New mum jealous of her partner's commute

THE mother of a two-month-old baby has admitted she is jealous of her partner’s two-and-a-half hour daily commute.

Jo Kramer, aged 32, confessed that she resents every moment of partner Tom Booker’s lengthy commute in the dark which takes up almost half a day of his life every week.

She said: “He swans out of here at 7.30am with nothing more taxing awaiting him than a 20-minute stroll in the rain then a leisurely wait on a cold station platform.

“The freedom! Once he’s on the train he can sit down, read a book, look out of the window, or go and buy himself a coffee without anyone screaming in his ears, the lucky bastard.

“And then he gets to wander through a city, unencumbered, calling in at whatever shop he likes without having to drag a bloody pram up and down the steps.

“At the end of the day he gets to do the whole thing again. And he has the nerve to complain about the cost of his season ticket. I’d pay ten times the price.”

Booker said: “My train was delayed for 90 minutes because of a signalling failure last week. I don’t know if I’ve ever been happier.”

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What does the bizarre crap in your car boot say about you?

YOUR car boot is the store cupboard that isn’t in the house and nobody looks at, so it’s where the real freaky sh*t piles up. Here’s what yours says about you:

Gym bag, box of charity shop stuff, multipack of toilet rolls

You’re terminally lazy and use your boot as a storage area for your good intentions. The gym clothes have been festering since your last visit in May, the charity shop books will never make it to Oxfam, and you bring toilet rolls in one at a time as and when.

Stray lemon, tin of tomatoes, bottle of ketchup

It’s a mystery to you why items keep going missing from your badly-packed shopping, especially round items. Another mystery is what’s rattling in your boot when you turn sharp corners. Because you’re stupid, these mysteries will never be solved.

Broken laptop, hamster cage, oversized Donald Duck toy

You’re unhinged. If this is the kind of sh*t you keep in your car boot, what the hell kind of mess is there inside your head? The only thing stopping you being a serial killer is there’s no room in your boot for a corpse.

Curtain pole, old mattress, six bags of rubble

You’re a keen fly-tipper looking for the perfect spot to enjoy your fun hobby.

Sony six-CD autochanger loaded with Best Ofs and Top Gear compilations

You bought your company car off your business when you became self-employed in 2005 and have seen no reason to update it. Seven hours of music is enough music for anyone for the rest of their life.

Wheel jack, jumpleads, reflective emergency triangle, hi-viz jacket, torch, first aid kit

You are in fact a serial killer.

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