Badgers still unable to cross a f**king road

BADGERS remain utterly incapable of crossing roads while avoiding oncoming traffic, anyone who drove through a rural area over the weekend has confirmed. 

The woodland animals, despite having close to a century to get used to the idea, have evidently yet to master the art of not stopping dead directly in front of a five-tonne HGV travelling at sixty miles per hour.

Professor Henry Brubaker, of the Institute for Studies, said: “Farmers can stop asking for a badger cull. Judging by the roads, there’s one already in rapid progress.

“These animals have been around for millions of years. They’ve beaten predators, ice ages and the destruction of their habitats. Is it really too much to ask that they look both ways before strolling out onto the A34?

“Our roads are lined with their corpses. What are they even crossing for? They mainly eat invertebrates which exist in ample quantities on both sides of major highways.

“Fair enough if this was the 1950s and the Morris Minor was relatively unknown, but come on. I’m not saying they need to memorise the entire Highway Code, but a few basics might be nice.

“The rest of the Tufty Club seem to make it. You don’t see squirrels or rabbits anywhere near as often because they were taught to stop, look, listen. But do badgers bother? Do they bollocks.”

Badger Martin Bishop said: “See that big thing coming at us really fast? I reckon I can f**k it right up.”

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'The females don their cock deely-boppers for the ritual to commence': Sir David Attenborough narrates a hen party

NATURALIST, naturist and national treasure Sir David Attenborough has turned his analytical eye to the brutal and feral rituals of the hen party. 

“In order to mark the entry into womanhood of a 33-year-old accounts manager from Doncaster, the females are invited into a WhatsApp group. And so it begins.

“The hierarchy of the herd determines those convened to this time-honoured rite of passage, with the blondest taking primacy. Though there will be wise elders, such as mothers, workmates and nans, incapacitated by drink early.

“They become a source of awkwardness later once males – selected for their attractive plumage and physical strength – are assembled before the bride to engage in a traditional G-stringed mating dance symbolising the loss of her last vestiges of girlhood.

“As the pack stalks the raw, savage plains of Bradford, the hens assert their herd identity through the use of sashes bearing the words ‘Team Bride’. These prove that they have pledged allegiance to her for the duration of the ceremony and will swarm interlopers.

“The bride herself will wear a veil or superior sash to demonstrate her leadership. It is highly unusual for any of the hens to switch allegiance to rival brides at this point, but ever motivated by primal needs they may if pissed and a better party is going home.

“Sometimes the bride will also adorn herself with L-plates. This semiology serves to ward off any other potential mates and demonstrates that she will shortly lose her virtue to one particular male, ignoring the fact she slagged about for some years.

“Fertility symbols are crucial. Repeated reference to the phallus symbolise the young woman’s confidence in grappling with the challenges of marriage. An inflatable penis to ride upon, phallic-shaped straws, and cock deely-boppers all prove she has come of age.

“The ritual ends in the untamed jungle of nightclub ThrustZ where the women parade before males demonstrate their attractiveness to potential step-fathers of their young through the use of traditional mating calls, such as ‘Snog the Bride’.”