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Good day, sir! I am a man down the pub trying to sell you shoplifted chocolate

GOOD evening, welcome to this fine inner-city hostelry the tourists do not frequent. Can I tempt you to a large bar of Dairy Milk? 

No, sir, I am not a licensed seller of confectionery. More of an entrepreneur, which is why my wares can be offered at such competitive prices. Box of Lindor truffles for your good lady?

How did I obtain such a delectable range of toothsome comestibles? Ah, well thereby hangs a tale of derring-do to match those of folk heroes Robin Hood and Dick Turpin! For I, with my own hands, shoplifted them from my local branch of the Co-op!

Yes, I am a familiar face in those aisles, which is why I call in at only the busiest times when the staff are most distracted. When there are queues for sausage rolls and an elderly gentleman seeks to put £20 on his gas card; that is my time.

I make my way over to the chocolate, alcohol now being protected from my depredations, and not to put to fine a point on it, I fill my trousers. And my jacket, and this sweater you see here which has remained unwashed for many months.

Then, espied by security who relish our game of cat-and-mouse as much as I, I flee. I run as fast as my shaking legs can carry me, still loaded with chocolate bars around my intimate areas. Only when safely hidden in a grimy back alley do I count my spoils.

And here they are for you now, good people, fresh and discounted. Tony’s Chocolonely? Lindt Intense Dark? This Toblerone which wedged so neatly in my cleft?

No? Suit yourselves. It saddens me so many do not recognise a bargain when they see one.

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Paddington, and five other icons of quirky Britishness that can f**k off now

OUR culture is full of wonderful creations the public once had great affection for who have been overused to the point we now hate them. All these need to piss off: 

Paddington Bear

Once a beloved icon of children’s literature, revived in two magical films, but there’s no coming back after you’ve sold out to have afternoon tea with the Queen. The last film was crap and his plastic replicas on town centre benches are regularly pissed on by students. Post-Baftas, he should be banished to Cyprus in cultural exile like Kevin Spacey.

Harry Potter

The books were enjoyable when you were a kid and didn’t know any better. The films were decent before you learned about acting and that Daniel Radcliffe couldn’t. The Fantastic Beasts films and JK Rowling’s transphobia gave everyone an excuse to walk away forever. It would be irresponsible not to take advantage of it.

Doctor Who

Sixty-odd years is a good innings for a TV show. It gave audiences bangers like Genesis of the Daleks and Blink, but it subjected them to the Colin Baker era, an EastEnders crossover and Russell Davies’s reimagining of the whole of time and space as subservient to the ideals of woke. Let it die. Maybe come up with something new instead?

Peter Rabbit

Not quite as overused as the others – mercifully, we’ve yet to see the announcement of a shared Beatrix Potter cinematic universe – but what was once a mischievous rabbit became an ASBO arsehole tarnished with the vocal talents of James Corden. Plus he’s anti-farmer so his next appearance will be death by shotgun live on Clarkson’s Farm. 

James Bond

They can’t find an actor because the whole concept is anachronistic bollocks. All Bond films are good for is a theme song and padding out the ITV2 schedule on a Bank Holiday weekend. Even in the world of 007 everyone was so tired of him they killed him off.

The Royals

Tolerable when the Queen was still around, like everyone had a gran they’d briefly pay attention to at Christmas if they couldn’t find the remote. But she’s gone, Andrew’s misdeeds have not coincidentally now come to light, it’s time to declare the whole sorry farce over. Kate can stay on as the nation’s Head Girl if she wants.

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