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Prince Harry

Even republicans approve, surely?

Microwaving tea

Recommended by scientists, apparently. Disgusting

No televised election debates

Disappointing; we were rather looking forward to May vs The Sturge


Olivia Coleman = nailed-on Future National Treasure

Spring Bank holidays

Too close together! Very bad!


“I queued for THREE BLOODY HOURS at B&Q for a new recycling bin! The entire town’s in CHAOS”


To be listened to whole on a long journey for maximum effect

Using a proper paper map

Strangely satisfying

The “Flash” Flash ad

It’s back! Possibly the best ever singing dog in an advert ever

Crap tacos

Reheated, with too much chilli: middle-class kebabs, basically

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    How to be middle-class: singing “happy birthday” in a mortified hush  

    I never normally have a birthday meal out in a restaurant, but this year I did, and it was a bit of a learning experience. Not only was I a bit embarrassed about making a mess with wrapping paper, and displaying all my cards on the table as though it was my own dining room, but there also came the awkward “happy birthday” song moment, which I’ve never actually been part of, only ever overheard. And what happened was hilarious.

    Some of my family are musicians. Loud, confident, performing musicians. “Happy birthday” songs at home come complete with harmonies and descants and someone spoofily conducting. But the idea of making this sort of exhibition of ourselves in public was too much. So they all adopted a hushed tone, singing the song, and the descant, under their breath, all leaning in towards me. It was so lovely, funny, and quite revealing.

    A little later, a “happy birthday” song happened loudly and proudly at a neighbouring table among a family quite different from mine, but I couldn’t help preferring my almost whispered song.

    Flickr: beccapie

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