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THE International Monetary Fund last night issued its starkest warning yet that British dinner parties were vastly overvalued and on the brink of a devastating collapse.
 Please, for the love of God, shut up about your blowtorch
Meanwhile, listening to a drunk man who claims to be a socialist pretend he is embarrassed his house is worth half a million pounds before staring at your wife’s tits during dessert is a tremendously shit way to spend a Saturday night.
Bill McKay, chief economist at the IMF, said: “Why should I care if you get your beef from that amazing organic butcher your chiropracter told you about? “All I know is you bought your starter from Waitrose, your kids are foul, and your taste in music is totally fucked-up .
“Have you ever thought of talking about something other than how hard you work, how much you are worth, and how fucking great you are? Especially as we all know your alcoholic wife is at it with the Polish au pair.
“Why should I have to waste ten minutes of my life listening to a twat in plastic glasses tell me how you discovered this cheese on a walking holiday in the Spanish Pryenees when all I want is to eat something that doesn’t stink like a goat’s end?”
Mr McKay said the only glimmer of hope was next year’s total wipe-out in the British property market which would, “shut-up all those smug bastards who've spent the last five years boasting about their property investments, and hopefully drive most of them into bankruptcy”.
Alistair Darling, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, said: “I really must stop shitting myself.”
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