Premium

AWAKING, an empty vodka bottle in one hand, I find myself in a large, cathedral-like edifice festooned with flowers and comely maidens.

YOUR agents say there’s nothing I can do to make the situation worse and I should sit tight, Sir Keir. But they don’t know me like you do.

WANT to appreciate your bed? Push yourself into a sexual experience in a public location and thrill to the fear of being charged with indecent exposure.

Not quite the Midlands, not quite the South, Banbury is like a shit northern town that missed the train home from a non-league game and decided to stay.

ALL top stars have their vices. For Mick Jagger it was pussy, for Keith Richards heroin, and for me it’s Haribo. Can’t get enough. No self-control. I’m ranking my top five.

A baby bird becomes attached to the first thing it sees after hatching. Like come on, shop around.

WAKING in my own bed, I am startled to discover I lie beside a slumbering horse.

AS A millennial, I don’t understand things the older generation are into like home ownership, Morrissey and penetrative sex. Today I’m trying to ‘send a letter’.

SERIOUSLY worried I’d been too successful out there, Sir Keir. They were clapping every other sentence of my big speech. Then I remembered: they’re nutters.

LONG-DISTANCE relationship? You can’t have sex if you’re not in the same place. Shag someone local.