Don't take parenting tips from Paltrow

Dear Holly,

My mother-in-law keeps criticising my parenting techniques and says I’m a bad mother. I’m thinking of getting my oldest son to go round and smash her windows in but I can’t get him to stop playing Call of Duty for long enough. How can I show her that mum knows best?
Dear Ingrid,

Just don’t take any parenting tips from Gwyneth Paltrow. Her children are called Turnip and Gomorrah, or something like that, and she’s got them on a strict microscopic diet, which basically means they’re only allowed to eat bulgar wheat and amoeba and other stuff that isn’t visible to the human eye. Gwyneth insists that this approach stops them suffering from food allergies and wheat intolerance, which is probably true, but they’ll only end up suffering in other ways, like when they get their heads flushed down the toilet by school bullies for being weirdo hippy freaks. Picture a life without fun size Mars Bars, and you’re faced with a black, black existence. No wonder Chris Martin from Coldplay is on suicide watch.

Hope that helps!

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Tesco lays foundation for new level of hell

GIRAFFE restaurants attached to supermarkets promise a new era in soul-destruction, Tesco has claimed.

The company announced that it was now close to perfecting the experience of shopping for mystery animal parts in a windowless hangar staffed by polyester-clad accidents.

Tescologist Wayne Hayes said: “Now you can sit in a Giraffe watching somebody’s drooling ratbag smear ketchup into your coat while your ice cream melts in the boot of your car.

“Notify Dante, because we just laid the concrete for hell’s basement.”

He added: “Foreigners stroll around local markets before enjoying a tasty meal in a family-run restaurant and now we can have the same experience on a grey industrial estate where you can exchange your vouchers for some pretend happiness.”

Until yesterday Sainsburys was the champion of  retail misery by making people think of Jamie Oliver dribbling over their food every time they shopped as well as describing a mass-produced cottage pie like it was a new indie band.

But they were challenged strongly when Morrison’s paid Ant and Dec to prance around Britain pretending to talk to ruddy-faced suppliers while skilfully avoiding abattoirs and Eastern Europeans bent double over a beetroot field.

Hayes said: “You did it Tesco, you magnificent son of a bitch.”