HUMOUR

IT’S hard to believe, but not everyone likes you as much as you do. These are a few tell-tale signs people actually find you f**king irritating:

You get no eye contact

In the brief face-to face interchanges you have with colleagues, particularly females, they never seem to talk to you directly. Is this because you’re so ruggedly handsome that they fear gazing at you directly? No. It’s because your eyes are routinely transfixed at their chest and they’re all secretly bitching about your pervy ways.

You get fixed eye contact

Male colleagues, on the other hand, give you a fixed, unblinking glare. This isn’t the stoic glower of masculine approval you naively believe it to be. Instead, they’re pissed off because you either stole one of their clients, got the promotion that was rightfully theirs, or hit on their partner at the work do. Or, knowing you, all three.

They take non-existent phone calls

Constantly being on your phone around others is rude. That’s unless the person in question doesn’t like you, in which case it’s the perfect defence barrier. Notice how co-workers and acquaintances only seem to get calls when they see you approach, and how they always have to duck out and take it in private. It’s no coincidence. You’re that annoying.

You’re only in one WhatsApp group

Even tolerable people get roped into several WhatsApp groups like ‘Mark’s birthday gift ideas’ and ‘Soph’s leaving do’. Meanwhile you were only invited to one titled ‘Work’, and that was due to an administrative error. Although considering how annoying WhatsApp groups are, your terrible personality has done you a favour on this occasion.

You’re not invited to social events

Your mates invited you to their birthday parties and weddings a long time ago, but not anymore. And as for your work colleagues, they tend to keep their after work drinks to themselves. You get copied into the Christmas party email, but only because the company is legally obligated to. This behaviour is due to a little thing called your personality.

You’ve been punched in the face

People who are a pleasure to be around are sometimes punched, but only lightly and on the arm. A swift blow to the face is a coded message that your banter is grating and that everyone is tired of your constant one-upmanship. Your failure to pick up on this is also an indicator that you’re thick as shit. A quality that often goes hand-in-hand with being annoying as f**k.

WOMEN have reminded their boyfriends, husbands and male family members that they can see who they follow on Instagram and have no intention of pretending they cannot.

The warning has shattered men’s collective belief that tapping ‘Follow’ on the account of an attractive stranger was a private act nobody would ever discover, much less judge.

28-year-old Jess, not her real name, said: “It’s sweet how naive they are. Imagining we don’t go straight to their follower list once we find their accounts. I’ve done it from the car park after first dates.

“And it’s all there – Only Fans models, ‘fitness’ videos clearly designed only to give your wrist a workout and obvious AI scam bots with names like ‘Big Tits Zilla’ and ‘Legs Daily’.

“They always say ‘I don’t know her’. Of course they don’t. She’s a porn star living in LA and they’ve hardly left Doncaster. But they seem to think liking all her posts is the first step to a sexual relationship.

“It’s not like we’re hacking into the Pentagon, boys, there’s an actual search button. We’re also looking for exes, anyone a bit young for you, friends you’d clearly bang given the chance and any sudden, suspicious interest in women’s sports.

“Why don’t they understand the whole world can see when you comment under a thirst trap with ‘yummy’? I haven’t been able to look at Grandad the same way since.”

Husband Anthony, not his real name, aged 39, said: “Jess’s is a massive hypocrite. She claims she’s following my ex for ‘fashion tips’.”

A secondary school teacher could not care less what some kid they taught 20 years ago is up to these days.

Upon being approached by a former pupil while doing the big shop, history teacher Martin, not his real name, made it clear he had no interest in reminiscing about his underpaid day job.

He said: “Apparently I was an inspirational Robin Williams from Dead Poets Society figure to this guy. Shame I didn’t inspire him to leave me the f**k alone. He’s blocking the frozen chips.

“Why would I be happy to see him? He’s a grim reminder of the relentless passage of time. Since I last saw him he’s all grown up, yet I’m still droning on about Nazis to a bunch of Year 9s who don’t give a shit.

“What did he expect to happen? That I’d be overwhelmed with nostalgia and we’d pick up where we left off? The last thing we talked about was probably the failure of the League of Nations, which isn’t the basis of a friendship.

“To be honest I don’t even remember him. Pupils blend into one greasy, amorphous blob after a while. The only ones us teachers recall are the arseholes. We like to read in the local paper when they’re sent down.”

Martin’s ex-student Cad, not his real name, said: “I thought he’d be happy to hear my knowledge of history had led to a fulfilling career. But all he said was his hasn’t.”

ACTING isn’t the preserve of the good-looking, the talented, or even their nepo babies. Ordinary people like you perform, and these six turns in particular deserve an Oscar:

Sober at work

The Academy would be blown away if they’d seen your convincing portrayal of a sober person at work the morning after a heavy night. Your liver was still metabolising 12 pints, but like an Equity card holder you didn’t keel over and throw up once. With these talents you should be performing Shakespeare. Hamlet’s soliloquies would be a piece of piss in comparison.

Delight at receiving gift

Traditionally a difficult role to nail. Overdoing your enthusiasm looks hammy, underplay it and people get suspicious. You threaded the needle perfectly when your wife got you that spa weekend gift voucher instead of the Nerf gun you’d dropped hints about. And that ad-lib about how you’d already been thinking of buying a relaxing hotel break for yourself? Inspired.

Interest in other people’s exercise regimes

Meryl Streep has never pretended to look fascinated as someone drones on about their 5K personal best. That’s because it’s beyond her abilities as an actor. You made it look effortless though when you nodded through your colleague’s tedious explanation while thinking about Terminator 2. Have you ever thought about getting an agent? Your talents are going to waste in the office.

Happy to stay friends

When you were in a relationship you gave a convincing portrayal of somebody who wasn’t boring. Once your ex saw through your charade and binned you off though, you gave an even better performance as ‘man happy to stay friends’. It’s hard for actors to cry on cue, but it’s even more difficult to hold back tears when you’re heartbroken like you did. Bravo.

Fascinated by friend’s young children

Parents are allowed to find their kids irritating or tedious, but other people are expected to be enthralled when they throw food on the floor. You went full method actor by feigning interest in a child’s crap finger painting when they weren’t even in the room. Either you’re this generation’s Marlon Brando or you have no artistic taste.

Pretending to be fine

The toughest of all acting roles. It would’ve been so easy to slip out of character when your friend asked how you are, but nobody wants to hear a Brechtian monologue of despair and alienation. Smiling and saying you’re fine is your career-defining part, but now you’ve been typecast into doing it every day until you die.

PARENTS demand presents but want nothing. Your attempt to treat them to something different will be resented and reviled:

His driving experience

He was an avid Top Gear watcher and you’ve put up with years of him claiming Lando Norris is shit, so he should love this. Until discovering he now hates modern cars for not being diesel, thinks anything two-seater is for ‘show-offs’ and when he hits the tarmac drives like he’s manoeuvring a Ford Fiesta around Aldi car park.

Their tasting menu

When food isn’t labelled with Prince’s or Hellmann’s it’s already wrong. And this becomes an attempt to poison them when espuma sits on a page that reads like a GP pamphlet. Every fresh course is not gastronomic genius but a fresh humiliation for you, apparently proving the foul local chippie has been unbeatable since 1976.

Her night at the opera

Mum’s bragged about wearing her gladrags and going for a classy night out to all the girls at aquaerobics, but didn’t fully understand it would mean three hours of fantastical nonsense being shouted at her in German singspeil. She sits in complete silence throughout and will never mention it again.

Their murder mystery evening

The perfect gift for a dad who still does Morse impressions and a mum who treats Richard Osman as a religion. But for all the murder night’s pomp, because it isn’t real they’ll say there was too much try-hard over-acting and they thought the other man did it. Other relatives are briefed at length to ‘get us anything except that bloody murder’.

His clay pigeon shooting day

Dad loves war in all its forms, which is why there’s a framed painting of a Spitfire in the lounge and he corrects strangers about the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. Does that translate to him enjoying a day shooting a gun? It does not. Apparently, you learn later from your sister, it was ‘nothing but bang bang bang. Space Invaders for idiots’.

Their hotel getaway

Luxury, staff, duck-down pillows and a complimentary high tea. Except first they moan about getting there because it’s miles from a motorway, then they feel the staff are looking down on them, then there aren’t any sandwiches they like, then they ‘couldn’t sleep’ because ‘someone had been in our room’, then they steal the slippers.

ALRIGHT, you’re not that fascinating, but your company is less predictable than the 10,000th hour of Tank Wars. Get that phone down with these techniques: 

Make a polite enquiry

Interrupt his Block Blast! flow by passive-aggressively asking questions about his day, the weather, if what he’s doing is important or a waste of a life. Place the correct stress emphasis to help him understand that although these might seem like polite enquiries, they are in fact strict instructions to stop what the f**k he’s doing and pay you attention.

Give practical support

If your partner is on Disney Dreamlight Valley, move over and begin suggesting alternative strategies and admonishing silly mistakes. She’ll be delighted by your presence and grateful for your help. If she continues to make errors, ask her to give you the phone so you can show her how to do it properly.

Create a distraction

Interrupt Wordle with texts asking if it’s okay to substitute yoghurt for fabric softener, or calling a friend to say ‘Yeah the medical results are through. Yeah positive. Yeah I can’t really talk right now.’ In extreme cases, call the police and claim she’s holding you hostage. It’s emotionally true.

Hack his phone with AI

Apparently rogue AI are swarming all over the internet looking for hacking targets, so recruit one and set it on your husband’s phone. Suddenly his game of Alto’s Adventure is interrupted with achievements like ’10,000 hours you’ll never get back played!’ and ‘Congratulations! Your wife hates you!’

Offer sex

Come on to him, which happens so infrequently it’s up there with solar eclipses, and lure him away from the tense, equally matched game of Fibbage. If he’s ignoring actual real-life boobs for an online opponent and a screen, then cut off his cock. It will be a mercy.

Threaten to leave

When a high score is imminent on PUBG Mobile, it has to be stopped. He can’t be allowed that dopamine. Wheel in a suitcase and calmly tell him it’s the game or you. Expect him to choose the game, then change the wifi password from the car outside and wait for the anguished screams as a place on the leaderboard is denied him. Drive away without regret.

IS your holiday is a gruelling test of your love for your partner? Here are some behaviours you wish they’d saved for when you’re not in their company 24/7 after spending a fortune.

Sulking

Sulking is childish and annoying at the best of times, but worse if it’s over some trivial holiday thing like not wanting to buy a hideous souvenir donkey. If the relationship isn’t too serious you may even feel they’re a pain the arse you should split up with. Although you won’t be telling them immediately, because it’s nice to have someone to eat sardines with and shag on holiday.

Total lack of basic planning skills

It’s clearly hot, so did they bring a bottle of water? No. Let’s go back to that shop you pointed out earlier which sold it. They didn’t bring sunscreen either? Well, it’s the last thing you’d think of when going to the beach. Their sunglasses are back at the hotel, so can they borrow yours? Of course, my sweet… and so the irritation builds until you’re scared to go up that historic tower in case you push them off it.

Unadventurous eating

It’s rare that food on holiday is wildly exotic – you’re hardly likely to be served a whole fried monkey in the Algarve. The problem arises when your partner hates food not totally sanitised like in Sainsbury’s, and is horrified and disgusted by a fish having a head. Don’t worry, you’ll speak to the waiter and get them to turn it into oblongs in breadcrumbs.

Pointless money-saving

On holiday you’ve got to accept a fair bit of unplanned expenditure in the name of spontaneity and having a good time. However your partner may feel a holiday you’ve already spent thousands on is a good time to economise on minor costs. And who doesn’t love debating at length whether your should purchase each individual ice cream?

Worthy interests

It’s traditional on holiday to do worthy things you don’t do at home like visiting a cathedral. That’s probably why they’ve all got gargoyles – to alleviate the boredom. However there’s a limit, and you really don’t want your partner to suddenly discover a deep interest in wine production or local history. If they’re that interested in the Moorish conquest of the Iberian Peninsula they should have gone on holiday with David Starkey.

Personal habits

Snorting, making a clicking sound with your tongue, picking your nose and other such habits are tolerable occasionally. However on holiday you’re with your beloved constantly so those little irritations are magnified to the size of Jupiter. Has a boyfriend ever been beaten to death with an espadrille because he kept sniffing? It’s likely. The Spanish courts probably don’t even consider it an offence.

A MAN in his mid-40s has been hospitalised after mistakenly listening to a song released in 2025.

Audit manager Shane, aged 46, not his real name or age, was rushed to A&E after hearing almost two minutes of an empowering and provocative Chappell Roan track whilst popping to the Co-op to pick up some milk.

First responder Emma Bradford said: “Poor guy. His aging immune system was completely unprepared for a suggestive country-pop song backed with electronic hooks.

“Based purely on age, new music that isn’t into the revived shoegaze genre or on heavy rotation on Radio 6 will automatically send his body into shock. Thankfully he wasn’t exposed to Harry Styles’s gender nonconformity, but next time he might not be so lucky.

“Doctors have got him hooked up to a steady drip of Crash Test Dummies and The Longpigs to bring his vitals under control. It’s too early to say if he’ll ever be able to listen to anything this side of Franz Ferdinand’s debut.

“The shop was irresponsible. It was obvious Martin wasn’t ready for provocative lesbian pop hits by his grey temples and the amount of wine he was buying on a Tuesday. They should be like pubs, which haven’t spooked their clientele with new music since 2016.”

Shane said: “It’s not that I’m afraid of new music. I just need to listen to Surfer Rosa 2,000 more times before I’m ready to move on.”

DESPITE their popularity, tattoos are still not fully accepted by those who do not cover their skin with childish drawings. Could it be for these obvious reasons?

They’re inherently frightening

A skull, even with flowers dotted around it, is still a human head stripped of flesh and a universal symbol of death favoured by organisations such as the SS. You have chosen to put one on your body permanently. Expect to be shunned.

Your tattoo jars with your job

Tattoos are popular in careers such as the Army. However jobs like nurse, accountant or fancy cake baker do not need the same macho, comrades-in-arms ethos. Did you drag that slice of red velvet cake out of a burning Humvee under enemy fire?

They makes you unemployable in a meta way

A potential employer won’t see your neck tats and think: ‘By Jove, he looks like a ruffian and a ne’er-do-well!’ because they’ve seen plenty. But they will think: ‘Did this guy not consider his future applications for professional roles when he had those done? No second interview for you, Machine Gun Kelly.’

They’re frequently clichéd

Maori-style ‘tribal’ designs, skeletons in top hats and roaring lions: all groaningly unoriginal. How were you this oblivious to trends when you had them done? Did you not realise they should each have a best-before date underneath?

Face and hand tattoos are loved by nutters

Equally popular with aggressive beggars off their heads, prison inmates and young chaps with poor impulse control and electronic tags. Your tats may be quite arty and cost £850, but you can’t expect people to switch off reasonable associations.

They’re notoriously chavvy

It is no secret that the body art of the lower classes is lavishly mocked. Expect sneering reactions to your tramp stamp and the names of your children in cursive script, especially if those names are Darcy-Rae and Jaxxon.

Tattooists can’t draw

A lot of stencils are involved, but questionable images get inked nonetheless. When others look askance at your dragon with a dislocated pelvis or are genuinely struggling to tell if that is a Minion or Bart Simpson, the problem lies with the artist.

FOUND a lovely new partner? Great, but be aware she’s probably already drawing up a list of which of your friends you won’t be seeing again.

Your ex

She’s convinced you’re still carrying a torch for her, and must therefore never be in contact. Insisting the split was amicable and you’re merely friends now is just conclusive proof you’re desperate to rekindle your lost passion. Your new girlfriend is just being paranoid, apart from those 2am drunk-dialling calls begging your ex to have you back.

The womaniser

You shouldn’t be hanging around with good-looking gigolos now you’re with her, and any womanisers must be replaced with good, clean, homely lads. She’ll tell you it’s because he’s a sexist pig who treats women like objects. But won’t mention she shagged him on a filthy one-night stand just after you met, and would prefer you didn’t find out. To be honest, you’d prefer to overlook his undoubtedly better sex skills too.

The pisshead

Why would you want to go on all-day benders with Tom now you’re with her and could be spending your Saturdays shopping for clothes or going on country walks? If you want to keep having sex, drop him like hot bricks. All your mates will laugh and call you under the thumb, which you will vehemently deny. It’s more like being tagged with strict bail conditions.

The ugly one

There’s no point in you having pig-ugly friends she can’t matchmake her single pals with, so goodbye Carl. You may have been best friends since primary school but a geek with massive ears and ginger hair is now obsolete. The fact that none of her friends are in danger of landing modelling contracts and could do with a few Carls as back-ups will go completely over her head.

The Friday night football crew

Friday evenings are for taking her to expensive restaurants now, not playing five-a-side with your mates before a few beers. Take it on the chin and accept that’s the price of an occasional blowjob these days. In fairness, you were shit at it anyway, and the others only let you join in because you booked the sports hall every week.

A MANAGER has reserved 30 minutes of a meeting to give his team a thorough briefing on his recent fortnight of seven-star luxury in the Dutch Antilles.

Martin, not his real name, conscious that his staff could never afford such a break, set aside roughly 50 per cent of the vital catch-up meeting with an attend-in-person brief to detail exactly what such a holiday provides and what it costs.

He said: “Best report it while it’s fresh in the mind, I thought. I wouldn’t want to forget details like the 800-thread count linen sheets, changed daily.

“It’s my duty as a thoughtful and inspirational leader to inform them of the icing-sugar beaches, the glorious azure seas, the fresh-caught lobster, the complimentary mojitos. It lets them unwind vicariously.

“Aspiration is key to success, and by providing images of the paradise location, our enormous home with a shower open to the very sky, my wife’s Pilates classes, I’m encouraging them to work harder and achieve more.

“How could it not, when all they’ve done is scrape together a few Euros for a package to one of those countries where you put your shitty toilet paper in the bin. Or staycations. One poor sod’s even going to Wales.

“I tell everyone that if they get their heads down and work hard, they’ll be able to afford a holiday like this. They won’t. We’re making redundancies next month.”

A WOMAN discouraging her daughter from having children appears to be speaking from bitter personal experience.

Hannah, not her real name, aged 31, asked mother Diane, not her real name, when she felt ready to be a parent and the response was ‘a recruitment campaign for infertility’.

She said: “Mum told me to take my time and think about it, but her face told a less calm story until it blurted out ‘it’s like volunteering to spend 18 years as a hostage.’

“With only a brief tour through the spectacular damage to her pelvic floor, she then toured through cracked nipples, sleep deprivation, sex deprivation, watching The Amazing World of Gumball hungover, and ‘piss. So much piss. Years of piss.’

“I was asked to imagine negotiating with someone cretinous enough to refuse good food in favour of Play-Doh. An incident I actually remember.

‘The precious gift of my life was summed up as ‘joy, fulfilment and a profound understanding of why some animals eat their young’. Apparently once she left me and my brother at Keele Services, but made herself turn back.”

Diane said: “This is a photo of me holding me when you were born. You can’t change your mind. No matter how much you beg they won’t let you.”

A SOCIAL butterfly of a 41-year-old claims to know three whole people he can readily classify as friends.

Thanks to his gregarious lifestyle of working in an office and monthly pub visits, Joe, not his real name, has amassed a large, close-knit social circle consisting of three people he broadly tolerates.

He said: “Apparently there’s a male loneliness epidemic? I wouldn’t know. My magnetic personality has drawn three mates towards me over four decades, and I see them up to four times a year.

“I met Steve when we shared the same table at lunch, Jimmy is an old school friend, and the third is my wife’s best mate’s husband. We’re pretty close. I think he’s called Matt.

“We meet up once every few months to talk about films we didn’t enjoy and complain about the price of petrol. Separately, of course. All four at once would be overwhelming. There wouldn’t be time for any silences.

“Once I did try befriending a fourth bloke but realised it was too much. I barely had a month clear to myself. Also when he found out I already had three friends he called me a whore.

He added: “To be honest I’m thinking of scaling down to two. Better a couple of close pals than a load of superficial ones, and I think Steve might be a toxic fake bitch.”

AN office worker is living in fear of a colleague who believes he is a real friend and not merely a work friend.

Martin, not his real name, has come to dread Steve, not his real name, escalating acts of friendliness, which threaten to cross the line from cynical work banter into worthwhile friendship.

Martin said: “It’s not that I don’t like Steve, he’s alright. But outside of work we have nothing in common.

“Slagging off colleagues is fine, but now he’s suggested going for a drink, just me and him. Like a date. I managed not to commit, but I’m terrified that when we get to the pub the conversation will just freeze and we’ll both look back on it with embarrassment for the rest of our lives.

“Or what if Steve turns out to be a weirdo with no friends and a huge collection of ultra-violent comic books and hentai porn? He’ll latch onto me and I won’t be able to get rid of him in case he turns into a stalker.

“Then at work everyone will know me as ‘that weirdo Steve’s mate’ and there’ll be no chance of shagging Francesca or Rachel. Or he might ask me to go camping with him. If he’s into camping. Admittedly I’m making a few assumptions here.”

In the event Martin and Steve eventually went to the pub near their office and had a mildly amusing chat about work and mainstream films they had seen, before Malley left to go over to his girlfriend’s.

Bishop said: “I dodged a bullet there.”

A MAN did not notice his wife was keeping a conversation going even though he was not physically present.

Anthony, not his real name, incurred the wrath of his wife Jess, not her real name, by assuming their conversation was over because he had walked into the kitchen ten minutes ago to make a cup of tea.

He said: “I thought my absence and lack of replies were clear enough signs. But now we’re having an even longer conversation about how conversations work.

“Apparently by traipsing into another room during a lull I was ignoring her. How was I supposed to know we were still chatting? She’d purposefully asked me to be quiet while she caught up with Love Island.

“We weren’t even having a proper conversation anyway. She was wondering out loud about changing her phone contract, and I was showing her memes which she didn’t find funny. I would’ve thought she’d want a break from that.

“Great, now she’s giving me the silent treatment. I can’t even point out how hypocritical that is or I’ll make things ten times worse.”

Jess said: “How could he not hear me? I pick him up loud and clear from upstairs when he calls me a ‘miserable cow’, even if the washing machine’s on.”