Twitter 2009.
I like apples.
I like pears.
That’s cool.
Yeah.
Twitter 2018.
I like apples.
So you’re anti pears then.
No, I just prefer apples.
So you hate pears.
I never said that.
Fucking pear hater.
I don’t hate pears!
Yes you do. You make me sick. Scum.
Woman in Tesco put a divider down on the conveyer belt for the man behind her at the checkout. He didn’t say thank you so she picked it up and put it back and, to be honest, that’s the level of pettiness I can absolutely get behind.
Tesco delivery driver arrives.
I put my barking dog in another room.
Him: What dog is it?
Me: A chocolate lab.
Him: Will she run out the front door?
Me: No. She’ll just get in the way.
Him: I don’t mind her being in the way.
Me: Would you like to see the dog?
Him: Yes please.
As the weather is so hot I asked the Hermes delivery driver if he'd like a bottle of cold water. When he said yes I dropkicked it over a fence into my neighbour's rose bush and told him I'd left it in a designated safe space.
My son has a dentist appointment at 2.30pm tomorrow. At only 17 he has already achieved the dental joke dream I’ve been striving to reach for 46 years.
A man I sometimes chat to in the park when walking our dogs was telling me this morning about his new rescue chickens. He pretty much made my day when he told me he’d called them Hen Solo, Jabba the Cluck, Obi-Hen Kenobi and Princess Layer.
Piers Fucking Morgan tweeting to say how horrendous it is that Caroline Flack committed suicide when he spends literally every single day vilifying women on social media, on TV and in the press is actually not shocking because that’s the kind of hypocritical parasitic scum he is.
*Gets in taxi*
Brain:
Don't say it.
Don't say it.
Don't say it.
Don't say it.
Don't say it.
Don't say it.
Don't say it.
Don't say it.
Don't say it.
Don't say it.
Don't say it.
Don't say it.
Mouth: Been busy tonight, mate?
Brain: WHAT DID I JUST FUCKING TELL YOU?!
Last Christmas my 84 year old father-in-law, who had lost his wife of over 50 years just 4 months previously, spent Christmas Day all alone, because we were all following the rules set out by Boris Johnson.
Last Christmas Boris Johnson Had. A. Fucking. Christmas. Party.
Just seen a thread about what people have for breakfast on Christmas Day and am a bit perplexed. You’re going to have an enormous lunch so why the big fancy breakfast? For breakfast you just eat your Selection Box, some Quality Street and maybe a bit of Chocolate Orange.
During self-isolation
Dogs:
OH MY GOD YOU’RE HERE ALL DAY AND THIS IS THE BEST AS I CAN LOVE YOU AND SEE YOU AND BE WITH YOU AND FOLLOW YOU AND I AM SO HAPPY AND EXCITED BECAUSE YOU ARE THE GREATEST AND I LOVE YOU BEING HERE SO MUCH!
Cats:
What the fuck you still doing here?
Me watching a film
1. Start watching
2. Wonder what I’ve seen one of the actors in before
3. Google actor
4. Go to IMDb/their Wikipedia page
5. Find out every detail of their entire life
6. Realise I’ve completely missed the plot of the film and have no idea what’s going on
As Lucozade is trending, I’d just like to say that I still absolutely stand by the fact that you can roughly determine the age of someone by whether they see Lucozade as a sport energy drink or something their mum let them have as a kid when they were poorly.
The 2022 John Lewis ad will be a family burning their belongings for heat and to cook a rat for Christmas dinner while sadly looking at a photo of grandad who sacrificed his life for a packet of value pasta as a breathy slow version of ‘Things Can Only Get Better’ by D:Ream plays
I find it hard to believe people are voting to keep Matt Hancock in
#ImACelebrity
but then I remember this is the same country that voted for Brexit, Boris Johnson, and Mrs Brown’s Boys as best comedy at the National Television Awards and realise I can actually totally believe it
Mrs Brown's Boys beating Derry Girls and Fleabag at the National Television Awards is yet another example of why the British public shouldn’t be allowed to vote for things.
#NTAs
Just found there’s an orchid called ‘The Naked Man’ because, well, that’s what it looks like and I’m not even going to pretend that it hasn’t amused me.
Going to sleep at night.
Me: Gets into bed. Adjusts pillows. Wonders what to do with my arms. Too warm. Puts one leg out of covers. Worries about leg grabbing monster. Tries to sleep. Brain reminds me of every stupid thing I’ve ever done.
Husband: Gets into bed. Goes to sleep.
Drives into petrol station.
Drives to pump 4.
Fills up car and checks it’s pump 4.
Walks into petrol station to pay for pump 4.
Thinks to self:
It’s pump 4
It’s pump 4
It’s pump 4
It’s pump 4
It’s pump 4
It’s pump 4
Cashier: What pump number?
Me:
Lucozade is trending, so I’d just like to say that I still absolutely stand by the fact that you can roughly determine the age of someone by whether they see Lucozade as a sport energy drink or something their mum let them have as a kid when they were poorly.
9 people at my dad’s funeral. No wake. I couldn’t even hug my crying sister.
30 people at my grandad’s funeral. Had to sit 6ft apart wearing masks.
I had to watch my mother-in-law’s funeral via a video link.
Because we were following the rules set by the people who did this.
3 years ago today my dad died of a stroke. We were only allowed to have 9 people at his funeral. We weren’t allowed a wake. I wasn’t allowed to hug my crying sister.
We followed ALL the rules.
But Boris Johnson didn’t. He is a fucking liar and we won’t ever forget or forgive.
In this heat, pretend you're on holiday abroad by drinking beer at 8am and then going to Asda wearing a bikini and flip flops to buy 4 giant bags of crisps and a bottle of water.
Not going to pretend I’m not happy that Piers Morgan’s TV show last night got an average of 24,000 viewers (and ended with 10,000) and the ridiculous video I made of the final dance in Dirty Dancing (but they’re dancing to The Muppet Show theme tune) is currently at 4.7M views.
Heard a little girl in Sainsbury’s crying because she can’t choose between two Easter eggs and doesn’t want to wake up in the morning and realise she made a huge mistake, and I totally appreciate where she’s coming from.
It’s that time of year again when the people who design Father’s Day cards are convinced dads only like football, golf, gardening, racing cars, cricket, beer, fishing, ties or farting.
“What did you do when Keir Starmer suggested having a 2 week lockdown?”
“I ridiculed him.”
“What are you doing now, Boris?”
“Having a 4 week lockdown.”
Me: Opens Twitter. Starts reading a tweet at the top of my timeline.
Twitter: OH NO YOU FUCKING DON’T. REFRESH! REFRESH! REFRESH! YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO FIND THAT TWEET EVER AGAIN, YOU PIECE OF SHIT.
Someone on a local Facebook page is selling tickets to a Freddie Mercury night and a person has replied asking if it’s a tribute act and I truly deserve some sort of award for not making a comment.
The 2021 John Lewis ad will show a family burning their belongings for heat and to cook a rat they caught for dinner whilst sadly looking at a photo of grandad who sacrificed his life for a litre of petrol as a breathy slow version of ‘Things Can Only Get Better’ by D:Ream plays.
I still stand by the fact that you can roughly determine the age of someone by whether they see Lucozade as a sport energy drink or something their mum let them have as a kid when they were poorly.
The woman in Tesco who just hissed, through gritted teeth, “I’ll give you an unexpected item in the baggage area in a minute, you little bitch”at the self-service checkout is my new hero.
Aldi is still the worst place to pop into for milk as it’s inevitable you’ll leave with a German sausage, a 48 piece spanner set, a ski suit, a garden bench, a flamethrower and a zebra.
One of my favourite things I’ve read is that sometimes in films dogs have to be given CGI tails if they’re supposed to be acting angry or mean because they’re so happy that they’re doing a good job that they can’t keep their tails from wagging.
“Why have you done fuck all work today?”
“Well you see it was really windy and there was this bloke at the airport live streaming the planes landing, right…"
Tatler’s social media person arrives home and starts cooking their dinner, smiling at their productive day on Twitter. As they reach for an onion, a small frown appears on their face. With their pasta water bubbling away they suddenly scream “FUCK! WE FORGOT ABOUT THERESA MAY!”