Travelodge replaces 'Do Not Disturb' signs with 'Caution, Sad Businessman Wanking'

DISCOUNT hotel chain Travelodge has swapped its ‘Do Not Disturb’ signs for ones warning that the room’s lone occupant is mid-wank. 

Sick of staff entering rooms to change linen only to find a middle-aged man flat on his back strumming his ugly genitals to Black Swan on Freeview, exectives agreed to make the subtext of their door signs explicit.

A spokesman said: “Realistically what other private business would anyone be enacting in a Travelodge room? A high-class cocktail party with a glittering guestlist?

“No, the only possible reason any of our tragic, lonely clientele ever choose to lock themselves in to what amounts to a prison cell is because they’re cracking one out.

“So we’ve changed the signage to reflect this reality, with a graphic of a middle-aged man who’s had KFC and a milkshake for his evening meal staring at a wall with his cock in his hand, ready for the underwhelming wank that will be the stay’s highlight.

Guest Oliver O’Connor said: “It’s no wonder the company always books me in a Travelodge on a retail park outside Llanelli. They know me and my people.

“I can hang one of these signs on my door and rest assured that I won’t be interrupted until I’ve reached completion and remove it, two minutes and 17 seconds later.”

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Bolton dad takes family to London to show them how much it costs

A FATHER from Lancashire has taken his family to London for the day so they can see the incredible prices. 

Joe Turner took his wife and daughters to the capital yesterday to marvel at sights that are the talk of the north, such as 12 quid ‘for a frigging cake’.

Lucy Turner, aged 13, said: “We went to all the attractions: the Tower of London, St Paul’s Cathedral and a West End show, all to stand outside and proclaim ‘How much?’

“We were all agog at what they charge for a pint. And those skyscrapers! There was one with a view of the Shard renting for £7,830 a month in the estate agent’s window. ‘Two year of that and we’d own our house,’ Dad said.

“It’s brilliant family bonding time. Whether we’re getting photos of Dad slack-jawed at the cost of a Pret croissant, Mum shaking her head at artisanal ice-cream or just milk in a Tesco Express, we’re all amazed.”

Joe said: “London was mental enough when I was a skint student in the 90s, but now? All these London Eyes and Tate Moderns and food markets where you’re shelling out a tenner for something called frittata? Mind-blowing.

He added: “And the people! You just don’t get rudeness like that north of Watford.”