HUMOUR

A COUPLE who spent close to a thousand pounds on three days in Vienna have called what to others would be a major financial event a mere ‘trippette’.

Allan and Kevin, not their real names,  flew to Jersey on Friday for ‘a little bit of breathing space’ having apparently found the pressure of Zoom meetings in their home and garden offices while simultaneously choosing Farrow & Ball paint colours too much to bear.

Allan said: “We needed a couple of days to recharge. Nothing extravagant. Just flights, a suite and a few tasting menus. No theatre, no opera and not even business class.

“Unfortunately the flights, the dinners, new outfits, cocktails and cake with gold leaf on does add up. No wonder people are so concerned about the cost of living these days. Thankfully Hugh’s art history degree saved on shelling out for a tour guide.

“We’re not wealthy. We both work incredibly hard and budget like everyone else. But skimping on ourselves would be a false economy. The boys will be back from boarding soon enough and we won’t get chance.

“Skiing in February? Still up in the air, depends on Hugh’s bonus. Of course we’re still taking a month in Tuscany in summer, but only because we own the farmhouse.”

Friend Martin, not his real anem, who has not left the UK since 2022 and on payday treated himself to a Charlie Bigham’s paella for one, said: “Nine hundred quid for a weekend? For that I’d want to come back with a new kitchen.”

NEED to apologise to get the situation over with? Here’s how to insinuate that you’re not really to blame.

‘I’m sorry you feel that way’

The classic. Technically an apology, but one which cleverly places responsibility for the entire situation on the other person’s misguided feelings. All you said was that Clare is a ‘big fat cow with personal hygiene problems’. She shouldn’t be so oversensitive in meetings.

‘I’m sorry if I upset you’

The word ‘if’ does the heavy lifting here. You’re not admitting you upset them. You’re merely expressing regret that they have somehow become upset in circumstances that remain completely mysterious to you. Strangely, you don’t get off scot-free in court by simply stating: ‘If I didn’t murder him I’m not guilty.’

‘I’m sorry. I thought you understood’

Brilliant, pure genius. Especially effective because it begins as an apology and ends as an accusation. It’s not your fault he didn’t check your relationship wasn’t one of those monogamous ones. Oh we’re arguing about the definition of ‘being engaged’ now, are we? Typical mansplaining.

‘I apologise for my part in what happened’

Perfect if you want to suggest there were multiple parties involved and your contribution was approximately four per cent. It also strongly suggests that other people’s roles were considerably larger. It’s just so true. Angela White keeps making these interesting videos and your wife shouldn’t creep into the house like a f**king ninja. And nor should her mother.

‘I’m sorry, but…’

Followed by anything that makes the first two words completely meaningless. ‘I’m sorry, but you were being incredibly annoying’; ‘I’m sorry, but what did you expect me to do?’; ‘I’m sorry, but birthdays for ordinary people were only invented by the Romans, so as an Anglo-Saxon by heritage I had no understanding of this supposed concept.’

‘Fine. Sorry’

This is the most honest apology because it communicates three things. One, you are apologising. Two, you do not mean it. Three, you’re fully aware this is a tactical masterstroke because once you’ve technically apologised there’s nowhere for the conversation to go. Don’t hate the playa, hate the game, fuming girlfriend.

DID you stupidly think you’d be happy and sorted by the time you got to middle age? Here are some unpleasant realities you weren’t expecting.

Renting a flat and being single

A waste of money and a bit lonely. However there might be enough 40-something singleton renters nowadays to force the government to give everyone a free house on their 40th birthday. Naturally you’d also get a decent car, an attractive spouse and some well-behaved kids. It doesn’t matter if they’re actors. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Your metabolism goes wrong

Leading to inevitable weight gain. You can’t even drown your sorrows about being fat with booze because hangovers are no longer a minor inconvenience on the way to work, but a nightmarish journey into paranoia, physical exhaustion and irrational feelings that you have lost at life because you don’t own an Audi.

You are not as successful as you assumed you would be

Even quite grounded people can’t resist fantasies of running their own successful business or writing the next Trainspotting. Unfortunately this requires talent, an element of luck, and single-minded hard work. The latter isn’t going to happen because let’s face it, you’re already knackered from just getting dressed in the morning.

Birthdays are no longer exciting

Childhood birthdays were amazing if you got an AT-AT walker, and in your 20s and 30s you were guaranteed a good piss-up. But birthdays in your 40s feel utterly pointless, unless you’re really excited about reaching the age of 43, which makes you a bit weird.

You’re obsessed with celebrities’ ages

A bizarre side-effect of getting older which makes you compare your own age and achievements with celebs who’ve taken an entirely different path in life. It’s still a kick in the teeth to discover you’re older than Danny Dyer, and haven’t even got his incredibly shit filmography.

THE government’s ‘Be Ready’ campaign is advising Britons on how to prepare for threats like extreme weather and cyber-attacks. Here girlfriend Nikki Hollis interprets that advice.

Stockpile scented candles

The last thing you want if food supplies are cut off is to run out of scented candles. And other people will be stockpiling them too so I’ve ordered 200. Can humans even survive without scented candles? I wouldn’t like to try it.

Don’t forget treats

A national emergency is going to be really depressing so you’ll need regular treats: Maltesers, Percy Pigs, Cadbury Flakes. There was plenty of space in our stockpile once I’d thrown out all the toilet paper and toothpaste my boyfriend bought. I even found room for Lindt chocolate truffles by binning all those matches. They’re dangerous anyway.

Buy conditioner

On the ‘Be Ready’ website it says to buy bathroom products, and guess what, I’d already bought 20 bottles of conditioner! Clearly I’m good at emergency planning because my boyfriend just bought some silly retro wind-up radio. Now is not the time for impulse purchases, sweetie.

Get a pet

If we’re stuck indoors for weeks or months because of a virus or radiation, a pet will cheer us up. My boyfriend says unnecessarily adding an extra mouth to feed is the antithesis of emergency planning, but I disagree. A dog will keep our morale up and if society breaks down we can use him to hunt and fight off intruders. I think a cockapoo is ideal for that.

Make a good playlist

When Britain’s infrastructure has been devastated by a cyber-attack, listening to your favourite songs will keep your spirits up. My boyfriend said: ‘Er, Nikki, you’re not planning to listen to that on Spotify on your phone which needs to be charged, are you?’ But then he’s never appreciated Taylor Swift.

Prioritise healthy food options

I understand we need to stock up on food, but what did my idiot boyfriend buy? Loads of instant noodles and baked beans! That’s just pure carbohydrate! Luckily some of us are a bit more health-conscious, so I replaced it all with lettuce, low-calorie ready meals and some apples. A nuclear war is going to be bad enough without fat thighs.

Have birthday cards

I just know that the moment society starts to collapse I’ll need to send a birthday card. Obviously I don’t know whose birthday it will be, so I bought loads of different ones to avoid giving my dad one with unicorns on. Unfortunately we were running out of space in the stockpile by then, so I threw out all the condoms my boyfriend had bought. I’m sure he’ll understand.

THE foundations of a father’s identity have been shaken after he decided to put the heating on before November.

Anthony, not his real name, 47, has started to question every aspect of his existence after he apparently voluntarily reached for the central heating controls and made the house a pleasant temperature, even though by any measure it is still only autumn.

He said: “My kids didn’t nag me into submission, and my wife told me to put a jumper on when she saw what I was doing. What the f**k is going on?

“This isn’t who I am. I’m your typical dad who maintains an inhospitable temperature with an iron fist. Or am I? Perhaps I’ve been living a lie all these years and the facade is finally slipping.

“Was I really born in Islington? Do I actually enjoy listening to reggae and cheering on the Gunners, or is that all a sham as well? Maybe I’m actually a 16th century French courtesan lost on the dimensional planes.

“Get your shit together, Ant. There’s only so long you can search for answers in the bathroom mirror you’ve headbutted before people start getting suspicious.”

Anthony’s’ daughter Lucy, not her real name, said: “On the one hand dad is a gibbering shell of his former self, but on the other it’s nice and toasty. I prefer him having a terrifying identity crisis.”

A MAN’S attempts to cure his hangovers are getting increasingly complicated to the point where they may be too difficult to do while hungover.

Martin, 41, not his real name, in the difficult position of loving getting shitfaced, but finding that quick, no-nonsense hangover cures have stopped working as well due to being old.

He said: “When I was younger I used to be able to shake a hangover off by mid-morning with coffee, a shower and maybe a quick vomit. Those happy days are gone.

“Drinking a litre of orange juice with a full English breakfast worked for a bit, but I was forced to move on to wanking and sleeping for ages. Sadly nowadays two wanks just wear me out, and spending most of the day in bed isn’t much use unless you can turn up to work at 5pm.

“So now my preparations start the night before by downing a pint of milk thistle juice while having a cold shower, then sleeping sitting upright so the alcohol doesn’t stay in my brain.

“In the morning I do the local park’s boot camp, which purges jets of toxins through my mouth, then I take an ice bath and sit down to a breakfast of dry sourdough toast with whale song playing in the background.

“The only problem is it’s way too exhausting to do with a hangover. A bloke in the pub swears by Thai massage, but hungover I’m not sure I could cope with the social interaction. Or a wank.”

Friend Cad, not his real name, said: “Martin could just meet us in the pub at lunchtime for an ever-reliable hair of the dog, but he’s going to an acupuncturist once he’s finished his kelp and wheatgrass smoothie.”

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.”