Dad blissfully unaware that ‘Netflix and chill’ means shagging

A MAN who asked his son’s girlfriend if she was going to stay for ‘Netflix and chill’ with the family has made everyone present want to curl up and die.

Martin Bishop, 54, used the popular phrase in an attempt to ingratiate himself with the younger generation, but instead caused horrendous embarrassment.

Bishop’s son Tom said: “It’s a shame because he’s usually alright. He’s not one of those dads who wears Crocs outdoors or gets drunk and cries over Father and Son by Cat Stevens.

“The phrase ‘Netflix and chill’ has been around for so long now that it has even infiltrated the minds of middle-aged IT consultants who mumble ‘It’s not the same without Clarkson’ every time Top Gear comes on.

“Unfortunately dad thinks the phrase literally means to relax whilst watching television. I explained this to my girlfriend, so I’m pretty sure she doesn’t think we engage in group sex sessions as a family.

“She has been making comments about ‘needing a bit more space’, but I’m sure that’s totally unrelated.”

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7 deeply irrational ways to celebrate the royal birth

A POSH woman you don’t know has had a baby. Amazing. But are you unsure how to celebrate because it would be insane? Here are some suggestions:

Make something rubbish and send it to the baby. Super-rich Kate and Wills will be delighted to receive a knitted nappy or odd-looking cake, especially in an era of ruthless global terrorism.

Dress from head-to-toe in union jack clothing and hang around the hospital with union jack shopping trolleys and carrier bags like escapees from The Queen Mother Memorial Asylum. Take some dolls to look extra mad.

Spend at least £150 on total crap that is nothing to do with royal babies, eg. a nylon elephant in an England shirt containing an AM radio made in Hangzhou.

Channel your joy about the baby into angry nationalism. Contemptuously say other countries “have nothing like our royal family”, although they clearly do if you read the news, which you don’t.

Get very emotional. Cry and drivel on about how superlatively beautiful the normal-looking baby is. Do this while your own kids are left at home with a bag of Wotsits for dinner, being supervised only by your muscular dog.

Organise a street party. Spend a miserable afternoon eating cheap sausage rolls with your weird neighbours, who now want you to organise a much bigger event for Harry and Meghan’s wedding.

Stand up and salute the TV during bulletins about the baby. It seems weird to other people but not you because you’re off your nut.