NORTHERN men are dying younger to avoid three decades of light-hearted tomfoolery around the Yorkshire Dales.
An alarming rise in premature deaths in the North of England can be entirely attributed to the effect of the long-running comedy, which residents would rather die than suffer the humiliating torture of becoming.
52-year-old Roy Hobbs of Wetherby said: “First of all, long, happy retirements are for soft Southern jessies.
“Second, I don’t want to end up like those lads. Wandering up hill and down bloody dale for decades, prisoner in a rough-humoured purgatory, only blessed with the release of death when a home-made wooden autogyro crashes into a dry stone wall.
“I ain’t going out like that. I’m keeling over in the street the same week I get my engraved clock.”
Dr Helen Archer explained: “While those living in or around London can look forward to long retirements as lawyers or benevolent grandparents, just 200 miles north the only option is to be a peripatetic cloth-clapped fool.
“They should count themselves lucky. My granddad’s from Liverpool and he’s been in four Ken Loach films.”
