Bank holidays, and other things you look forward to that end in crushing disappointment

IT’S great to have something exciting and enjoyable to look forward to. Unless it’s one of those much-anticipated events that end up being a huge letdown. Such as:

Bank holidays

Ace, a Friday or Monday off. You make ambitious plans – a country walk, a pub lunch – then on Monday it’s pissing down, your bored kids are already trashing the house like deranged mules, and all you can think about is being behind with your work. End up hiding in a quiet part of the house and fire up the works laptop. Bank holiday fun at its best.

A posh meal out

There’s a swanky new Indian restaurant in town and you’ve been dead excited about going. Arrive at your table to find there’s a shitfaced hen do next to you. Order loads of poppadums then find you’ve overdone it and really have to force the (amazing) main courses down. It will all fade into insignificance when the extortionate bill arrives, making you feel sick as a dog. Speaking of which, pick up some Gaviscon after all that not-particularly-enjoyable overeating.

Going to the match

You haven’t been to see your Premier League team play in ages but you’ve spaffed a crippling amount of money on a ticket. Spend half the day stuck in traffic getting to the ground, then discover there’s a complete pisshead behind you who insists on giving a running commentary like he’s Gary f**king Lineker. Oh, and they were shit and lost 3-0. Wouldn’t be so bad, but they were only playing f**king Watford.


It’s been a long, grey winter, and spring hasn’t been much better, so that guarantees a blazing summer to put 1976 in the shade, right? Wrong. It’ll be mid-August before you finally admit summer is not happening as you wake up to more wind and rain. Still, that guarantees September and October will be the unseasonal Indian summer you’ve always dreamt of, right?

A weekend city break

You’ve made plans to see the sights, but there’s a nightclub next door and you’re still wide awake at 3am listening to fighting and tuneless choruses of Sweet Caroline when it spews its drunken contents onto the street. You’re knackered and can’t face another night like that, so check out a day early and bugger off home. You’re also still wondering why, out of all the cities you could have stayed in, you chose f**king Bristol.


The kids are staying with your parents and you’re anticipating an evening of torrid intercourse. However you’ve already buggered it up by eating too late and can’t possibly contemplate shagging until your dinner’s gone down. You bizarrely decide to do it on the floor and, once it’s quickly over, you experience the grim reality of age as you both struggle to get back up again. Becoming a sexless couple who just watch TV and eat biscuits suddenly looks quite fun.

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Death is sad blah blah blah but move on for f**k's sake: A letter from your local Tory MP

DEAR constituent,

I know you are a sentimental fool who feels sad your nan died of Covid and angry that Boris was at a party while it happened, but it was two years ago, so man up and get over it.

We claim to be the party that is tough on crime, but it’s important that you understand we only mean some crime, and certainly not crime that that happened way back in 2020, and definitely not crime committed by the prime minister.

Boris has an important job to do, which means we have to allow him to f**k up with the little things so he can concentrate on the big things. I know you don’t think attending a party after explicitly banning them was a small thing, but that’s why we’re politicians and you aren’t, you pleb.

Getting upset about people who died in the recent past just isn’t worth it. It won’t bring your elderly relative back. And we don’t really want them back anyway, do we? Old people live miserable lives under Conservative rule, don’t pay tax and are a drain on the NHS so it’s the kindest thing for everyone that they’re dead. See, I can do compassion.

So let’s pull our socks up, put our best foot forward and forget all this silly, frivolous nonsense about parties. We’re fighting a war, you know. There’s a cost of living crisis, in case you hadn’t noticed. Our time would be much better spent doing f**k all about those things instead.

Yours sincerely,

Sir Denys Finch-Hatton, MP

PS. You’re bloody lucky to get a reply at all.

PPS. Vote for me at the next election or Labour will steal your children and turn them into non-binary Marxist eco-terrorists.