Kirstie Allsopp's property diary: building a dream home up my own arse

YOUNG people can afford houses in areas that are cheap and undiscovered, as I plan to prove by building a three-bed family home for £120,000. Location? My anus.

4th Nov

Foundations finished so work begins on the walls. It’s strange and uncomfortable building a house up your bum – not to mention noisy! – but if it gets you on the property ladder, worth it. Sadly it’s a compromise young people are unwilling to make.

21st Nov

Slight panic: I’d completely forgotten about the lack of natural sunlight and a retractable canopy in my buttocks isn’t an option. Architect comes to the rescue by creating a clever reflecting lightwell through the sphincter. There are always solutions.

9th Dec

Inspected the building work by getting my head right up there. All on schedule, but I have to say the aroma of shit is pretty pervasive. The estate agent will have to make clear this is a working arsehole. It’s only like living next to a farm, and it shouldn’t affect the asking price.

19th Dec

Electricians making good progress with the wiring. I’ll admit the house doesn’t have the best views, because all you can see is my rectal walls. We’re going to jolly those up with a fun render and terracotta paint. It’ll be like the Mediterranean.

23rd Jan

Mixer taps installed and ensuite bathroom almost done. This really will be a lovely little home, except when I’ve been eating rich food.

29th Jan

Almost time to put the property on the market. Well within reach of a young couple earning £25k each a year who live frugally and don’t subscribe to Netflix. I’m not just maximising profit from my anal real estate. I’m helping society.

31st Jan

HOUSE FINISHED! Cracked open the bubbly. Four viewings arranged. We’ll get a buyer. This is Britain. If you’re not obsessed with buying a house you’re a weird pervert, like those men who do it with dolls.

4th Feb

Two young couples viewed the house today. The first have been living with their parents for eight years, saving every penny for a deposit. But I’m going to sell it to the second couple as a buy-to-let because they’re paying cash. In the end, I’ve got to do what’s best for my arse.

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Six pick-up lines to guarantee you'll be wanking alone by midnight

LOOKING to get lucky? Hoping you can do it by learning a few scripted lines, like a call-centre customer adviser of love?

‘Get your coat, you’ve pulled’

A classic for a reason. Not only do you come across as an arrogant twat, you also want to dispense with conversation or buying drinks or foreplay and get straight to the wildly disappointing sex. Does often end up with the target getting their coat to go somewhere you aren’t.

‘Feel my shirt, that’s boyfriend material’

As useless as it is confusing. Are you saying that your shirt itself should become this person’s sexual partner? And if some poor soul actually follows through on your request and realises that ‘boyfriend material’ is sweat-soaked polyester, is that likely to work?

‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’

The suppositions here are first, there’s heaven. Second, that an actual, apparently sexy, angel crashed down to earth and decided to head to a club night in Dorking called VaporBlast to drink WKD. Theologically it’s tricky. Practically it’ll get you told to f**k off.

‘There’s something wrong with my phone, it doesn’t have your number’

Trying to get a phone number before getting a name is kind of a dead giveaway as to your stalker intentions. You may well get a number. Enjoy spending a fortnight sending sexually aggressive misspelled texts to a fried chicken restaurant in Ealing.

‘You have 206 bones in your body. Fancy making it 207?’

Grossly anatomical and a 1970s sitcom innuendo leaves your paramour with no doubt as to your intentions of full penetrative intercourse. Will spark their imagination, as they fantasise about ripping out your spine and holding it aloft on the dancefloor.

‘The gun show’s in town’

Absolute, all-encompassing narcissism always sparks love. And in this case, as you flex your arms, the lady will be in no doubt that your one true passion is for yourself. Gracefully she will withdraw, leaving you to employ those kissable biceps in tugging yourself off at home.

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