How to fit in on a Boxing Day hunt

WHILE you slump on the sofa expelling the richest flatulence of the year, the aristocracy is out for a lovely traditional hunt. This is what you’d need to join in the murdery fun: 

To begin with, you’ll need a healthy contempt for your fellow man, otherwise you’ll find riding horses across their gardens in pursuit of a fox somewhat rude. Develop this by going to Sports Direct and observing their customers.

Then you’ll need to become comfortable with senseless cruelty in the name of entertainment. Reality television can help with this, especially if you have access to the late-00s series of Big Brother when ‘duty of care’ was an alien concept.

A familiarity with killing is also key, but you can’t just go out and take lives willy-nilly if you’re not already posh. Instead, pop into Pets at Home and conversationally tell the guinea pigs how you’d love to murder them. It’s fine, they’re natural born test subjects.

Next you need to get the local authority figures on your side. Invite the local police chiefs, magistrates and judges round for dinner. Feed them lavishly, get them drunk, and film them driving themselves home. After that they’ll happily look the other way as you break the law.

On the day of the hunt, it wouldn’t do to turn up in camouflage gear. A fox, after all, is not the Predator. Dress in your brightest red jacket and tight trousers that reveal how small your penis really is, and how engorged it becomes at slaughter.

Then grab your horse and off you go with your new chums. If you don’t have a horse, you are very much not invited to this party.

Above all, remember it’s a sport and you’re there to have fun. Unlike the foxes. But it’s okay, because foxes can’t feel pain and actually enjoy a bracing chase before they die.

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Man spends Boxing Day scrolling Tinder from childhood bedroom

A MAN home for Christmas has spent Boxing Day swiping his way through hometown Tinder while lying on the Steven Gerrard duvet he got when he was ten. 

Tom Logan, aged 28, woke up mildly hungover and decided to soothe his head by checking out all the single women within a 15-mile radius of Kidsgrove, like he never could as a teenager.

He said: “Boxing Day is always that weird, bloated post-Christmas feeling. So I thought I’d see if there were any girls interested in a quick hometown hook-up before I return to fishing in the richer waters of Leeds.

“This woman claims to be a curvy MILF living just up the road, but that seems unlikely as all there is up here is the big Aldi. Do they have hot MILFs in Aldi? I guess round here maybe.

“But my mum’s always popping in to ask if I want a mince pie so I can’t really enjoy it when I get sent a tit shot, and it feels weird flirting when I’m a foot away from a half-completed Panini 2010 World Cup sticker album and a full set of Percy Jackson books.

“Eating turkey sandwiches and making awkward conversation with my Nana feels weird when I’ve just asked a girl what she’d do if she was in the room with me right now. When deep down I know the answer is ‘eat turkey sandwiches and talk to my Nana’.”

Lucy Parry of Leeds said: “I know I shouldn’t be on Tinder flirting with some sad Kidsgrove bastard. But I’m bored.”