The bluff Northerner's guide to ignoring six-foot floods

HARDY Northern folk aren’t scared of a few feet of cold water and collapsing bridges. Here Northerner Roy Hobbs explains how to carry on as normal.

Count yourself lucky 

Northerners – particularly grans – are extremely good at making irrelevant comparisons to worse situations. So even though your home is a waterlogged wreck, reflect on the fact that at least you’re not in a wheelchair, or prison, or both. 

Remember you don’t feel the cold

If you’re up to your chest in cold water, don’t fret because Northerners are genetically impervious to low temperatures. If you’re starting to go numb from hypothermia, you are not a true Northerner, so bugger off somewhere posh, Southern and la-di-da, like Wolverhampton.

Under no circumstances change your daily routine

Show some Northern pride and make no concessions to the floods. Take your dog for a walk to the newsagent’s as usual, even it means wading through four feet of water towing the terrified hound behind you in a washing-up bowl. 

Have a Northern flood survival kit ready

This should contain: Eccles cakes; 120,000 tea bags (not Earl Grey); a shit, parochial local newspaper for reading matter; some nice lamb chops for tea; and a car battery to power the telly so you won’t miss Corrie, even if you’re stuck on the roof of your house.

Rely on the famous Northern sense of community

In an emergency, Northerners will immediately visit their neighbours with hot meals, flasks of tea and bottles of ale, although this may just be an excuse to sneer at the cleanliness of their net curtains.

Stop being so bloody soft 

So you’re trapped in rising flood waters with a rapidly decreasing chance of survival? Get the kettle on, you big daft apeth.

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Lads' holiday booked on afternoon flight forced to sink pints at 2pm like twats

A GROUP of lads are flying to Ibiza so late that they are lining up at the bar and sinking pints at a perfectly acceptable hour to do so. 

The men, aged between 19 and 26, are bitterly ashamed to be seen drinking so heavily in the airport when there is nothing unusual about it and claim their 4.40pm flight has ruined their holiday.

Apprentice plumber Nathan Muir said: “I’ve got three lagers lined up, the afternoon sun’s slanting through the glass and nobody’s paying me the slightest bit of attention. Bollocks to this.

“When we say the airport beers are the best bit of the holiday, we’re not f**king around. Six beers at 7am while other passengers pretend not to hear our ‘lads on tour’ chant? Bliss mate.

“It’s thrilling to drink in the morning. It’s statement drinking. Instead we’re sat like a bunch of old blokes in a Wetherspoons on a Tuesday afternoon. It’s depressing.

“When’s the flight back? After-bloody-noon? Right lads, we’re going to have to arrive at the airport eight hours early. This is a matter of pride.”