‘Dry January’ date drives both parties back to hard liquor

A MAN and woman who attempted a first date while sober now drink to forget how unbearably awkward it was, they have confirmed.

Donna Sheridan and Nathan Muir, neither of whom had previously dated without alcohol, agreed that the lengthy silences and painful conversation put them off dating but rekindled their relationships with drunkenness.

Sheridan said: “We met in a pub so we could bond over feeling superior to all the feckless, undisciplined tossers who can’t manage a month without a drink. That was my first mistake.

“While all the boozers tossed back their pints and ordered another, Nathan and I were making the type of nervous, stilted chat usually reserved for hospital waiting rooms.

“We tried desperately to find some common ground, but beyond the fact that we both work in offices and have all of our limbs, there didn’t seem to be any.

“After two hours of elderflower cordial, we cracked and ordered two Jägerbombs and a bottle of Pinot Grigio, then we confused our surging relief and drunkeness for lust and now we’re an item.

“It’s the time-honoured tradition of meeting ‘the one’.”

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Trump in battle with hobo Trump

PRESIDENT Trump is locked in a vicious battle with Steve Bannon, his former chief strategist and shambolic, rail-riding alter-ego. 

Bannon, who left the White House with his bindle over his shoulder and his toes poking out of his shoes in August last year after hearing the call of the cicadas and the open road, has blasted the president in a new book.

Wearing three shirts to indicated that he has united the three Hobo Nations of the US, Bannon said: “He ain’t no better than me, just for he ain’t use a rock as a pillow.

“I delivered that chicken-chasing asshole the Big Rock Candy Mountain and I don’t see the gratitude. I see nothin’ more than a fool who’d deny a man who’d hiked a hundred mile a hand-up to the boxcar.

“No hobo’d invite the Russians to sit around the jungle fire. No hobo’d hobnob with the railyard bulls. He ain’t got the pride of a hobo.

“Still, after two years we switch and I become president. That was the deal. I got him to write his ‘X’ in blood.”