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We've got your warm banks right here, says Wetherspoons

WETHERSPOONS has advised the UK that a national network of warm banks is already up and running in your town for a low, low price.

With below-freezing temperatures expected this week, the chain has confirmed that you can stay all day for the price of a few pints, lifelong alcoholism and your self-respect.

Manager Jack Browne said: “We’re waiting for you. We’ve always been waiting for you. Ready for when it got bad enough.

“Have we got wi-fi? Probably. Have we got charging points? I dunno, have a look. Have we got the heating on, empty tables and chairs, and an offer of two pitchers for £13.50? Definitely.

“Call it a co-working space if you have to. Put on a Zoom background so nobody knows you’re attending from The Henry Shrapnel. There’s no music. Nobody will ever know you’re here.

“Look at all your fellow warm bank users and how toasty they are! They’re not worrying about bills. Not anymore. Soon you’ll be just like them.”

Freelance copywriter Carolyn Ryan said: “All these people are fellow professionals making sensible, thrifty decisions like I am. And they’re drinking in the morning, so I can.”

England briskly and efficiently dispatch opponents like a bunch of f**king Germans

THE England team last night beat Senegal as simply and methodically as if every single English player was secretly a Kraut. 

Fans expecting to see a doughty England team struggle against a team they could beat on paper, desperately defending an early goal before being heartbreakingly knocked out in the final minutes, instead saw the boys in white win with Teutonic ease.

Fan Martin Bishop said: “I don’t fervently support England to watch us swat teams away like the Kraftwerk of football. Where’s the fun in that?

“What happened to desperation? What happened to starting at breakneck, unsustainable pace then floundering after 20 minutes? Why aren’t we trying baffling new formations every match?

“Instead they stroke it about, wait for their opportunity, strike clinically and hardly let the other team get a sniff of goal, like a load of sausage-eating lederhosen-wearing knee-slapping bastards.

“What next, lifting the trophy? Being an economic powerhouse at the heart of the EU? Not in my f**king name.

“Next Saturday we need to get back to our roots. Give me a mismatched midfield, injured celebrity strikers, and a two-nil loss framed as a moral victory. That’s the England I know and love.”

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