Staff at cool bar hate you and themselves equally

THE nonchalant, arrogant staff at a hipster bar hate themselves just as much as they hate you, they have admitted.

Employees at ‘Totes Jelly!’ in London’s Old Street confessed they treat their clientele like their presence is a massive inconvenience to hide the shame they are feeling inside.

Cocktail curator Nathan Muir said:  “Anyone who wants to drink a ‘Fellini Martini’ from a jam-jar in a poorly lit former shoe shop deserves to be treated like dirt. That’s a given.

“But who’s the real asshole, the social media manager paying £14 for a drink that’s four quid at Wetherspoons, or the guy earning £6.70 an hour serving it?

“No, I won’t turn down the xylophone cover version of Hotline Bling. No, I don’t care if your girlfriend ripped her vintage Bronski Beat t-shirt on the rusty primary school chair.

“You knew you were trapped in an irritating nightmare when you walked through the reclaimed submarine hatch. And so did I.”

Logan added: “I hate this beard. And this retro sailor-themed tattoo. I wish I was an accountant.”

“You knew you were trapped in an irritating nightmare when you walked through the reclaimed submarine hatch. And so did I.”

Logan added: “I hate this beard. And this retro sailor-themed tattoo. I wish I was an accountant.”

Mother determined to get you involved in feud

YOUR mother is determined that you will not remain neutral in the row she is having with your sister, she has confirmed. 

The feud, which began over a casserole dish, has so far drawn in your dad, your brother and all the women from yoga and appears set to intensify.

Your mum, calling last night while you were attempting to watch TV, said: “You know what she said about you? Last Christmas? Well I kept it to myself at the time but I don’t see why I should now.

“I’ve already told her how annoyed you were at her for bringing that boyfriend of hers to your party, you remember, the one you think stole your phone?

“And it was her who scraped your car when you were 19. She lied about it, and you had to pay the bill. Hundreds, wasn’t it? I bet you’re really angry now. Good. You’re right to be.”

Immediately following the call you received a text from your sister reading: “I know the mad bitch was on the phone to you. Ignore her. I never touched the fucking casserole dish.

“And Darrell did NOT steal your phone. I can’t believe you even thought that. Wanker.”