The top eight meals for irrevocably ruining your clothes

30th May 2025

PLANNING to eat food in the near future? Avoid these foodstuffs that seem to take sadistic pleasure in ruining your clothes.

Beetroot

The pickled testicles of Satan with a taste to match. Why did you decide to eat these in the first place? Now you’ve insanely opted to have some on the side of your salad, extracting the bastards from the jar will splash their indelible juice on your shirt. No amount of Vanish will help, and as a bonus you’ll go for a shit tomorrow and panic because you think your arse has haemorrhaged.

Doner kebab

Kebabs are designed to fall to shit the moment you try to eat one, which you’ll think is because you’re pissed, not realising chip shop staff just balance them together like that for a laugh. The grease will go everywhere, as will the chilli sauce, and in the morning your top will be both filthy and stink. You may have a distressing flashback of picking up a choice bit of meat from the pavement.

Pot Noodles

It’s a little-known fact that Pot Noodles are actually living, evil entities, hell-bent on wrecking your jeans. The malevolent little bastards will wait until you’ve cleared the safety zone of the pot en route to your mouth before making a kamikaze leap at your groin. Thwart them by boiling the kettle, filling the pot, then chucking the whole thing in the bin where it belongs.

Cheese Wotsits

Thanks to their orange, glow-in-the-dark, loosely-cheese-flavoured coating, you need to be sure to lick your fingers clean after popping each mouthful in. But you’re watching telly and not concentrating, so your subliminal instinct to absent-mindedly wipe them on your T-shirt will kick in. Under no circumstances eat them while watching porn or you’ll end up with a bright orange cock like you suspect Trump must have.

Chocolate ice cream

Ice cream is a shit idea when it comes to eating without getting in a mess. By definition you’ll want one when it’s sunny and warm, but the bastard will be melting before you’ve even handed over your cash to the man in the van. By the time you’ve clumsily finished, everyone else in the park will think you’ve wiped your arse on your new blouse.

Coq au Vin

You’ll have a good giggle at the name on the menu of the horribly dated bistro you’re in, but the red wine will have the last laugh. Drips will inevitably find their way from fork to shirt and take up permanent residence. And no, you can’t get it out by putting white wine on it. You’ll just be wasting white wine. And encouraging people to make bullshit ‘life hack’ TikToks.

Pizza

Pizzas look sturdy enough in the box, and even have a reassuring crust to pick slices up by. But as they travel from the box to your mouth they’ll go floppier than Prince Andrew at a 40-plus speed dating night. The tomato sauce will make a beeline for your trousers and Domino’s is always good for a large grease stain. That’ll teach you to make a sandwich instead of being a fat lazy bastard.

Anything with f**king turmeric

Many genres of Asian cuisine use turmeric, not because it tastes of anything, but because it adds a unique shade of orange to sauces which otherwise look like diarrhoea. Unfortunately it’ll also stain your clothes a gaudy shade of tangerine. And never be tempted to go all middle-class and buy the pure root form to cook with at home, unless you want fingers that look like you’re a 50-a-day smoker for the rest of your life.

My day living my fantasy of being a PCSO, by Robert Jenrick

30th May 2025

I’VE always dreamt of being a police community support officer, so I jumped at the chance to confront the worst type of criminal scum threatening our society: fare dodgers.

As shadow justice secretary, I’d been asked to take part in a prestigious Channel 5 documentary in which I would tackle the issue of fare evasion on the Tube in person. So I arrived in full PCSO uniform I had rented from a TV costume company: stab vest, fluorescent jacket, a hat like a real policeman’s if you don’t look too closely. The power was intoxicating.

Unfortunately the producer was adamant that we could not do anything that involved impersonating a police officer. No matter. I would take down the villains in my normal clothes. Being an undercover PCSO was even more exciting!

And so we began a tense stake-out of Stratford East underground station. After just two hours of waiting, criminal mayhem erupted in front of me. A man in a suspicious blue shirt slipped through a closing barrier – clearly a career criminal living the high life on all the £2.90 fares he was saving.

‘D’you wanna go back to the barrier and pay?’ I said menacingly. At which point he just walked off, because, like a PCSO, I’m not actually authorised to make arrests. But I could tell the minor inconvenience had made him think twice about tangling with the law in the future.

Another adrenalin-pumping incident soon followed. A man wandered through an open barrier so I confusingly asked him if he was carrying a knife because I’d misheard him telling me to move. He walked off too. ‘Do you feel lucky, punk?’ I shouted after him. He got the message.

I was eager to apprehend more dangerous criminals, but the producer said we’d got enough footage so my short but highly worthwhile stint as a ‘police officer’ came to an end. As well as upholding the law I would be on TV, which is important if I’m going to become leader instead of that snooty cow Badenoch.

And, of course, I still had my rented PCSO uniform, which I thought would be ideal for some saucy bedroom roleplay with my wife that evening. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You’re enough of a wanker as it is.’ I don’t care. I am the law.