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A confused Millennial tries to… pay with cash

by Josh Gardner, who will never own a home but does own The Chronic on green translucent 180gm vinyl

CASH is dated, which means it’s problematic. Hitler, Stalin and JK Rowling all paid for things with physical money, so it’s a dangerous road to go down. 

Buying my Shein hauls with my iPhone is much more ethical and doesn’t feel like I’m spending money at all. That’s girl maths, which I use because boy maths is sexist.

Plus money has a picture of the King’s face on it, or it should have by now, she’s been dead for three years. I’d rather not passively endorse colonialism when I buy my Boots meal deals. Contactless lets me maintain a clean conscience.

Not everyone’s caught up, though. I tried to give some money to a fundraiser on the highstreet and he looked baffled as I pressed my card to his donation box.

‘Sorry mate, I only take cash,’ he mansplained, before directing me to an ATM. After quickly Googling ‘ATM’, I set off for a new experience.

‘So that’s what these things are,’ I murmur, on discovering it. Pausing only to shoot a selfie, I enter my PIN and get my card and the plastic notes that are so handy to snort a line though.

Armed with half my life savings of 40 quid, I set off back to the fundraiser. But then I realised I only wanted to donate a quid, which means ‘breaking’ my note as people used to say in the 20th century.

I swung into the nearest Greggs for a vegan sausage roll. The cashier rang up my order, then the bizarre process of a physical transaction took place. I awkwardly presented the note in my shaking, clammy hand, hoping I wasn’t doing this wrong.

‘Got anything smaller mate?’ he asked, triggeringly, before snatching it and huffily counting out metal discs. They weighed loads and rattled in my pocket. Is this really how everyone used to pay for things? No wonder there were two world wars.

Finally, with my desired ‘change’ I made my way back to where it all began, dropped my money into the charity box and it clinked as it hit the bottom. And that was it. No congratulatory text, no email asking for feedback, nothing.

It was really underwhelming. If that’s what paying with cash is like, no wonder it went extinct.

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Five ways to get yourself into a nice comfortable sexual rut, with the Mash sex columnist

CALL it a rut, call it a comfort zone, call it three minutes each of oral followed by five minutes of no-eye-contact sex, but it’s the bedrock of the majority of marriages. 

Cutting out the worrying prospect of trying something new, a good rut lets you settle in as snug as a memory foam mattress. And you can get there by dedicating just a little growing-apart-time each day. Here’s how to neglect that lovin’ feelin’:

Let yourself go

The simplest way to initiate a decade of straight missionary with the lights off is to render yourself unattractive. Take it seriously, like Charlize Theron uglying up for an Oscar. Whether you’re picking your feet all evening, snacking on a family bag of onion rings before bed or reminding your husband how far you’ve slid by squeezing your settled-relationship body into your old slinky-singleton clothes, give him every excuse.

Up your stress levels

High levels of stress are an excellent way to make yourself too distracted to get your head in the right place to come. Or, for the guys, to bother try to make her come. Simply engineer a way to make life a massive ballache: organise a big party, move house, start an affair: whatever it takes to render yourself too anxious to access your own fantasies.

Never speak

If communication is the key to nurturing an exciting sexual relationship, foregoing all communication is an excellent way to shut one down. Eat exclusively in front of I’m a Celebrity, invest in noise-cancelling headphones and wear them constantly. Before you know it you’ll be rutting in a rut.

Be knackered

The equivalent of stress but for the working classes, exhaustion is an easy way to guarantee none of that new position shit. Train for a marathon, become a 7am gym bunny, start working nights at a fish-gutting plant: do whatever it takes to cut your libido to a nice manageable 0.01. You’ll still have sex, but it’ll be perfunctory.

Party time

If consumed irresponsibly enough, alcohol blunts the joy from every activity. If you’re too pissed to do anything but the usual, you’re ready to go at your partner with an instinctive lack of imagination. You’ll be finished before she knows it and fast asleep while she gets herself off; perfect for Christmas. Happy Season’s Sexual Rut, everyone!

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