My love language is wanting a f**king mortgage, woman admits

A WOMAN’S preferred attachment style is to help her pay off hundreds of thousands of pounds over 25 years, she has revealed.

Hannah Tomlinson, 30, is uninterested in the popular concept of ‘love languages’ such as spending quality time or showing love through actions, and would instead prefer that men offered to go halves with her on a property they could legally call their own.

She said: “I can’t live in words of affirmation or physical touch. If a man wants to win me over, he’d be better off seducing me with a five-year fixed rate at 4.02 per cent.

“Sadly, the men on the apps are all commitment phobes. When they ask me what I’m looking for and I tell them a three-bedroom semi and 25 grand, they look flustered and say they’re not ready. Christ help them if I ever want kids.

“If I ever match with potential suitors, the only reason I ever go back to theirs is to check for Japanese knotweed and off-street parking. I’m no slag though, I don’t go putting out my credit score on the first date.”

Date Martin Bishop said: “I thought things were going well with Hannah. We had a lovely meal, the conversation was flowing, then she ghosted me after I said I didn’t understand stamp duty thresholds.”

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Denial, bargaining, saying sod it and being late for work: The six stages of adjusting to the clocks going back

AN extra hour in bed is small consolation for the dreariness of standard time. These are the steps you will work through as you adjust to omnipresent darkness.

Denial

Surely it can’t be barely 4pm and already looking this bleak? There must be an error with your highly technologically advanced phone and every other infallible digital device. Perhaps it’s just very cloudy today, or maybe an immersive theatre experience is putting on a play about the Great Smog. Winter can’t have come yet; normal, slightly less shit weather will resume soon.

Hating farmers

Your brain has ruled out migrants and benefits scroungers, but surely someone must be to blame for this antiquated time-f**kery? Then you remember that clocks only change because farmers needed to milk their cows at stupid o’clock during the war. This gives you the perfect excuse to eat mechanically recovered meat that’s never been near a farmer and shun vegetables for Doritos. That’ll show those bastards.

Bargaining

The sun may be a merciless ball of blinding plasma at the heart of the solar system, but even it must want something. Perhaps if you promise to start worshipping it again and apologise for forsaking it in favour of God then it will bless you with lighter evenings. Just make sure to do this in private because you will look like a twat.

Half-arsed political engagement

Seeing as time is a societal construct, it’s the government’s responsibility to sort out these dank, depressing evenings. Typically there’s nothing in Labour’s manifesto about the clocks going back, so you’ll think about firing off an email to your local MP before realising it’s too much effort. Your plan, as with everything, is to vote Reform and blindly hope those inexperienced tossers will fix things somehow.

Defy society’s expectations

You’re no NPC sheep. After getting radicalised by anti-standard time content, you’ll start flouting the so-called rules of the autumn equinox. If gender can be fluid, why can’t your grasp of the numbers on a clock be similarly mutable? It’s not 8am in your reality until it’s light out, which means you’re allowed to sleep in and be late for work. If anyone disagrees, they’re cancelled.

Acceptance 

You’re not French. They would have instantly taken to the streets over meddling with time. As a Brit though your apathy will kick in and you’ll soon embrace seasonal depression and being Vitamin D deficient. In a few days you’ll be resigned to the misery, leaving you primed to be pissed off when you lose an hour in summer.