Man's ideal anniversary gift realistic expectations of sexual performance

A MAN feels the perfect anniversary gift from his wife would be low expectations about his sexual performance later.

Although Tom Booker appreciates the expensive cologne his wife Grace gave him, what would make the evening truly special would be if she was content with unsatisfying sex rapidly followed by sleep.

Booker said: “I had a hot bath with rose petals in and a glass of champagne waiting for her, which I hoped would make her drowsy and we might not even have to leave the house. Unfortunately it just seems to have perked her up.

“Now we’ve gone for a meal that’s costing me the best part of 300 quid. It’s really nice and Grace has eaten loads, so I was hoping she’d be really full and sleepy, which would take some of the sexual pressure off me. 

“No such luck. She seems even livelier than before so it looks as if halfway decent sex will be required. Luckily I haven’t wanked for a couple of days, I’ve probably got an extra five or ten minutes in me.

“My only hope now is that the cumulative effect of the wine knocks her out and we’ll be on the sofa watching Hostage soon, then an early night. Isn’t this Rioja nice, darling? Let’s have another really big glass.”

Grace Booker said: “After 20 years of marriage I’m expecting a full reenactment of our honeymoon, including two unbroken hours of near-continual sex, to be continued in the morning. No pressure or anything.”

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Man who collected spent fireworks in 1970s childhood cannot fathom why

A MAN who spent at least three years of his youth saving spent fireworks in jars cannot now comprehend why he did that.

Joseph Turner, aged 54, used to spend every November 6th hunting for burnt-out Roman candles and fallen rockets then collect the charred remains, a set of actions he now struggles to justify even to himself.

He said: “Kids love fireworks, that bit makes sense. But for some reason I wasn’t able to let go.

“I guess it’s hard to remember just how grey, shit and dull life was in the 1970s, with no telly and piss-all to do but build ambitious dens on waste ground which equally bored older kids would kick down the same day.

“Then, one night a year, there was fire and explosions and excitement and the delicious scent of money being spent frivolously. I suppose I tried to hold onto that magic, like a child in communist Bulgaria would treasure a precious empty Coca-Cola can.

“But what I ended up with was two shelves of jars full of ashes like I was living in the back room of a crematorium. My mum threw them out, as all 70s mums did with anything their children owned. I don’t think I even moaned.”

He added: “F**king today’s elder millennials with their 90s childhoods collecting pogs and Pokemon cards. They don’t know they’re f**king born.”