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Six lazy sex positions for the minimal-effort lover, with the Mash sex columnist

THE high-impact multi-position end-changing shag is the dream, but what you really fancy is a nice lie down. Combine the two for lovely low-maintenance orgasms.

Mash Blind Date: Can married man Julian justify an affair with Hannah, and is she particularly interested?

HANNAH, aged 27, swiped right on 38-year-old Julian even though his holiday photos were very suspiciously cropped. But is he willing to take the plunge into infidelity?

Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Fern gasped. For in the web in the high corner of the barn, above where Wilbur sat beaming, two words glistened unmistakably in the morning dew. ‘FUCK OFF’, they read.

The Archbishop of Canterbury on... the long-overdue castration of Russell cocking Brand

WAKING on cobbles, I realise I have just fainted and feel my vital organs shutting down one by one like lights in a towerblock.

My call to Lachlan Murdoch is apparently 47th in the queue. 'Top 50!' I mouth to my wife

THE moment I heard, I picked up the phone to offer my congratulations. And the three hours since have simply flown by.

All this trouble to save the life of a chicken: The gammon food critic visits a vegan cafe

VEGANISM. The way I see it, you’re going some if you’re going a step more extreme than Hitler.

Let's move to a commuter town marginally better than Slough! This week: High Wycombe

Want to work in London but can’t afford the financial or psychological damage of living there? High Wycombe makes a perfectly shite alternative.

This week in Mash history: Sir Walter Raleigh discovers these tubers that fry up a treat, 1588

BRITAIN would be nothing without the potato. Vegan, gluten-free and delicious, spuds are the crispy-yet-fluffy-on-the-inside bricks modern civilisation is built on.

Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Everybody’s seen that picture of Albert Einstein sticking his tongue out. But beneath the clownish exterior was a very intelligent man.

The Archbishop of Canterbury on... the far-right likes of Susan twatting Hall

WAKING with a morning head and aware of a distinctively green, radioactive glow emanating from my skull, I reflect on last Sunday’s events at morning service.