The teenage first-timer's guide to rolling a spliff

AS a 19-year-old fresher who’s bought weed twice, Jack Browne is an expert at rolling spliffs and it often only takes three goes. Here he talks you through it.

First, assemble your kit. Big Rizlas. Three packs of little Rizlas in case you have to stick three together. Roach cardboard. Artist’s knife and cutting board. Sellotape.

Second, lay the Rizla out reverentially and sprinkle your weed, hash or chronic onto it. Don’t put much in so it will last longer. Add tobacco in thick clumps.

Lick the Rizla. Realise you have licked the non-gummy bit of the Rizla which is now wet paper and sticking to the other side, only a bit but enough to scatter the contents everywhere. Return to step two.

Lick the Rizla. Try to roll smoothly and evenly so all the tobacco compacts into a cylinder, then neatly seal. This will not go as planned. The tobacco will make a desperate break for freedom and the paper will stick to it. Pick apart and return to step one.

Lick the Rizla. Manage to contain the tobacco, but in a cone of paper with a tiny aperture at one end and wide open at the other. Hold it up proudly and watch the contents fall out. Return to step bloody one.

Lick the Rizla. Form a workable compromise between a cylinder and a cone. Rizla now sticking to your sweaty fingers. Tear off roach, roll between fingers and completely f**k up the paper trying to force it in. Return to step one.

Lick the f**king Rizla. Form a compromise. Try to put the roach in. It falls out. Try again. It falls out, and the Rizla is becoming unstuck. Resort to Sellotape.

Congratulations! Now smoke, discovering as you do so that it’s too tight to draw smoke through without becoming light-headed, and count this as a win.

Sign up now to get
The Daily Mash
free Headlines email – every weekday

Dad only capable of expressing emotion when cars involved

A FAMILY has realised that their patriarch is only truly able to display his feelings in situations that involve cars.

Martin Bishop, 49, believes that crying at sad films or laughing with joy are activities for women and children, and is only capable of expressing emotion when confronted with flat tyres and snapped timing belts.

Daughter Lucy said: “Dad would never shed a tear over a nostalgic song or the death of a beloved family pet. That’s the sort of thing he calls ‘touchy-feely bollocks’.

“However, when my brother scratched the Honda coming out of Tesco the other week, he let out an anguished wail and kept muttering ‘Poor baby, she’ll never be the same again.’

“Mum says he didn’t cry on their wedding day, and when I was born he was more moved by the impressive size of the hospital car park spaces. Even when his own dad died he just seemed sort of mildly irritated by all the hassle.

“It’s probably a good thing that he’s able to let it all out by weeping on the hard shoulder of the M1 when the car breaks down, but, I’m not going to lie, it makes things a bit awkward with the AA man.”