Bastard getting hotter with age

A TOTAL scumbag is defying the ageing process by getting more attractive as the years pass by, it has emerged.

50-year-old silver fox Norman Steele has not succumbed to the ravages of time as he is supposed to, and has instead improved with age like a fine wine, to the annoyance of everyone who knows him.

Friend Martin Bishop said: “I’ve known Norman since we were teenagers. Back then I’d bully him for his gawky looks, like his hamster cheeks and his overbite. Oh how the tables have turned.

“With each passing year his infuriating body finds new ways to get more and more attractive, meanwhile mine is gradually degenerating into a flabby, toothless heap. Even his receding hairline gives him a refined air whereas my bald spot just looks deeply repellent.”

Colleague Wayne Hayes said: “I hoped the wrinkles around his eyes would be a turn-off, but the women in the office swooned over him even harder when those craggy lines set in. Can’t he develop a liver spot or two to balance things out? It’s only fair.”

Steele said: “What’s my secret? A good diet and regular exercise. Oh, and winning the genetic lottery probably helped too.”

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Microwave popcorn, and four seemingly easy foods you always f**k up

DESPITE being embarrassingly simple to prepare, there are certain foodstuffs you’ll always manage to screw up somehow. Like these:


In a moment of arrogant madness you decided to stray from the faithful boil-in-the-bag rice and get loose grains. Oh Icarus. Be prepared for your dinner to be an utter travesty. The rice will end up sticking to the pan, before turning into a sort of gruel that will be somehow both wet and crunchy.

Microwave popcorn

If you survive being blinded by the steam when you tear open the bag, you’ll be greeted by either a smouldering mass of charred popcorn or a mountain of unpopped kernels. Unless you sit with your ear pressed to the microwave listening to the pops like you’re cracking a safe, you’ll make a balls of this.


You enter the kitchen with the intention of making a reasonable amount of spaghetti for your bolognese this evening. You follow the instructions on the packet, exactly. Yet 15 minutes later you’re huddled over the sink straining enough pasta to feed a large Italian village. 


Despite owning a machine whose sole purpose is to make toast, your bread will regularly be obliterated. Just when you’ve got the settings right, your twat of a flatmate will come along with a doorstopper piece of rye bread and set the toaster to max, incinerating your bread when you next use it.


In a vain health kick you’ve ditched the Frosties for porridge. But since you aren’t an 18th century farmhand getting up at 6am to put oatmeal on the stove, you use a microwave. After a couple of minutes you’ll hear a loud bang and find the inside of your microwave coated in a sort of molten Scottish magma.