'Where the f**k is the toaster?': the seven stages of realising your flatmate's stolen half your stuff

ANY houseshare will one day experience a feeling of emptiness as they realise their departed flatmate has blatantly robbed them. These are the stages of your journey: 

One: Disbelief, or ‘Where the f**k is the toaster?’

It was there a second ago. ‘Did someone move the toaster?’ you message the flat chat, to be met with silence. You go back and check again, in case you managed to overlook an entire toaster.

Two: Denial, or ‘I know somebody won’t have taken the f**king toaster’

It would be impossible, because no one with a conscience could have run off with someone else’s toaster. It’s simply not something people do. Who would steal a toaster?

Three: Guilt, or ‘What the f**k did I do that made them take the toaster?’

Is this retribution? Karma? Revenge for a splash of stolen milk? Is this because you used their fancy new conditioner? Is the vanished toaster… justice?

Four: Anger and Bargaining, or ‘give me back the toaster and I won’t call the police’

No. It’s the fault of whoever nicked the toaster. You issue empty threats, and dream up wild schemes where you perform an elaborate Ocean’s Eleven heist on their new place, escaping with a toaster, Nutribullet and fridge-freezer.

Five: Depression, or ‘I f**king miss toast’

You loved that toaster. Actually you didn’t, it burnt everything on one side. But that’s not the point, it was your toaster and it shouldn’t be allowed to scorch anyone’s bread but yours.

Six: Reimagining, or ‘Maybe I can live without a toaster’

What does your life look like now? Emptier, for sure, and without that crispy golden crunch. Cereal seems alright – it will never replace toast, of course, but it’s okay to move on.

Seven: Acceptance, or ‘F**k it. I’m buying a new toaster’

You know they stole it, they know they stole it, and within less than 24 hours you’ve spent £27 at Argos on a new one. Which you’ll write your name on with a Sharpie because you can never bear to lose your toaster again.

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'F**k you and f**k your f**king kids,' says education minister

EDUCATION minister Gillian Keegan has followed up yesterday’s expletive-filled rant by informing the public they and their f**king kids can get f**ked. 

Keegan, who responded to questioning about a crisis threatening unknown numbers of children by complaining about how unappreciated she is, delievered the four-letter tirade on Good Morning Britain.

She said: “We’ve sent out f**king questionnaires, what else do you ignorant, shit-eating bastards want? Me in a hard hat checking the twatting ceilings myself?

“Honestly, f**k you and f**k your kids. You sit there on your fat lazy arses judging, judging and bloody judging when not one of you knew what f**king RAAC was until last week. Now you’re experts.

“Send your kids to a proper fee-paying school if you’re so concerned about them. Not going to do that, are you, wankers? But you’re out here clamouring for our money?

“Underinvestment? Hate to break it to you, but your shit-thick arse-faced progeny aren’t exactly an investment that pays f**king dividends. It’s cash down the drain when we could subsidise billionaires who’ll give us jobs after we lose the cocking election.

“So that’s my answer, Susanna. You can shove your f**king primary schools up your arse. And Rishi backs me all the way on this.”