Let's move somewhere the locals make no secret of wanting you dead! This week: Penzance

If you’re from Cornwall, take your pick from the properties which are all out of your price range thanks to Londoners buying second homes and fucking up the housing market.

Mash Blind Date: 'It's only a problem if we have children' says a man on a date with his cousin

WILL family-oriented Tom hit it off with homebody Joanna, who he has so much in common with that they even share grandparents?

Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

A horse walks into a nightclub. A hot sexy filly with false eyelashes in revealing clothing, otherwise the bouncers wouldn’t have let it in.

The Archbishop of Canterbury on... Rebekah bleeding Vardy

I tell you, Rebekah, keep this up! String it out, for weeks, months, and years until your scraggy twat of a husband is playing f**king non-league football till he’s 57 to pay the fucking bills!

'Bollocks to Ukraine if they're not getting me any votes,' he said. I had to agree

THEY love him in Ukraine. They say ‘thank you Boris’ and ‘God save the Queen’ when they blow up tanks. But can they vote for him? Can they fuck.

A lone voice dared challenge corrupt football culture. Her name? Rebekah Vardy

ONCE in a generation comes a hero. Someone prepared to stand up and say, no matter what the personal consequences, ‘no more.’

Let's move to a city heaving with Hoorays and the homeless! This week: Oxford

Not many cities can rival Oxford’s stunning architecture and fascinating history, not to mention parking prices hitting a world-beating £6 an hour.

Mash Blind Date: your two gay mates who would totally love each other so should go out

STRAIGHT woman Lottie has two gay friends, who by virtue of sharing a sexuality and her friendship are obviously destined to be a couple. Aren’t they?

Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Remember Paul the psychic octopus? He was executed after predicting the time of Terry Wogan’s death to the minute.

The Archbishop of Canterbury on... the cocking council elections

WAKING fully robed in my bathtub, my cassock covered in faeces, urine and blood, I realise that yesterday’s sherry reception for the Little Sisters of the Poor got a little out of hand.