Beautiful woman has no incentive to be less annoying

A BEAUTIFUL woman is to continue being annoying because everyone will still be nice to her.

PR consultant Nikki Hollis talks incessantly about herself, speaking very quickly so that nobody else can participate in the conversation.

She said: “MycareerisgoinggreatbutIdon’tknowifIwanttobeinPRforever.

“MaybeIshouldtakeayearout, dotheyogathingthengetonthepropertyladder. Hm?”

However men confirmed that they would continue to treat her with a weird sort of lustful respect, while her female friends claim she is not as bad as she seems, because they admire her good genes.

Colleague Tom Booker said: “She’s an attractive woman and she knows it. The problem is that I know it too, which I why I’m constantly buying her creepy little gifts of sweets.

“She is really annoying on every level, especially when she does the thing of being deliberately vague because she thinks it’s cute, but sometimes you have to look past massive character flaws and see the surface beauty.”

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Farage: 'In less than 48 hours, I will cease to exist'

AS WE contemplate the historic EU referendum, in which Britain will finally decide to throw off the yoke of tyranny, it’s hard to imagine that I won’t be here to see it. 

But sadly, in less than two days, the reason I was summoned to your dimension will be gone and the creature you know as Nigel Farage will no longer exist.

I came when England called, like Sir Lancelot and Robin Hood. I came in your hour of need to deliver you a seemingly endless referendum and this capering spirit has been as good as his word.

You knew I wasn’t real all along. How could I be? But a being of folklore, such as I, could be everywhere at once; on Question Time, guffawing in the golf club, popping into a pub in Peterborough for a pint and stepping out into the Sunderland sunlight for a smoke.

Never elected to public office, never within an inch of power, I nonetheless bamboozled your political establishment into this marvellous gift of a complicated expensive thing, but I shall not see its result.

My purpose done and my revels now ended, for every vote counted tomorrow I fade a little more until I am melted into thin air leaving only a spectral blazer and a pair of gold bulldog cufflinks behind.

But mourn not this jester, for I do not die. I merely sleep until this sceptr’d isle has need of me again.

Are you going to the bar?