Surely this can’t be compatible with a normal relationship? Or maybe expectations are that low now? ‘Craig’s so romantic, he didn’t wank once during dinner. While waiting for your toast to pop up, do you visit Pornhub for 90 seconds of ‘MILF blowjob compilation’? A bit of ‘Real escort f**ked three ways’ while you’re waiting for your kid’s appearance in the school play? During the silent contemplation section of a memorial service, do you squeeze in a couple of minutes of ‘Husband catches wife with best friend’? Compared to being on a rattling diesel vehicle with ‘BNP’ scratched onto the window meandering through suburbs, masturbating at home is as suave and sophisticated as Sean Connery seducing Ursula Andress on a Jamaican beach.ĭo you compulsively watch porn in every spare moment? You’re assuming the answer is ‘no’, but your journey would be a lot more relaxed with a verbal assurance. The zillions of stepmom sex lessons/fake agent/horny doctor scenarios are even less narratively compelling. The most you can hope for is a shoplifter avoiding prosecution by banging a heavily tattooed security guard. Porn does not have much in the way of story, characters or action set-pieces. What are you getting out of this if you’re not masturbating? Surely the pensioner sitting right in front of you snorting snot into a hankie spoils the mood a bit? No? You’re surrounded by filthy seats, twats hammering the stop button ten times and schoolkids talking shit. Here are the burning questions you will not ask: IT’S weird to glance at someone’s phone and realise they’re watching hardcore porn on the number 16 to Leek. It’s called ‘cuisine’, and we invented it, you European plebs. Who wants metropolitan elite rubbish like raspberries, peppers or broccoli when you can enjoy the great British spud? Especially deep fried and covered in salt, which is the best way to enjoy any kind of food. My wife said it’s a good metaphor for Brexit, which made me sulk in the garage for three days. This vegetable is a tricky little bugger that’s a nightmare to deal with and ultimately more trouble than it’s worth. And I’d bloody well enjoy it!Įven more horribly foreign-sounding, but also the name of that hymn about how brilliant England is, so swings and roundabouts. I’d eat gravel if I thought it would piss off Ursula von der Leyen. We’re miserable and poor, but we’ve escaped the tyranny of Brussels. Can’t really do anything with it apart from mash it and then be disappointed it’s not potato, but this country was built on disappointment and look at us now. The swede has a suspicious European name, but it grows in abundance down the allotment so I’ll allow it. If you do I’ll call the police as you’ve obviously been injecting LSD with your hippy vegan anarchist mates. And you don’t slice it into so-called ‘steaks’ like in veggie restaurants. There’s only one way to cook it, which is to simmer it into a tasteless mush like my old mum used to. Don’t you dare mention America.Ĭauliflower looks horrible and smells like farts, which makes it a classic British vegetable. Why fanny around reducing luscious tomatoes into a tasty ragu when you could chop up a tough old cabbage and boil it into submission? The overly emotional Italians make a bloody fuss about everything, whereas us Brits know you have to like it or lump it. WHO needs tomatoes and peppers when we’ve got delicious British vegetables like swede and cabbage? Here is Roy Hobbs’ guide to avoiding traitorous EU produce.
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