Stop communicating via GIFs, morons told

PEOPLE who communicate using GIFs have been told to f**king pack it in and string a sentence together.

The Institute for Studies found that overuse of GIFs rapidly becomes irritating, and makes you look like one of those monkeys that communicates by pointing at pictures.

Professor Henry Brubaker said: “GIFs like the one of Big Brother contestant Elissa Slater laughing so hard she spits out her drink are a poor substitute for using words like an evolved human being.

“They’re the internet equivalent of canned laughter. Attaching a GIF of Ryan Reynolds facepalming does not underline your point. He doesn’t know who you are, and there is literally no chance he will be following your mindless posts on Twitter.

“Using a GIF once in a while is acceptable. But like swear words they need to be deployed sparingly to achieve their desired effect. If they’re your primary means of expression you need to sort your f**king life out.

“In my opinion the only suitable time to use a GIF is when you just want the conversation to end, and we’ve already got the ‘like’ button to do that.”

Office manager Tom Booker said: “I’ve got to lay off loads of my staff this week and I’m dreading it. If I email everyone their P45s with a GIF of Pikachu crying I reckon that’ll soften the blow for all of us.”

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Dad secretly relieved son got fewer GCSEs than him

A FATHER privately punched the air when he learned that his son only got six GCSEs compared with his own nine.

Martin Bishop had been anxious for months that his son, Kyle, would exceed his own tally and thereby prove himself the most intelligent male in the house.

But even after the government U-turn and teacher assessments, it turned out that Kyle still failed three of his exams, a source of great joy to his dad.

Bishop said: “Like any father, I offered my son a consoling hug and told him I was proud of him. Only when he went off to meet up with friends did I let out a massive ‘YESSS!’.

“I worked hard for my GCSEs and it would have cheapened my achievement if my apathetic, smartphone-addled pipsqueak of a son had outshone me.

“He seemed to be knuckling down at one point, which concerned me. So I told him, ‘Son, lighten up, go and have a drink with your mates. Maybe every night.’ And he did.

“So what? He won’t go to Hallam ‘university’ to graduate in Adele Studies, boo hoo. I win.”