Six low-carb meals that will leave you hungry and depressed

TRYING to cut down on carbs? Prepare these meals, eat them, feel sad and open a family bag of Monster Munch to weep into anyway.

Dry chicken and soggy broccoli

A favourite of celebs, who are famously deluded, this is the perfect combination for guaranteed discontentment. Steam your vegetables so they drip with shame, just like the tears dripping from your eyes. Don’t bother seasoning that arid lump of chicken because we all know you’re off to the chippy later.

Lettuce wrap

A substitute for a sandwich that no one wants. Choosing lettuce over bread is the definition of insanity. It doesn’t matter how much hummus you put inside that sad little leaf; it will taste of melancholy, despair and endless misery.


If you’re intent on ruining a good meal and becoming a dried husk of your former self, replace spaghetti with spiralised courgette. It will take f**king ages to make, ruin your bolognese sauce and generally be wet, bland, and disappointing, just like you are.

Cauliflower pizza

You can try to pretend that a cauliflower base is a viable substitute for that sweet, calorific dough, but you know that you’re lying to yourself, given that it’s unpleasantly moist and tastes of farts. Give up and order a Dominoes.


Attempt to enjoy as it takes you 50 minutes of chewing to get through a mound of tasteless, never-ending foliage. You’ll be left so ravenous that you’ll be found sobbing on your kitchen floor with massive fistfuls of bread in each emaciated hand. Stuff down some carbs and feel happy instead.

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Man finds going to pub too pleasant now

A MAN is disappointed by the post-lockdown pub experience as it appears to involve nothing more than having a quiet drink with friends at a table.

Tom Logan regards calmly queuing for entry and observing social distancing as a far cry from the authentic pub experience of acting like an absolute twat.

Logan said: “The whole point of going down the pub is barging through the door with your mates, shouting “OI OI!” at the whole room and brandishing a wad of cash at the bar man.

“I want to be standing in a circle with six other blokes, legs wide apart, laughing raucously every ten seconds, and spraying my phlegm far and wide.

“It’s not a bloody coffee morning, it’s not about sitting down for a civilised chat. It’s about shouting like a bellend, then offering someone out for a fight when they accidentally catch your eye.

“Coronavirus has made the pub experience far too nice. I’m going to go and burn some tyres in my front garden instead.”