All boyfriends low-maintenance

EVERY single boyfriend is a low-maintenance partner with easily met expectations for gifts, affection and texts, it has emerged.

While girlfriends demand frequent compliments, regular contact and thoughtful spontaneous presents, their partners are happy with occasional sex and an Amazon voucher for their birthdays, they have confirmed.

Girlfriend Helen Archer said: “My boyfriend is less demanding than my aloe vera plants. I have to water them once a week while Ryan can heat up his own Dr Oetker pizzas.

“I have to smell nice in rooms that smell nice, need layered haircuts and regular pedicures, and if he doesn’t text me at lunch to say he’s missing me it means he doesn’t love me anymore and he’s met someone else.

“While he sleeps on a mattress, gets his hair cut by saying a number to a Polish man, and wears the same Fat Willy’s T-shirt he’s had since he was 16. I washed and ironed it once but it made him sad.

“He’s so laid back I can go for months or even years without taking into account his needs. It’s like he’s been socially conditioned not to articulate his emotions in case it jeopardises his chances of sex. It’s weird.”

She added: “I want a Space NK candle for Christmas, and I’ve clearly hinted which one if he’s been paying attention, and if he gets me the wrong one we’re over.”

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Someone sitting in your reserved train seat, and other excellent reasons to start a fight

STARTING a punch-up is usually a bad idea caused by drink and an unresolved relationship with your father. But these slights cannot be ignored:

Crisps at the cinema

Some f**kers can’t get through a two-hour film without stuffing their pig faces. That’s regrettably accepted. But crisps? Onion-stinking crunchy crisps? That’s a human rights violation and it’s entirely reasonable for you to reach over the seats and twat them in.

Sitting in your reserved seat

Trains are shit enough already. But when some wanker is ensconced in your reserved seat and refuses to move? You will not be forced to waddle back down the aisle like a luggage-draped duck, so they better piss off or you’ll wedge them in the luggage rack like a Tetris piece.

Taking your wheelie bin

You’ve had your house number etched on your wheelie bin to eliminate any doubt that this is your refuse receptacle. Nobody else should even touch it, but that arsehole at number 44 has dragged it onto their drive leaving you with their identical but inferior one. Which means war.

Queue jumping

To Britain, queueing is more sacred than the monarch’s nipples. There’s no excuse for not taking your allotted place in line. If anyone tries, even if it’s your 98-year-old grandmother, brain them with the fold-out stool you brought to be part of an orderly, peaceful queue.

Blocking your drive

It doesn’t matter if you needed to get your car out or not. Blocking your drive is unforgiveable. Even the Pope would drop the holier-than-thou act and raise his fists at this provocation, and you best believe he’d kick serious arse.

Tutting

You’re trying to remember your PIN at the cashpoint when some impatient bastard audibly tuts behind you. They might as well have spat right into your face. You’ll take as much time as you bloody need, once you’ve finished your own non-verbal act of violence.

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