Have you got hay fever or are you just a miserable bastard?

ARE you constantly complaining?

Take our test to find out if you have hay fever or are just a miserable sod.

1. Your nose won’t stop running, what do you do?

A. Plug it with toilet paper and crack on, ignoring the fact you look like a walrus with bog roll tusks.  

B. Complain endlessly that you feel as if you are suffering the effects of a heavy weekend but without actually doing any lovely cocaine.

2. Your eyes start watering non-stop – do you:

A. Enjoy pretending to be Forest Gump at Jenny’s grave. 

B. Admit you are still crying over accidentally leaving a tenner tip at Pizza Express when you only meant to leave a fiver because the dough balls were cold.

3. The back of your throat starts itching, what do you do?

A. Delight in making a weird wookiee-like snorking sound. 

B. Bitch about how fucking easy bees have it. All they do is fly around going into lovely flowers and picking up pollen like some cute, fuzzy DHL driver with a sword for an arse.  And they have the audacity to call themselves ‘workers,’ they couldn’t do five minutes in your job.

Mostly As – You have hay fever but are making the best of this tiresome affliction, like a good soldier.

Mostly Bs – You are a miserable bastard. And if you think it’s bad now, just wait until the winter.

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Quaint market town would secretly love massive Tesco

RESIDENTS of a sleepy Shropshire market town would be absolutely stoked if a massive Tesco opened, they have confirmed. 

Approximately 1,500 of Bishop’s Castle’s 1,630 residents are secretly hoping the retailer will despoil their beautful town with a huge Tesco Extra, while the others would lose their jobs.

Joe Turner said: “It could be as big as the town itself for me. Just imagine.

“Parking that’s not all clogged with tourists, buying groceries without having to hear about Jan’s mother’s dog’s vet bill, and not paying £2.20 a time for a bottle of own-brand ketchup.

“Sherry who runs the cafe and second-hand bookshop’s launching a campaign against it. Of course she is. Her and Martin from the Co-op, whose stranglehold is killing this town.

“Pushing a gleaming trolley down aisles as wide as the ocean. Heaping it with TVs and clothing. Corporate, homogenised, but to me beautiful.

“And I’d have a Wetherspoons. I’m sick to fucking death of 400-year-old pubs with their locally-brewed craft ales.”