HUMOUR

IT would just be like so wrong to deprive teenagers like me of my socials because I have grew up with it and there is all what you learn from it, right?

Social media is a vital part of young peoples life’s nowadays. In the future we will need to know technology to get a job. If your boss tells you to watch TikTok and you don’t know what that is, you’ll get the sack. Thats just the Real World.

In any case AI will have taken all the jobs and its all vibe coding now. What point am I making here? Dunno.

Social media is also important for our education. I’m reading comments on Insta all day and thats learning me good spelling. It would be wrong to deprive us of such a voluble learning resauce.

Anyway its like totally addictive so we can’t stop using it if we wanted to. Is that actually more of a bad thing about it? I don’t know because at school I’m usually on Snapchat instead of learning how to construct an argument. The Government needs to do something about that.

Also banning me off social media would be wrong because its how young people communicate these days, you feel me? I mean, yeah, mostly we just put emojis next to videos, but sometimes we really open up emotionally and use a sad face.

Of course theres harmful content out there, but you can just make it illegal with a law. Someone made a fake nude of a girl in my form group, and I’m like totally against that. Its wrong to compare ordinary women to professional porn stars with much better tits.

So after reading the arguments I’ve done here, I think you’ll agree we must not ban under-16s from social media. Even if its just so we stay online in our bedrooms rather than talking to you about our clueless bullshit.

A COUPLE meeting up for the third time have already exhausted all the entertaining anecdotes they have to share.

Despite having only been on three dates, potential partners Jack and Lauren, not their real names, have already discussed the highlights of their respective lives and now have nothing of interest left to say to each other.

He said: “I thought my horizon-expanding trip to Japan would sustain at least a few months of dates. But Lauren’s already glazing over when I talk about riding the Shinkansen to Buddhist temples.

“The time I ran a marathon? Blown on the first date. As was the tale of when I thought I’d won the lottery. I should have known to keep something gripping in reserve, but I was just so pathetically desperate to maintain her attention.

“Now all I’ve got left to discuss is what happened to me during my actual daily life, which is boring as f**k. I’ll save Lauren the hassle of ghosting me by dumping her now.”

Hewitt said: “Jack’s being hasty, we can create our own fun stories. They’ll bring us closer together and when we break up we’ll have something to tell our next dates about.”

ATTENDING an online seminar is a fantastic opportunity to get stuff done while some arsehole is droning on about bullshit, research has found.

The Institute of Studies found that online presentations, without any need for attendees to participate or turn cameras and microphones, are incredibly productive in the sense of getting the washing hung out, the dog brushed and the grouting deep-cleaning.

Professor Henry, not his real name, said: “It is a basic human urge to f**k about doing stuff when someone is talking, especially if they’re talking about work.

“A webinar? Our research shows that this time, when an employee is least engaged in work, is often their most productive hour of the day.

“Not for employers, no, but in terms of folding washing, trimming nosehair and applying beauty treatments, it’s really getting tasks ticked off. And over half those surveyed found they still had a rudimentary, one-line understanding of what the webinar was about.”

Hybrid worker Joshua Hudson said added: “I did all the paperwork for my recent house move during a webinar about data-centred analysis of retail park footfall in the West Midlands. It’s saved me hours I can now spend drinking alone.

“If they ever make me have my camera on, I’m leaving the company.”

Webinar host Oliver, not his real name, said: “I know nobody’s listening. I pop on a recording of myself back from when I still had hope and get on with weeding the garden.”

ROYAL Mail bosses are to be called to Parliament to answer for their failure to deliver letters on time, but are we imposing unfair expectations on them?

William McKay, conveyancer: “Notice how it’s always the privatised businesses who come in for all this criticism. That’s victimisation, pure and simple.”

Wayne Hayes, psychiatric nurse: “I don’t see the issue with only receiving post once a week. In the Kevin Costner film The Postman they get it years late, and that was a post-apocalyptic society just like ours.”

Joanna Kramer, full-time mother: “Postmen used to have time to give you a good seeing to over the kitchen table. Now I barely have time to toss him off at the door.”

Jordan Gardner, tanning salon manager: “Royal Mail have blamed weather and illness for the problem. Well those are both new things which have never happened before so give them a break.”

Helen Archer, camgirl: “It’s all junk mail anyway! By which I mean I correspond with multiple older gentlemen who post me regular dick pics.”

A MAN who accidentally ticked a box saying he was gay on his equalities form now feels compelled to go along with it, to be an ally.

34-year-old digital services manager Jim, not his real name, realised his error during orientation when he was welcomed to the team by his employer’s LGBTQ officer, and felt it was the wrong time to correct it.

He said: “I don’t want to offend anyone by being straight. But on the other hand, the longer this goes on the worse it gets.

“Maybe at six months, after I finish my probation? But that will make the rainbow lanyard I’m now wearing a lie and the expenditure on sending me to that Gay In Tech conference fraudulent. And that sounds like it’ll be fun.

“It’s too late to explain my sexuality is a typo, and saying I’ve had a rethink and I like fanny now isn’t going to convince anyone. So I’ve started binging Drag Race to learn the slang and called the Q1 accounts ‘iconic’.

“I get to sit with the girls at lunch, I get a day off to go to Pride, I get compliments on my casual Friday outfits. All in all it’s a positive experience and I’m demolishing gay stereotypes by being a bit fat with bad skin.

“Will from estates has invited me to a gay bar. I’d pull out but I’m in too deep. I hope they serve real ale.”

ARE you a terrible, inconsiderate son who doesn’t know what to get his mum for Mother’s Day? Try these safe gifts.

A phone call

Doesn’t have to be long. A quick two-minute chat will make your mum happy, even though she carried you for nine months and spent 15 agonising hours pushing you out. Try to make the conversation about her for once though, and how much she means to you. Your usual calls where you beg her for money can wait.

Breakfast in bed

Don’t actually know anything about your mum? Don’t panic. While she would’ve definitely enjoyed a thoughtful present related to one of her interests you’re oblivious too, some burnt toast on a plate presented to her in bed is an adequate alternative. Push the boat out and include a cup of tea that isn’t made to her liking.

Some flowers

If you were an attentive son, you would’ve already pre-ordered a bunch of your mum’s favourite flowers to be delivered to her on the big day. Seeing as you’re not even sure if she likes flowers, you’ll have to make do with a handful of daffodils yanked out of her garden. They’re definitely a step up from a bouquet of forecourt flowers, due to not being completely shrivelled yet.

A nice meal

You’ve left it too late to book a table at Wetherspoons, so you’ll have to cross your fingers that there’s a space at a fancy restaurant. Failing that, anywhere your mum can sit in peace for five minutes and sip on an elderflower cordial will do. You have to accompany her to whatever you settle on as well, otherwise she’ll look tragic.

For you to move out

Your mum may say that she wants chocolates or a trip to the spa, but this is really what she’s holding out for. She already knows how she wants to redecorate the childhood bedroom you still live in, so get her the ultimate treat this Mother’s Day by moving all of your crap into a storage unit. If you need help, your dad will be all too happy to lend a hand.

By internet enthusiast Nancy, who doesn’t understand why documents don’t fall out of the cloud when it rains

IN my day dirty old men wore raincoats and leered. Like Terry down the butcher’s. Marie married him, but then she had to with her moustache.

But in the 21st century? They’ve got yachts and planes and islands. Take this Geoff Epstein. Good-looking man by the standards of Geoffs, but by all accounts a wrong ’un. Got Andrew in terrible trouble, and I’m a Royalist but he was always thick as mince.

There’s all sorts in his Epstein’s files, though. Politicians, diplomats, presidents. Makes me wonder – am I in there?

You might ask why he’d be mentioning an ex-bookmaker’s assistant who’s six decades outside his age range and can only get the iPad to work by shouting at it. But I let Roy take a few saucy shots back in the day. Upskirt stuff. So hot I’m surprised we got them back from the chemist.

Lord knows where they ended up, and that’s the sort of blackmail material Epstein was after. There’s nothing more compromising than a sturdy thigh and a floral gusset.

And I could easily be an enemy of a man like that. I’m very forthright. Like Graham at bowls, he didn’t like strong ladies. I’ve reposted endless memes about his mate Peter Mandelson on the Facebook and I even read a few.

Is there any way I can write to the local council and see if I’m in? Like with my Freedom of Information requests about those remote-controlled pigeons I read about online, which they were very dismissive of. Said ‘they move around a lot’ and ‘all look the same’. That’s what they want you to think.

And when Andrew’s interview came out, I publicly – on the Facebook’s neighbourhood group – called him a ‘fat n0nce’. I put the 0 in to stop it being rude. He will have seen that and the word will have gone out that I must be silenced.

Bill Gates knew Geoff, but it’s supposedly a coincidence that my Windows 95 machine keeps breaking down. Never mind that my grandson Oli says it’s ‘riddled with viruses’. Who do you think sent those?

We need them to search the Epstein files for me. And tell them to search ‘Wilks’ as well as ‘Nancy’, because a lot of the time people spell it wrong.

A MAN is feeling increasingly nostalgic for his twenties despite having spent the entire decade wishing they would end.

43-year-old Martin, not his real name, has decided that his early adulthood, which was defined by existential dread, financial anxiety and relationship turmoil, was actually the prime of his life in retrospect.

He said: “At the time I was impatiently waiting for everything to fall into place so I could feel like a real adult. God I wish I could go back to those glory days.

“My job was terrible. My prospects were even worse. And I was already lagging far behind my friends when it came to falling in love and buying a house. But compared to now, where things are broadly the same, at least I had hope for the future.

“My twenties really weren’t as terrible as I thought they were. My legs didn’t ache every time I stood up, and my hairline was still on point. Pair that with a complete lack of responsibility and you can see why I miss them so much.

“So what if every day was a battle with my low self-esteem and terrible circumstances? Those are nitpicks. If I zoom way, way out, and only focus on the handful of good memories from that time, they look much better.”

Booker’s friend Anthony, not his real name, said: “Give it 20 years and Martin will be all wistful about his current situation. Which is ridiculous because his life is utter shit.”

THAT night of slippery anal the two of you haven’t discussed since? Shared over brunch, complete with hand gestures. Here’s how to acknowledge that:

Take pride in your achievements

Why are you embarrassed? You are now one of the great lovers of history, whose sweaty achievements are spoken of with hushed awe in Pret. Like Casanova, Cleopatra or Jacob Rees-Mogg, your prodigious shagging is the sort of feat that would’ve once kept medieval minstrels in business. Except now it’s your girlfriend’s mate Nat who’ll be recounting your tale through various group chats.

She was there first

Long before your first kiss with your beloved, your girlfriend’s best mate heard about your Hinge opener and gave a second opinion on your haircut. You’re only together because this woman approved them, like a chaperone of the Regency period. By listening to stories of your prowess, she’s keeping her role as your girlfriend’s guide through the bewildering gauntlet of modern love.

Fantasise

Pretend you’re living in a letter to Penthouse. You never thought your girlfriend’s mate fancied you. But then she heard tell of how you provided nine minutes of sustained cunnilingus, and now she’s queueing up to sample the goods next to your obliging partner. Have fun imagining how this would play out, while remembering to never, ever tell your girlfriend of this specific fantasy.

Accept things were already awkward

You can only be so close to your girlfriend’s best friend. While she might not acknowledge it, she’s always going to resent you for stealing her pal away from her. So what if stories of your sexual prowess drive a further wedge between the two of you? Don’t worry, she’s only holding onto them to weaponise for when you split.

See if it works two ways

If your girlfriend’s mate is being told all of the sordid details of your sex life, then it’s only fair that you learn about who she’s f**king and how. Open with an easy question, like ‘So does Sonya swallow?’ If your girlfriend is repulsed at your asking and this leads to a relationship-ending argument, at least your paranoia about what’s she’s saying about how you shag will be a moot point.

A MAN is never more than 480 minutes from being able to neck pints of delicious, refreshing beer, it has emerged.

Booze-lover Martin, not his real name, has calculated that between lengthy stints of going to work and being asleep, he is never more than eight hours from being able to indulge in a crisp, tasty pint of lovely beer.

He said: “It sounds like one of those unbelievable facts, like how space is only 62 miles away. But it’s true for all of us, unless you’re teetotal.

“Think about it. If you have a drink before you go to bed, you’re just eight hours away from your next sip. And that’s only if you don’t get up in the middle of the night for a cheeky top up after going for a wee.

“According to HR I can’t drink at work, but there’s nothing stopping me from having a cheeky swig in the car park at 8:59. Then it’s simply a case of watching the clock count down to pub time. If I get really desperate I can usually get away with a half during lunch.

“Long-haul flights aren’t a problem thanks to the drinks trolley. I can’t see myself having to wait more than eight hours unless I get stranded on a desert island or there’s prohibition. Even then I reckon I could figure something out.”

He added: “It’s little babies I feel sorry for. They have to wait 18 years, or if they’re cool, 11.”

A WOMAN who really believes her boyfriend is faithful just wants to innocently scour all of his communications, she has confirmed.

Hannah, not her real name, insists she does not suspect her boyfriend James, not his real name, of cheating but wants to comprehensively go through his entire archive of texts, WhatsApp messages and emails going back to 2018 for fun.

She said: “I think it would be a wholesome bonding experience that will bring us even closer together. I’m surprised James has even the slightest misgivings about the idea. The innocent have nothing to hide.

“What could be more enjoyable than letting me read all of the silly messages he sends to his mates? I bet there are some hilarious memes they’ve exchanged I could get a giggle out of. Maybe he’s embarrassed that I’ll find all of the cute, loving things he’s said about me.

“I’m not naive. I know he has some women in his contacts, like his mum and his sister. But I’m not the jealous type, I just want to know who they all are, how they know each other, and see every word they’ve said to each other out of curiosity.

“And once we’ve done that we can trawl his social media DMs and his camera roll. Including the hidden folders. And then I can check them again on a weekly basis forever or until I dump him.”

He said: “I’d love to but my phone just did a big update that wiped all of its memory. Unlucky.”

A PSYCHOLOGICALLY corrosive and morally reprehensible person genuinely believes all her problems stem from being a people pleaser.

33-year-old Sophie, not her real name , who has not experienced a single conflict in her life that she did not personally ignite, nonetheless insists she spends her life beholden to others.

She said: “It’s been tough, learning how to prioritise myself because it’s against my selfless nature. But the alternative is people taking advantage of my good, open heart.

“I instinctively put other people’s needs before my own. Telling my friend her boyfriend was clearly into me was because she needed to know. The texts to my sister about her arse being the size of an elephant’s? Same.

“Often I can’t attend family events like weddings and funerals because I’m such an empath that I experience love in a different – you could say better – way than others. Instead, thinking of how I can best recover to help them, I go shopping or have a bath instead.

“I’m so meek that it’s a struggle not letting others impede on my time, like my manager. If she says I need to be in at 9am I move heaven and earth to do so, even if I don’t manage it. But I’ve emailed her why four times last night because I’m so desperate to please.

“But change is hard. On the train, I watched a TikTok – no headphones – asking ‘people pleasers, who’s pleased by you?’ And it was so profound. Because nobody seems pleased by me.”

GOOD evening, welcome to this fine inner-city hostelry the tourists do not frequent. Can I tempt you to a large bar of Dairy Milk?

No, sir, I am not a licensed seller of confectionery. More of an entrepreneur, which is why my wares can be offered at such competitive prices. Box of Lindor truffles for your good lady?

How did I obtain such a delectable range of toothsome comestibles? Ah, well thereby hangs a tale of derring-do to match those of folk heroes Robin Hood and Dick Turpin! For I, with my own hands, shoplifted them from my local branch of the Co-op!

Yes, I am a familiar face in those aisles, which is why I call in at only the busiest times when the staff are most distracted. When there are queues for sausage rolls and an elderly gentleman seeks to put £20 on his gas card; that is my time.

I make my way over to the chocolate, alcohol now being protected from my depredations, and not to put to fine a point on it, I fill my trousers. And my jacket, and this sweater you see here which has remained unwashed for many months.

Then, espied by security who relish our game of cat-and-mouse as much as I, I flee. I run as fast as my shaking legs can carry me, still loaded with chocolate bars around my intimate areas. Only when safely hidden in a grimy back alley do I count my spoils.

And here they are for you now, good people, fresh and discounted. Tony’s Chocolonely? Lindt Intense Dark? This Toblerone which wedged so neatly in my cleft?

No? Suit yourselves. It saddens me so many do not recognise a bargain when they see one.

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, not his real name, 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 LONGTIME couple’s romantic night out at a restaurant has made them realise their love language is now a chilly silence.

50-year-old Keith, not his real name, and wife of 20 years Jo booked a table at D’Agistino’s to reaffirm their romance and soon realised they would achieve this by not talking to each other at all.

He said: “Other love languages include physical touch and gifts. Not so much ours. Our love thrives on hush and looking in different directions.

“We managed 90 seconds chat on the breadsticks – the flavour, the consistency, how they compare to other breadsticks we’ve had – and a further 35 seconds on the waiter’s earring. Then we lapsed into what makes us both comfortable.

“28 minutes and 40 seconds later, they brought the meal and we made noises of acknowledgement, then it would have been rude to talk with our mouths full, then I was concerned I might have spinach on my teeth so kept my mouth shut.

“Anyone watching would’ve thought it was a date between a monk and a nun from rival silent orders. It’s a sign of love, knowing so much about each other there’s nothing left to say.

“Besides, what am I going to do – flirt with my own wife, like a pervert? No, our love goes beyond words. We’d renew our vows if we could do it silently.”

Loraine agreed: “Mm.”

PERPETUALLY paranoid about ‘wasting the day’ staying in bed? Chill the f**k out by following this guide to enjoying it and not being knackered by 9pm:

Do not plan every second

Being a slave to your diary won’t help you lie in bed scratching your arse. Don’t make any arrangements before midday, turn off notifications, close the curtains properly and ignore your bladder. It can hold on a bit longer if it really tries, and in return you won’t attempt a wank.

Stay up late the night before

There is life after Newsnight. Stay up and see some of it, and then perhaps you’ll be tired enough to luxuriate in no alarm going off. Still finding yourself drowsy? Follow the wisdom of teenagers and stay up scrolling social media bullshit for far, far longer than you’re able to find it interesting. Then another hour after that.

Prepare your body

Usually exercise in the morning? Do it the night before instead. Shower in the morning? Wash in the evening. Usually have an evening Horlicks or soporific tea? Instead, knock back espresso martinis and vodka Red Bull until you keel over in a twitching, semi-conscious stupor. Lie-in guaranteed.

Ignore your mind

If you wake in the night for a 3am piss, perform the action without thought. If a man, sit on the toilet in darkness. Resist all thought, and especially long-nursed grudges about twat neighbours, arseholes online or how you’d have that argument with your partner better this time and win. These are not restful thoughts.

Ignore your partner

Often the reason you can’t lie in is due to your partner snoring, farting or poking you with an erection. Feign sleep anyway or lie: claim a parcel has arrived, or you heard the dog vomit, or simply ask them to leave the house forever and never come back. The means will justify the end when you’re curling up with the whole duvet.

Masturbate if necessary

If your own sexual thoughts are nudging you awake and you’re alone, crack one out. A morning glory or handy dildo will help but needn’t be a prerequisite for strumming off and wallowing in post-nut, warm bed, sleepy bliss.

Don’t fool yourself you’re important

The world won’t collapse if you roll over and grab an extra hour. Calm your frantic nervous system and racing heart with the understanding you’re a replaceable, insignificant cog in a the machine of capitalism and society will function fine without you. Like the Buddha, realise you are nothing. Then break wind and go back to sleep.

HAS your perpetually broke friend bailed on buying you a drink again? While letting slip that all these activities were apparently within last month’s budget:

Going skiing

Inspired by the Winter Olympics, your broke friend somehow found cash for a weekend in the French Alps. Oh, someone from work has a timeshare lodge? That doesn’t cover ski hire, lift passes, the flight or the après ski, does it? Which were all paid for, unlike their half of an £8 Uber.

Online gambling

The damage incurred through gambling is grimly obvious. Nobody goes into a bookies and thinks ‘hey, this place seems full of people whose lives are getting better’. Online gambling? Much more abstract, which is how your mate went on a poker-winning streak with the £200 you lent him them lost the lot. And he expects you to understand.

Started five new hobbies

Self-improvement is good. Nothing wrong with learning Portugese, how to make pasta, or to play the keytar. It’s just if you’re learning all of them at once, and street dance, and padel, then it’s surely costing you money. And each one will be dropped by next month but but the memory of your birthday meal they couldn’t afford to attend will last forever.

Got a dog

Not from a shelter or from a friend or those blameless methods, no, their new pedigree French bulldog is from an elite breeder and comes with a whole host of pricey congenital quirks. It’s also ill after eating your headphones and so really that’s your fault and you should be paying the vet’s bill?

Bought a car

She already has a car, but thought a runaround for everyday errands would preserve the first car’s value. Makes sense, right? Then went for an Audi A3 after carefully reviewing her budget and bank statements, and realising signing up for another credit card and moving debt around was the prudent move. ‘It’s recommended by Martin Lewis!’ she says.

Bought into cryptocurrency

It was the right time, apparently, to make a fortune. So years after everyone else your friend bought big into crypto and launched a podcast about how everyone else should too. Then Bitcoin crashed, and now he’s sold most of what he owns and is asking to crash at yours rent free for a couple of months.