British son f**ked again by US Mother’s Day mix-up

A BRITISH man has once again been f**ked over by Google’s assertion that Mother’s Day falls in May. 

28-year-old Jordan Gardner planned not to give his mother a single thought this weekend, as usual, until his idle thought that cards were in Sainsbury’s Local early this year turned into the dawning realisation that he had done this again.

He said: “F**k. Bloody Americans. I swear they move this bastard around.

“Last year I didn’t even realise I’d missed it and presented my nonplussed mother with a basket of Lush shit two months’ late. And then she insisted on keeping it even though technically I was within my rights to take it back.

“This year I saw adverts online and thought ‘I’m not falling for that again,’ but apparently they were appropriate to my region this time, and if I’d just clicked and sent my mum flowers she wouldn’t be ignoring my texts today.

“I can’t win. It’s Schrödinger’s Mother’s Day. Whichever cup I guess the ball is under, it’s the wrong one. If they can’t make this as uncomplicated as birthdays and Christmas, I’m out. Sorry Mum. I’m just not comfortable with the level of risk.”

Mother Ivy Gardner said: “Your sister texted and told you the date last Wednesday. She was here when she did it.”

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Lads' pub chat dries up after all 90s footballers named

A GROUP of lads out for an all-day session have lapsed into silence after exhausting their stock of ironic football-based banter. 

The group of six men in their 20s roared through the naming of little-remembered footballers from the dawn of the Premiership era in less than two pints, leaving them hanging on the final mention of Roland Nilsson.

Julian Cook, aged 45, said: “Nothing beats the guffaws of respect around the table when you’ve shouted out a zinger like Sagi Burton.

“Sneaking in Ceri Hughes was a huge shout for me to kill the chat about Millsy’s wedding. Come on, that’s not what we’re here for lads, banter only please.

“But after lionising Steve Stone as England’s greatest player of the decade – bollocks, but good for an argument – and discussing whether Handy Andy would have made a decent manager we found conversation running dry.

“Pierre van Hooijdonk got us back on track but I was forced to bring up legends only the streets remember like Andrea Silenzi to stop us hearing a repeated name before my third Carlsberg. Maybe we alphabetise every Championship player by nickname next week?

“At least we’ve moved on from discussing our nichest Zoo magazine wanks. Temporarily. And since you ask, Michelle Marsh all bloody day.”