THE end of the recession has failed to bring widespread joy.
As reports show that Britain’s economic woes are receding, millions have been left wondering why they failed to spring out of bed, throw open the window and shout ‘I love you, everything!’ at the sky.
Professor Henry Brubaker of the Institute for Studies said: “The dragon has apparently been slain, but the villagers aren’t rejoicing. In fact they still look pretty fucked off.
“Could it be because Britain is still a poxy, mid-Atlantic windblasted rocky protrusion, whose citizens spend seven months of the year churning up toxic mucus?
“Or perhaps that while the rest of Europe spends their early evenings gliding between cafes sipping green drinks with friends, we spend ours alone, eating cold curry and immersing in ourselves in the cretinising, cathode inertia of The One Show?”
Professor Brubaker cited the existence of Reading, John Motson’s annoying little chuckle and t-shirts that say ‘Jesus is my homeboy’ as possible reasons why you woke up feeling pinned to your mattress by an invisible goblin of woe.
Office worker Stephen Malley said: “I now realise I don’t particularly care about economic growth.
“I just need a hug, some natural light and never to hear the word ‘aspirational’ again.”
