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I CAN'T be arsed with Christmas. All that fuss and build-up then it costs a shitting fortune and is over in a flash, like when I pay for sex. Plus the pubs only open for lunchtime, which is cruel to blokes with families.

READY to be someone else in the bedroom? Someone fumbling their lines and feeling deep humiliation? Combining the worse of bored sex and am-dram? Give roleplay a try.

And so a week that began with Lord Cameron requesting we all imagine him bent over, cheeks spread, bumhole gaping, draws to a close.

WAKING with a hangover so excruciating that were I to vomit the contents of my stomach would burn through to the Earth’s core, I reflect on my encounter with the Man Who Would Be Prime Minister. 

WAGWAN? Active J ‘as been hexperiencin’ da great houtdoors, fam. Crewdem an’ man decided to ‘ave a hadventure by campin’ hovernight in da local graveyard wiv da deadbots, innit?

AFTER every great disaster – Vesuvius, the Boris Johnson administration, Chelsea signing Winston Bogarde – come questions. But does history get the answers right?

The first guy to take a canary in a coal mine just couldn’t bear to be separated from his happy, tweeting companion for a whole day.

WAKING up with a hangover so physically harmful my toilet bowl melts when I urinate in it, I reflect on another momentous week in ecclesiastical affairs. 

HI there my little witches! Your beloved Cynthia here. I hope you've all been holding some space for me!

TIME to admit it: millennials are more cooked than pub chips. Boomers think we’re snowflakes, Gen X think we’re entitled pricks, and Gen Z think we’re cringe uncs.