Couple accepts they will never have sex adventurous enough to need a safeword

A COUPLE have agreed they are not really the type to have sex dangerous or boundary-crossing enough to need a safeword, and feel the lesser for it. 

Ryan Whittaker and Grace Wood-Morris have faced facts and ruefully agreed that since they do not like hurting each other or pretending to, they will never need the verbal emergency stop button that other, sexier couples rely upon.

Grace said: “I’m not really up for being whipped, spanked or slapped. Like the basic normcore bitch I am, I associate those acts with pain.

“Sex for me is about pleasure, and rather than safewords I employ phrases like ‘just there’ and ‘yes that’s good’ rather than having to call out ‘loganberry’ when he get carried away. Our love life peaks at a tepid room-temperature. I’ve come to terms with that.”

Whittaker agreed: “I don’t want to choke Grace. It would make me feel like a murderer which is not a way I want to feel when I’m naked with an erection.

“It’s crushing, admitting our lovemaking is boring, regional and focused on intimacy when it could be so much more risky and thrilling. But we basically like missionary and bringing each other to satisfying orgasms. I know.”

Grace’s mother Janet said: “They should still establish a safeword. I wouldn’t be without mine, which I use to avoid sex altogether.”

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'How did he find the time?': Inappropriate questions you want Gregg Wallace to answer

LEERING cockney Gregg Wallace has been sacked after a round 50 allegations of inappropriate behaviour. But leaving key questions unanswered: 

‘How did he fit it in?’ 

He was presenting everything. But somehow, while already facing a large number of credible allegations of misconduct, managed to fit in another 50. How? If you stopped work every few minutes to drop your trousers or offer to munch on a co-worker’s vagina you’d get nothing done. He’s a grafter, give him that.

‘What does this mean for Gregg as a lover?’ 

He wouldn’t shut up about sex. So your sick fascination with his abomination compels you to wonder about his bedroom performance. Pumping away like a gurning bowling ball until he climaxes noisily, then rounding off with a laboured smutty comment like ‘How’s that for a nice bit of pork in your creamy sauce?’ Yes.

‘How honest are Gregg’s partners with themselves?’

They’re blameless in this. But have they looked in the mirror and asked: ‘Am I only with the salacious gobshite potato man because of his money? Does he really have a good sense of humour when his jokes largely consist of telling frightened women he’s not wearing any pants?’

‘Can I still buy a MasterChef frying pan?’ 

Is it ethical to buy cookware associated with a show whose management allowed dozens of women to be sexually harassed? The answer is: the BBC and Shine sure as hell won’t be ditching a cash cow like MasterChef, so go ahead and buy that pan and live out your lifelong fantasy of being John Torode.

‘Are all celebrities bastards?’ 

A recognised presenter guarantees viewers for a show basically about f**king up a shepherd’s pie, which is why Gregg’s persistent lack of underwear was overlooked. But his skillset boils down to: knowing a bit about food, thinking you’re hilarious, and being an arsehole. Be lavishly rewarded for that and anyone would assume a world without boundaries.

‘Should I be like Gregg?’ 

The venal part of your brain can’t help but note that Gregg is now rich and retired. So should you pursue TV stardom by becoming an egotistical lech with minimal talent? Only you can make that decision, but don’t mess it up by committing a staggering amount of sexual harassment. Limit yourself to groping two arses a week.