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Couple who spunked £25k on wedding want some help with a house deposit

A NEWLYWED couple who spent £25,000 on their wedding want someone to give them money for a house.

Tom and Emma Logan, who had an idyllic barn wedding for 190 of their closest friends and family members with shitloads of doves and a celebrity DJ, currently live in a rented one-bedroom flat overlooking a roundabout. 

Tom Logan said: “Our wedding was the best day of our lives. You can’t put a price on things like that, although at the same time it did cost 25 grand.

“Now we want a house and Emma’s mum is too tight give us hers. So unless the government gives us a cheque we’re going to start one of those internet funding things.

“After all, you do want us to be happy, don’t you?”

Emma Logan agreed: “Everyone who came to the wedding got a free ice cream, from an actual ice cream van. That cost three grand although in retrospect we probably could have haggled that down to a couple of hundred quid.

“It’s very unfair that we now don’t have any money, after giving away ice cream at an event that was in no way a massive ego trip inspired by bullshit ITV2 programmes.”

We are WH Smith and we will never, ever close down

By WH Smith

TAKE a look at the high street. Big names going down left, right and centre. But what about us? You’d think a bumhole like WH Smith, more of a skip than a store these days, would be ripe for bankruptcy.

Have you seen what we charge for a bag of crisps? It’s shocking. You’d be better off going to the little newsagents down the road, if it’s one we haven’t driven out of business.

But here we are. And here we will be until the end of time. Long after Pizza Express has served its last margherita, long after Paddy Power has gone into receivership, WH Smith will still be standing and so will you – in a long queue while our befuddled staff are still working out how to use the electronic tills.

Even after the apocalypse we’ll still be trying to fob you off with 20-year-old Toblerones or doing ‘3 for the price of 2’ deals on chocolate-coated cockroaches.

You’ll shop with us because you know no better, because faded, shopworn heritage and British mediocrity is all you know.

And what will happen when Brexit kicks in? I’ll tell you what. You’ll just be left with us. WH Fucking Smith. Sitting on the high street like a discarded Oasis bottle with a mouse nibbling it.

Because we are Britain, in all its overpriced, lukewarm, rundown former glory. We are Britain. You are us, and we are you.

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