Let's move to a commuter town marginally better than Slough! This week: High Wycombe

Want to work in London but can’t afford the financial or psychological damage of living there? High Wycombe makes a perfectly shite alternative.

This week in Mash history: Sir Walter Raleigh discovers these tubers that fry up a treat, 1588

BRITAIN would be nothing without the potato. Vegan, gluten-free and delicious, spuds are the crispy-yet-fluffy-on-the-inside bricks modern civilisation is built on.

Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Everybody’s seen that picture of Albert Einstein sticking his tongue out. But beneath the clownish exterior was a very intelligent man.

The Archbishop of Canterbury on... the far-right likes of Susan twatting Hall

WAKING with a morning head and aware of a distinctively green, radioactive glow emanating from my skull, I reflect on last Sunday’s events at morning service.

Breed, young people, breed. The triple lock must be preserved

FORGET your gender nonsense, Gen Z. Worry not about climate change. The time has come for you to put your anxieties aside and fuck.

Please God let me stop touring, I beg you, with Mick Jagger

NEW album Hackney Diamonds means more of the few precious years The Rolling Stones have left will be spent on the road playing the same songs to the same fans.

Let's move to the city Thatcher couldn't kill! This week: Liverpool

Up in the north-west of England is the Tories’ bête noire, the working-class left-wing city they keep trying to kill but that will not die.

Period sex: do you absolutely have to? Are you sure? by the Mash sex columnist

SCARED of a little bit of blood? Not a modern, empowered, body-positive woman like you. You’re not cowed by the fact you’re feeling icky in more ways than one.

Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Would it kill them to add some of those 60s Batman onomatopoeia animations to hardcore pornography once in a while?

The Archbishop of Canterbury on... King Charles III pissing his reign away

WAKING with a faint buzzing about the temples, perhaps as a result of my now-customary Brasso nightcap, I recall the tumultuous events of the past few days.