Pine needles announce they're going f**king nowhere

THE pine needles that have dropped from your Christmas tree have confirmed you will still be finding them buried in the carpet years from now.

They will also be turning up next to the skirting board, inside your socks, under the cooker and in the upholstery of your car for at least a decade.

In a statement, Britain’s pine needles said: “To put it plainly, we are not f**king off any time soon. We are legion and we will not be defeated.

“For those of you who think you have been clever and sat your tree on a sheet on top of the carpet, please know that we will still find a way to linger in the nooks and crannies of your house forever.

“Like sand from a beach holiday, or memories of an ill-advised and disappointing shag with a colleague, we will be bothering you for an infuriatingly long time.”

Nathan Muir, from Bridport, said: “Despite the fact that putting up a real tree in the living room is expensive, wasteful, and confusing for the cat, we always do it. Christmas wouldn’t be the same without one.

“But how is it possible that humanity can go to the moon, perform heart transplants and perfectly place a hazelnut in the centre of a Ferrero Rocher, but still not have mastered vacuum cleaner technology that reliably sucks up pine needles?”

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Grandchildren gifted cheques they will never manage to pay in

YOUNG people all over the country are baffled after receiving small rectangles of paper for Christmas.

Rather than getting the iPhones they asked for, many Gen-Zers were given slips of paper with writing on that left them disappointed and confused.

14-year-old Jack Browne said: “Grandpa didn’t get me a present this year, the tight old git, he just gave me a really plain, flimsy Christmas card. Couldn’t even be bothered to write a nice message, just put my name on the top and his at the bottom. I binned it immediately.”

A-level student Charlotte Phelps said: “Poor Grandad, he’s going senile. He gave me some money for Christmas, but it didn’t have a picture of the Queen or King or anything, it just said ‘fifty pounds’ in shaky handwriting. I think he made it himself, bless.”

Her brother James said: “I’ve heard about these things. It’s called a ‘cheque’ and it’s a bit like a gift voucher for real money. Apparently, the amount written on the front can be put into your bank account if you go to a special building in your nearest town. But I’m never going to do that.”

Grandfather Bill McKay said: “I knew the grasping little shits wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a cheque, so I’ve spent all my money on cognac. Cheers!”