Oat milk f**ks up tea and anyone who says otherwise is lying

PUTTING oat milk in tea ruins it and anyone who tries to convince you otherwise is a lying bastard, it has been confirmed.

Despite the growing popularity of milk alternatives, there is nothing apart from dairy milk that won’t turn a lovely cup of tea into a curdled, vile-tasting mess.

Tea drinker Lucy Parry said: “I get that oat milk is better for the planet, but it completely destroys a nice cuppa. You have to pour in half the carton to get it to even approximately the correct shade of brown and then it’s full of nasty bits floating around.

“Same goes for soya, rice, almond, cashew, hemp and all the other ones. And don’t even get me started on coconut. In tea? Are you having a f**king laugh?

“I’ll happily have any alternative milk you like on cereal or in a cup of coffee. It even tastes quite nice. But mix it with tea and you’ve got a concoction that looks and tastes like Satan’s diarrhoea.

“So if you see a smug article in a weekend supplement about some twat who claims not to be able to taste the difference, they’re lying to you and themselves, the stupid hippy bellends.”

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The real victim in all this? A sad, lonely Prince. By the Duke of York

JUSTICE has prevailed and thanks to a very large sum of money I have been proven innocent. But it’s easy to forget the real victim in all this: me.

I stand here a sad, lonely figure, my good name besmirched and deeply out of pocket – money that could have paid for luxury golfing holidays, Swiss chalets and visits from masseuses I need for my tragic sweat gland condition.

The higher you climb, the further you fall. Before these allegations I was a much-loved, respected member of the Royal Family (probably the most-loved). The nation is still eternally grateful for the joy I brought them in 1987’s It’s A Royal Knockout.

Now I’m not even patron of London Metropolitan University, although frankly it’s a relief not to have to visit that dingy remedial pleb-hole. Unlike the English National Ballet. They had some cracking fillies and very well-spoken too.

I didn’t actually do anything as colonel-in-chief of the Royal Irish regiment and all those made-up military roles, but you name me one royal with a proper job. What does Kate do? ‘Occasional hockey-playing stick insect’? Give me a break.

Yes, it takes a proud man to say ‘Life’s not fair, it’s just not bloody fair’. All I did was befriend a rich American financier with a creepy interest in young women, and suddenly it’s from Falklands hero to sex pervert zero.

Perhaps I should be thankful I’ve avoided an ordeal at the hands of the American justice system, but I feel compelled to say this: thanks a f**king lot, Mum. And you, Charles, you pompous arse. The only reason you talk to plants is they can’t get away.

All I can do is celebrate alone as best I can with a bottle or three of Bollinger from the cellar. I’d give Fergie a call, but she’s really looking her age these days.

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