make out it’s a wild adventure in ethical non-monogamy, but in reality the most arousing part is we can afford three streaming subscriptions.

“Everyone imagines the three of us sharing a bed in endless new erotic configurations. Actually we’re snuggling for warmth. It’s less PornHub fantasy and more the grandparents in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

“Plus two women on one dick means we get more nights off. What makes an ideal third? Mature, employed, solvent. Jayden has Tesco Clubcard points and a car. That’s a man worth going halves on.

“It’s a committed relationship, we’re paying council tax together. And there are never arguments about jealousy or trust issues, only about who used the last of the milk.”

Married man Martin, not his real name, aged 40, said: “I’ve been trying to persuade my wife to include a third in our relationship. But tragically, our earnings are high enough to comfortably pay the mortgage.”

SPONTANEITY is limited to people who have the financial means to go on exciting adventures at the last minute, it has emerged.

Research has confirmed that visiting a trendy restaurant on a whim or booking an impromptu skiing holiday to La Bresse is the preserve of high-earners and those with a sickening amount of inherited wealth.

Professor Frost, not her real name, of the Institute for Studies said: “The last time a poor person was spontaneous was in 2006. And they died shortly afterwards from the stress of having no money left.

“Unlike the wealthy, everyone else has to carefully ration their pennies for big expenses like a train journey in six months’ time, or for that matter a big bar of Dairy Milk. Even an unscheduled half could leave them struggling to afford shoes.

“If you can afford to impulsively swing by the cinema or have a weekend break in Madrid you’re in the top one per cent. Why not spontaneously donate some money to charity, or isn’t that fun enough for you?

“Going to Japan should be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, not something you randomly do next week because you’re bored. For normal people, being spontaneous is buying apple-scented washing-up liquid instead of their usual lemon. Provided it’s just as cheap.”

Well-off person Francesca Johnson said: “Have poor people considered owning a large property portfolio or being the privately-educated child of a celebrity? Then they could do whatever they want whenever they like.”

WHEN events such as divorce, redundancy and disastrous tweakments befall other people it’s natural to be excited. Here’s how to yap about it without sounding too pleased.

Choose your audience

Personal problems should be handled with sensitivity, so make sure you only tell people who are as desperate as you for all the gory details and therefore won’t notice your glee as much. It could be a mutual friend, family member, or, with the juiciest bad news, the whole of a train carriage while you’re telling your partner over the phone.

Talk about something else first

Barrelling in with news of misfortune is tempting, but could make you look too enthusiastic, bordering on callous. Ideally, open a conversation with harmless chat about something unrelated like holiday plans or the big woodlouse you spotted in your bathroom this morning. Then you can launch into The Big News without looking like a bastard.

Give the impression this is hard to say

You can also faff around a bit before you deliver the news to build anticipation. Say things like ‘I don’t know how to say this…’ or ‘I’m not sure I should be telling you this…’. Your gossip-based edging will have the audience desperate for joyful relief.

Express your own deep shock

While discussing the delicious trauma of someone else, establish that you were knocked sideways by the news. Emphasise how shocked/appalled/saddened (delete as inapplicable) you were to hear about this absolute banger of a bombshell involving an affair or holiday disaster. This will make you seem like a decent human being capable of empathy. Which of course you are; empathy makes the whole tale of woe more gripping.

Check that people want to hear the details

Of course they want to know every grimy, tragic detail of the gossip, but if you ask people if they ‘really want to hear this’ that makes them the sick one for ghoulishly wanting to know.

Stop to breathe between sentences

If the news is as thrilling as a perfect couple splitting up or a friend’s teen being arrested for arson, it can be hard to take a breath. Try not to garble your words, shriek with excitement, or talk so fast your body enters a state of anaerobic respiration. Calmness will convey that you are merely a reluctant vessel for this news, rather than its greatest cheerleader.

Ask people to keep it quiet

Discretion is expected in sensitive matters like these. When asking people not to spread the news further, try channeling the air of a diplomat handling a delicate political issue, or simply imagine you aren’t a horrible gossip. In truth it doesn’t matter, because you both know the listener will soon be revelling in someone’s husband turning out to be a regular at gay clubs in exactly the same way you are.

A SMALL child is allowed as much TV and tablet time as they like if they are watching an iconic BAFTA or Emmy-winning drama.

Caden’s, not his real name,  middle-class parents introduced the rule after noticing that content made for children lacked the challenging themes and overarching storylines that would set their child apart from the herd.

Mum Inge, not her real name, said: “The advice is to limit how many cartoons children watch in a day, but they didn’t say anything about acclaimed live-action series such as Succession.

“Shows like Bluey and Paw Patrol are just empty calories. To truly appreciate television as an art form he needs to see the greatest series of the last 20 years – The Wire, The West Wing, Mad Men. Don’t worry, we’ll circle back to Edge of Darkness and The Singing Detective.

“It’s slow-going, as he often doesn’t have the attention span to sit through the hour-long episodes, but so far he’s watched all of Breaking Bad and The Sopranos. I’ve promised him that if he’s good he can watch 3 Body Problem next.”

Caden, three, is now becoming an expert on key dramatic principles such as foreshadowing and making characters morally ambiguous rather than two-dimensional.

He said: “Tony Soprano is a bad man but he likes ducks. That means me hitting my sister is fine because I like our neighbour’s dog.”

THE parents of a teenager who opines on Bertolt Brecht and Brutalist buildings wish he would drink cider and vomit at bus stops like his peers.

Inge and Dave, not their real names, hoped their 15-year-old son Julian, who refuses to be referred to as ‘Jules’, was only going through a phase when he began blasting Shostakovich’s 7th through his speakers while ostentatiously flicking through books about Kandinsky.

Sue said: “We were prepared for vaping. We weren’t prepared for him wearing a black – sorry, charcoal – turtleneck while lecturing us on power structures in colonialist literature.

“When we worried about him mixing with the wrong crowd, we didn’t think it would be the attendees at a seminar on Composing Sonic Futures at the Barbican. We blame ourselves for calling him Julian.

“He downs a double espresso before school. He calls football ‘bread and circuses to pacify the proletariat’. He’s 15. He should be unconscious in a hedge, not telling the neighbours that their hedge is an outdated expression of English class anxiety.

“He scoffed at a man wearing Stone Island on the bus for ‘performing masculinity through consumer branding’ which is risky when he’s built like a bookmark.

“I was cleaning his room when I felt something under the mattress. It was Susan Sontag’s Against Interpretation.Annotated. Colour-coded tabs. I sat on the bed and wept. You hear about this stuff as a parent, but never think it’ll happen to you.”

Jules said: “Mum and Dad have suggested a lads’ holiday with my friends. A Bauhaus walking tour in Berlin beckons.”

THAT sickly, ingratiating grin isn’t for everyone. It isn’t for you. It seems to specifically be for women employed to serve him, like these:

Waitresses

Over she comes, asking if you’d like more drinks, and there his face goes. His voice drops an octave, his mouth contorts into a strange shape and his eyes meet hers with full force. He knows you’re sitting there but can’t help simper about how wonderful the Aperol spritz he was just whinging about is. She doesn’t react. She sees this every day.

Flight attendants

Children are less needy for attention than boyfriends on long-haul flights. She’s forced to endure his requests for pillows and flight information and has to remind him to fasten his seatbelt every time because it means she looks at his crotch. He spends eight hours with an insincere smirk screwed to his face, swapping it for a face like a slapped arse the moment he disembarks.

Nurses

Nursing staff are under enough pressure without having to deal with a man with an unnatural beam fixating on them. You can’t visit an elderly relative without him flashing a sordid smile at every one that passes and boasting of his own good health which, given the circumstances, is pretty f**king tasteless.

Police officers

There’s a little back-and-forth going here: his soulless smile is acknowledging her power over him but finding it sexy, while she’d love to club him unconscious but isn’t allowed. You’re the witness to this unsavoury interaction and keep being glanced at as if the nauseating expression on his face is your fault, rather than a borderline sex crime.

Barmaid

The woman pulling pints is the female worker your boyfriend saves his creepiest smile for. Because he’s in a pub, he thinks there’s an extra level of sickly behaviour allowable. Fortunately an in-built resistance to pervy boyfriends is part of the job and she ignores his fixed grim becoming a little more grotesque with each pint. She isn’t paid enough.

A 45-YEAR-OLD who exclusively dates women in their 20s while claiming they are ‘emotionally mature’ does not seem to have any male friends of that age.

Marketing consultant Anthony, not his real name,  was explaining the 20-something women he dates provide ‘fresh perspectives’, ‘wisdom beyond their years’ and ‘a refreshing lack of emotional baggage and cellulite’ when asked why all his male friends are his age.

He said: “Young women are fascinating. Goddesses who introduce me to new music, new ideas and it’s so cute that they don’t remember 2004.

“But young men? They mature later. They’re still filming themselves falling off things. What would we even talk about? Football? I prefer more intellectual pursuits, like telling 22-year-olds about my Porsche while staring at their cleavage.

“A 27-year-old woman is an old soul but still refreshingly carefree and not weighed down by the cynicism of age. That won’t happen for another three years. But a 27-year-old bloke is a f**king moron.

“His brain won’t even finish developing for another eight years. A 25-year-old woman, meanwhile, has an original outlook on life and incredibly firm…opinions. Firm opinions.”

“Any young girl – sorry, woman – who dates me recognises that she’s too sophisticated for guys her own age. Though if she turns me down she’s too immature to realise what’s good for her.”

TRIED to spice things up with dirty texts and been rebuffed? Here’s how to move onto a much safer topic: the British weather.

Tell your partner they misunderstood

When you asked if she was wet, what you meant was ‘due to the downpour we just had’. If you requested shower pics, you meant her in a charming mac caught in an April shower. Sadly you have now condemned yourself to receiving and commenting on ‘adorable’ pictures of her whenever she gets caught in the rain. Get ready with those ‘likes’.

Show concern

You only wanted to know what he was wearing to make sure it was climate-appropriate. The same with telling him he was ‘hot’. You just were trying to persuade him to wear a sun hat and cooling lightweight clothing. How could you worrying about heatstroke and dehydration be misconstrued as sexual? Shore up this gaslighting by asking if he’s ever been treated for sex addiction.

Blame the seasons and your allergies

Alright, you were a bit forward, but it’s the weather. The warmer temperatures have caused the flowers to bloom and release pollen and it’s made you delirious with hayfever. So let’s talk about that and not that dick pic you sent. Admitted this is the first case of hayfever to have the same effects as malaria, but you don’t have many options. Maybe you can convince her you accidentally dropped your phone down your trousers? No, that’s just as bad.

Turn your dirty talk into a weather report

For example: ‘After a warm front, things have turned rather chilly. There’s been a sharp drop in enthusiasm and earlier projections of heavy activity have now been downgraded to light drizzle at best. Conditions are tense but stable. Expect a long dry spell ahead.’ See, this is like a spoof weather report on a comedy show! Ha ha ha! Is he laughing? No, he’s thinking about dating someone less weird.

Never speak of what happened again

Like a sunny spell, your attempt at being sexy came and went and now you’re back to gloom and small talk. Both of you should bury this awkward memory and only talk about the weather from now on. It’s the British way.

IT’S only a matter of hours until office chat turns to what people are doing at the weekend. But probably keep these plans to yourself:

Passing out shitfaced

Besides being too revealing, the fact that you’ll be drunkenly falling to the floor in a puddle of your own puke is a given. You might as well tell your coworkers you’ve got a fun weekend of breathing lined up. No need to explicitly admit you’re a lush, so just give a vague impression and say you’re meeting friends for a drink. They’ll fill in the rest with their imaginations.

Gooning for 48 hours

Kink shaming be damned, embarking on a two-day wankathon is disturbing in and of itself. Telling your colleagues about it will only make things worse as you’ll have to explain what gooning is to team members who aren’t as online or perverse. They always wondered if you were a tragic, sex-starved loser, but there’s no need to confirm their suspicions in graphic detail.

Crying over the state of your life

Just because you work in an open-plan office doesn’t mean you need to be open about your emotional wellbeing. So what if you’re going to spend Sunday evening curled up in the fetal position sobbing over the terrible choices that have led to your shit life? Everyone else does it; they just have the decency to talk about some tedious film they’re going to watch instead.

Embarking on an affair

Keep this to yourself to protect the health and safety of your colleagues. The most exciting discussions they have are about the printer’s ink levels and KPI forecasts, so telling them that you’re planning to sneak off to a Travelodge to shag your mate’s missus senseless will cause them to pass out from excitement. Instead fob them off with some bollocks about going for a roast.

Spending quality time with your loving family

Not everyone in your office is lucky enough to have found love and reproduced, you inconsiderate bastard. Donna from accounts will put on a brave face if you talk about these plans, but she’ll scurry off to the loo for a massive cry when you’re not looking. Just say you’re going to watch the football, nobody really gives a shit what you’re doing anyway.

ALL homeworkers are completing their allotted tasks and attending meetings entirely naked, they have confirmed.

Across the country, anyone working from home is typing with their laptop mere inches from their exposed, perspiring genitalia and will not mention it if you do not ask.

Jordan, not his real name, said: “In a heatwave you should open windows at night and keep curtains closed by day. And with all the curtains closed only a fool’s wearing underpants.

“If you’re in an office? You’ve got air-con as reward for your sweaty frottering commute. I don’t have that luxury. I’m forced to use more primal methods.

“No, I will not be turning my camera on for the meeting. I think we both know why, and I urge you not to press the issue. It wouldn’t just be the background that needed blurring.

“I’m clocking in, I’m doing my job, there will be no complaints about the quality of my work. What does it matter to you I’m doing it as naked and unashamed as Adam and Eve before the serpent? ROIs are ROIs.”

Office manager Joanna, not her real name, said: “So you mean in the call with Sally this morning, she was nude? I’m not sure how I feel about that. She’s got massive tits.”