HUMOUR

MEN on a boys-only getaway are concocting ridiculous reasons for calling the women they share their lives with so as not to lose face. 

Tired, emotional but afraid of derision, the crew of lads in Dublin are attempting to fulfil promises to girlfriends and wives they will call home while being to scared to openly do so in front of the others.

Scott, not his real name, aged 31, said: “It’s not easy. We never leave each other’s company except to go for a piss, and you can’t call from in there any more than talk to a stranger.

“Tim, not his real name, said ‘I’d better take this,’ when his pregnant girlfriend called to a rising, mocking chorus of ‘Aaah-under the thumb,’ so we’ve established it’s not allowed and any contact must be surreptitious and clandestine.

“Howard texted his wife to call saying there was no hot water, which might have worked if Ben wasn’t a heating engineer and his flimsy excuse hadn’t fallen apart under technical scrutiny. He had to do three tequila shots and shortly after pissed himself.

“Si was pretending to film a selfie when it was actually a FaceTime with Katie. The lads jumped him, nicked his phone and began simulating homoerotic acts. One of them was Katie’s brother. I don’t know who feels the most shame, but it’s how it has to be.”

Scotty later requested a private dance in a lapdancing club, which he spent on the phone to his girlfriend crying and saying he wanted to go home.

AN obviously gay man appears to be the only person in his circle of friends, acquaintances and family to have no inkling of his sexuality. 

Shane, not his real name, aged 26, believes he is just yet to meet a girl who has ‘the focus of Cher, the bravery of Madonna and the sheer sequinned fabulousness of Christina Aguilera’.

He continued: “There just never seem to be any single women when I’m pursuing my interests, whether attending the ballet or doing Indonesian cookery courses. I’m putting myself out there!

“Occasionally I get a lady posting an admiring comment on my TikToks where I lipsync to Britney Spears tracks, but I wouldn’t want to date a fan.

“I don’t get lonely – there’s always Drag Race on telly – but I do get despondent sometimes, coming home from yet another date with a girl who for whatever reason just doesn’t turn me on and drowning my sorrows in bathtime Bellinis.

“Yes, I wish I had a life partner to take to the musical of The Devil Wears Prada who could sympathise with my own struggles to enter the fashion industry. But I’m prepared to wait.”

Friend Joanna Kramer said: “We are thinking of locking him briefly in a closet to see if he gets it.”

LEADING a rich and sordid sex life and want to share the raunchy details with someone? Here’s who to avoid opening up to.

Your closest friends

As men have known for centuries, the closest friendships are maintained by exchanging as little information as possible. Sharing deeply personal details like your surname or your favourite colour can jeopardise your relationship. Regaling them with your bedroom antics will only provide your friends with ammunition for future banter. You’re safer telling them your bank account details.

Anyone in your family

You don’t want to hear about how your parents solemnly conducted missionary reproduction once, or twice if you have a sibling, and they don’t want to know that you’re a member of the mile-high club. Telling siblings, cousins and uncles about your erotic misadventures will likely induce vomiting, however your sex-starved grandad might be too keen to hear about it, so remain tight-lipped for your own sake.

Your colleagues

Sure, your work bestie might feel like a safe person to open up to, but don’t fall for their bullshit. Once they’ve learnt that you went to a key party they’ll be sure to mention it to your boss when the opportunity for a promotion comes around. That would be unprofessional, but so is engaging in anything but robot-like communication with your co-workers. ‘Iain’s off with diarrhoea,’ is as raunchy as it should get.

Strangers in the street

Stopping a stranger in the street to tell them you dabbled in a spot of rimming last night is a bad idea, even in these progressive times. Even people at Pride festivals gloss over the sexual aspect of their lives by walking down the street en masse and waving little rainbow flags. You could learn a lot from their retiring modesty.

Catholic priests

Catholic priests are old hands when it comes to hearing people’s confessions and keeping them to themselves, so you’re safe in that regard. They’re incredibly judgemental though, so even as you test the water by saying you once fingered your girlfriend out of wedlock, you’ll get an earful about ‘sin’ and have to spend the next 12 hours fiddling with your rosary. 

Your partner

Yes, your partner remembers when you went down on them and that time they handcuffed you to the bed, because they were there and they have a functioning memory. Don’t drain all the fun out of sex by talking about it afterwards – keep the home fires burning by initiating more sex. Also, if you get them confused with an ex and recount a particularly mindblowing shag with them, you are totally f**ked.

A GROUP of noisy neighbours turned off their music after a man seriously considered going over there, it has been revealed. 

Martin, not his real name, went on an epic rant about how inconsiderate it is to have a rowdy party in a residential area on a weeknight when some people have to be up at six. The rant was delivered to his wife, Sarah, in the safety of his own home. 

He said: “Honestly I have half a mind to go over there and give them a real talking to. But then again, it is quite cold out there.

“Also I think one of them is quite big and may have been in prison recently.” 

Fortunately for Martin, the neighbours miraculously felt his ire without him having to physically act, deciding to turn off their music and go out only two hours after he started moaning about it.

He said: “I must have really given them a good scare by thinking about knocking on their door and delivering a massive bollocking. I didn’t want to have to nearly do it, but now maybe they’ll think twice before messing with me again.”

A WELL-PAID worker has admitted his job essentially consists of him just formatting Word documents, it’s been revealed.

Anthony, not his real name, confessed that despite holding the impressive position of Senior Marketing Manager at a financial technology firm, his job actually consists of little more than using Microsoft’s flagship word-processing software to add margins.

He said: “I’m not saying that what I do involves absolutely no skill, because if my team understood how to use Word properly I would have absolutely nothing to do. But what I’m saying is it’s definitely not a skill worth £52,500 per annum.”

Ant also revealed he feels bad for earning more than a junior doctor: “The only way my job could become a life or death situation would be if someone had a condition where seeing the font Comic Sans induced them to have a stroke.

“But my job is safe as long as nobody else finds out how to print multiple copies of a document.”

THE longtime female friend of an out and proud gay man secretly believes he will one day become straight, she has revealed. 

Helen, not her real name, of Manchester admits that friend Joseph, not his real name, has shown few signs of his latent heterosexuality in their 11-year friendship so far, but that she knows him better than anyone and that it could happen any day.

She continued: “He can’t stay in a relationship. That tells you something.

“Yes, on the surface it’s because he can’t stop cheating on them with twinks, but I think he actually finds the constantly available sex dissatisfying.

“Sexuality is fluid, after all – I kissed a girl once, at sixth form – and he’s 30 now and beginning to realise that lust is less important than companionship.

“Meanwhile we’re having such tremendous fun together that it’s no big deal to me if he takes his time working out what he wants. When we went to New York he shagged a guy from Grindr even though we were sharing a room! It was hilarious!”

He said: “Oh, I’m fully aware what she thinks. And straights, by keeping her off the market I’m doing you one massive favour.”

AN OPPORTUNISTIC wedding planner is earning up to £2,400 per wedding for providing couples with a bespoke day identical to every other one. 

After spending years observing the slick, characterless weddings of all her friends, Susan, not her real name, ditched her job in marketing for a well-paid position as an unnecessary middleman for lowest common denominator events instead.

She said: “I’ve tried offering them a unique individual experience. By and large they were disappointed.

“So when clients say they don’t want candles in jam jars or a large Mr & Mrs sign in gold curly handwriting, I show them photos of every other wedding I’ve done and that changes their minds.

“If they start getting ideas I say ‘we need to be realistic about budgets’ and that shuts them up. What guests want is everything they’ve come to expect, from balloon arch to sweet cart, and if they need an out-there surprise how about a dog as a ring bearer?

“Anything more original than a photo booth takes up valuable space where the post-dance picnic benches go to distract everyone from it being a Bracknell Travelodge function room. I tell them just to play it safe. That’s what I’m paid for.”

Bride Lucy said: “I wanted everything to look really boring so I received all the attention. The planner’s eye for beige made everything go off perfectly.”

CATS have confirmed they are no closer to understanding what the phrase, ‘no, that’s mine’ actually means.

Cat, Saffy said: “As these things are usually said to us in relation to some food we are trying to eat, we think it means, ‘you can eat this if you want to’.

“It also means ‘of course you take it and run into the garden with it’.

“So that’s cool.”

Saffy added: “It definitely doesn’t mean that we’re not allowed the food because that would mean that something didn’t belong to us which is just bat shit crazy.”

Other sentences cats are unsure of include, ‘you know you can’t go out at night’, ‘no, you’ve already been fed,’ and ‘leave the dog’s tail alone’.

Saffy added: “We think the last one means, ‘the dog’s a twat, annoy the shit out of him’.”

MEN cannot express affection towards other men and even choosing between a ‘mate’, a ‘dude’ or even a ‘fella’ is a minefield. Use this ranking to guide you: 

10. Chum

Unless you’re an anthropomorphic duck in a Disney film, do not refer to your male friends as ‘chum’. If used against a stranger, you are starting a fight.

9. Geez

Ideal for cafes serving jellied eels or on the sets of Guy Ritchie films, but travels no further than that. Any attempted use north of Stafford may result in violence.

8. Matey

No spoilers, but ‘mate’ does pretty well on this list. The addition of a single letter, however, does untold damage to its acceptability. Reserved for fictional pirates, parents addressing toddler sons, and a 1970s children’s bubble bath.

7. Boss

The only people entitled to use the term ‘boss’ are kebab shop owners. Being called ‘boss’ is one of this country’s great honours, equivalent to a knighthood. That incredible rush should not be undermined by overuse.

6. Fella

Roughly one in every 50 men uses the word ‘fella’ as a term of endearment. Nobody knows where these men come from or where they got such confidence, but it may be related to their knowing how to fix your boiler.

5. Son

Manages to be both friendly and incredibly condescending at the same time. You have to wait till you’ve reached a certain age, but from then on there’s years of fun to be had. Which is good because you’ll have f**k all else to fill your time by that point.

4. Dude

Should it be this high, given its Californian connotations? Yes, because secretly every man wishes he was wearing a backwards baseball cap, performing gnarly skate tricks, and perpetually stoned. Even a vicar.

3. Bro

The position of ‘bro’ here is a sad indictment of the Americanisation of Britain. Not 30 years ago you’d have been tarred and feathered for using it unironically. Nowadays it’s nothing.

2. Pal

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. In another world, ‘pal’ could have easily topped this list – but sadly it exists during the same period as the undisputed GOAT.

1. Mate

‘Mate’ is truly the great leveller of male terms. Bus driver? Mate. Best friend of 40 years? Mate. Worst enemy? Mate. King Charles III? Mate. For usefulness and versatility it’s unparalleled. If it wasn’t for the word ‘mate’ huge swathes of British men would be unable to talk to one another at all, and be forced to confide in women.

‘TIS better to have loved and lost, and even better to never hear from your ex again. Especially not if they get in touch for these reasons: 

They’ve worked out why they dumped you

The initial break-up was a textbook case of meaningless platitudes: they even said ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ and expected to get away with it. But now, after some rumination, they’re coming back to you with a full analysis of your character flaws including graphs. You are not invited to reciprocate.

They’re ready to give it another go

They dumped you. But apparently the grass was less green, the sea denuded of fish and they’ve had all the space they needed so badly, because they’re back and loftily gifting you a second chance. And having spent the weeks since the split swiping through duds on dating apps, you’re tempted. To get dumped again.

They’re ready for closure

Breaking your heart made them feel bad about themselves, which is apparently your problem, so they’re sniffing around for forgiveness and an ego boost. The conversation will focus on how much happier they are, how toxic you were, how bad you should feel about that and for how long. Their closure will never require one last shag.

They’ve got an STI

There’s no way to coyly drop this into conversation but your ex is too awkward to be upfront about it. So you’ll sit through a healthy, adult dinner together where you’ll start to believe you really could still be friends, then they’ll say ‘So, does it burn when you piss?’

They’ve met someone else and the sex is fantastic

Can be disguised as a desire for friendship, returning some of your stuff, or not wanting to leave on bad terms but really it’s a desire to inform. Like Kano’s finishing move in Mortal Kombat, where he tears out his opponent’s still beating heart and holds it high in his hand.

They’re pregnant

Ah. Game over. Far from never having to see your ex ever again, you’re now locked into a life of co-parenting because you were too lazy to pull out. Wave goodbye to your bachelor lifestyle of watching films all day and say hello to the parental duties of watching children’s films all day.

PICKED up a nickname? Proud of it, even though it’s a glaring sign your life has taken a wrong turn somewhere? Any of these is a sign you need help: 

‘Spreadsheet Steve’

You didn’t mind it at first. Everybody likes to have their skills recognised. But you soon came to resent the mockery of colleagues who can’t manage a simple vlookup and don’t want to learn. Unable to bond with anything which isn’t made up of rows and columns, you’ll die alone, leaving a superbly organised will on an Excel worksheet.

‘Mr Loverman’

A bit of fun when you were 16 and had two girls on the go. Now you’re 45 and shouts of ‘Shabba’ in the pub are an unwelcome reminder of your inability to form meaningful relationships. How can you explain to your mother sex with strangers is the only thing that makes you feel alive? You’ll die alone and none of your shags will attend your funeral.

‘Road Warrior’

It’s meant respectfully, from friends impressed you’re still running marathons at 50. They don’t realise your obsession is ruining your family’s lives because you’re never physically or emotionally present, always training, always pounding pavement. You’ll die alone but thanks to your obsession with lean protein and antioxidants, it’ll be at a ripe old age.

‘Smokey Joe’

Back in the indie sleaze 00s, smoking actual cigarettes wasn’t unusual enough to earn you a specific moniker. Today your elderflower cordial-sipping friends stare at you with a mixture of bemusement and pity as you step out for a fag. You’ll die smelly and alone, quite possibly within the next 15 years.

‘Barstool’

It would be nice if this referred to your sociable, chatty nature and excellent listening skills rather than the fact you spend every waking hour in the local boozer. It doesn’t, and you’ll die because you were unable to be alone and instead lived down the pub. Still, your wake will be well attended by other regulars, all surprised to learn your real name.

‘Quantum Ninja’

Everyone loved gaming as a kid. You didn’t stop. A childhood playing Goldeneye led to an adulthood battling Korean teenagers and weekends grinding for epic drops. Nobody’s impressed with your achievements even though getting the skulls on Halo Infinite is hard. Your physical self will die alone. Your gamertag will be trash-talked in the cloud forever.

CARING husband Stephen, not his real name, has noticed his wife is struggling to balance work and childcare and, like a hero, has come up with a gorgeous Mediterranean solution: 

“Au pairs are cheap”

I agree, childcare is far too expensive. Well, as long as she’s got a place to sleep – I could see her yawning as sunlight streams into our spare room – our au pair will be half the cost. Qualifications aren’t an issue. Looking after children will come naturally to her, because she’s from a spicy Catholic country.

“It’s round-the-clock care” 

She’d be living with us, have I mentioned that? So that means 24-7 help with the children. You could go out for a night with the girls and I wouldn’t be left babysitting, because she’d be there with her olive skin, raven hair and a simple gold crucifix pendant dangling.

“We’d have a young presence in the house” 

We’re both older – you’d have noticed the distinguished grey at my temples if you weren’t always busy with the kids – and lost some of our edge. A charismatic young Roman would help us to reconnect to youth culture that isn’tBluey. Maybe I’ll take up running again to keep up with her and buy new, more fashionable clothes.

“The children will be bilingual” 

You always dreamed of our children being raised to speak multiple languages, I think, I wasn’t really listening, and with a sultry au pair they’ll soon be chattering away in Italian, Spanish or really any language associated with passionate women and loose social mores.

“All our friends will be jealous” 

My mates and I have often discussed, down the pub, the upsides and downsides of various childcare options and come to the balanced assessment that there are no disadvantages to hiring a young woman to come live with us. Italian for preference, but Scandinavian, French, Dutch are all acceptable. Once rigorously screened.

“I’ll handle the admin’ 

It would be too much for you to deal with her employment contract, paying her, visiting her room in the evenings for performance assessments, acclimatising her by taking her out to see British culture and so on. So I’ll deal with all that. I expect to be very hands-on. So what do you say? Are you ready to look at this shortlist of candidates I’ve drawn up?

A WOMAN confident her relationship is superior to others is technically correct, but only because every other couple she knows is a car crash. 

Charlotte, not her real name, believes she has ascended to the lofty heights of true and unparalleled love simply because she can manage short, perfunctory conversations without her boyfriend screaming and throwing frozen shrimp.

Charlotte said: “I am so lucky to be with James. We eat dinner and he doesn’t comment on my weight at all, while I remain silent about his f**king slurping. It’s so perfect.

“Lucy’s boyfriend disappeared for two weeks and came back with an STI. Jordan’s girlfriend had a secret OnlyFans and was a decade older than she’d said. Meanwhile, James is out here responding to my texts with up to three emojis!

“I feel bad for my friends that we’re such an inspirational couple. Even when we argue we rarely insult each others’ families or sexual habits, usually we’re speaking again within three days, and he’s never once locked me in the wardrobe. What did I do to deserve such emotional intelligence?

“I try not to be smug when Harrison’s boyfriend steals his car and crashes it, or Dan’s wife discovers his Tinder, Hinge and Bumble accounts, but honestly we’re the best couple I know.”

Partner James, not his real name, said:  “The secret to being a good boyfriend is to just be fractionally better than those of her friends. My ex’s best friend’s husband used to hoover unprompted so she dumped me. Thankfully Charlotte has a much lower bar.”

A WOMAN is under the mistaken impression that her leaving for another job is an important emotional event for those around her. 

Emma, not her real name, aged 34, has spent the morning reminding colleagues that it his her final week as marketing analyst and imagining that they give a f**k.

She said: “I’ve arranged a farewell lunch for those people who can’t come to the evening do, and I’m working on speeches. Don’t want to miss anybody out.

“I’ve become a real fixture here – can’t believe it’s been six years – and while everyone’s putting on a brave face now I expect there will be a few tears on the day, especially for those who’ve found it too wrenching to even answer my emails.”

Eleanor, not her real name, who works at the neighbouring desk to Emma, said: “Six years? Has it been? I would have thought maybe two.

“So that’s why she’s doing all this sighing and forlorn gazing and running her hands along the walls saying ‘Ah, this place. So many memories’. I thought she was just trying to get out of doing the ROI stats.”

Line manager Joe, not her real name, said: “We’ll miss Emma, in the sense that I’m not hiring anyone to replace her so her duties will be shared by the whole team. That will be a wrench.

“As a person? Put it this way, last year a staff member left who’d been here 18 years ever since leaving school. She’d spent her whole working career with us, raised children, the lot. I think her name was… Clara?”

A MAN obviously considers his beard and moustache to be the best thing he has ever done with his life, and may sadly be correct.

Tom, not his real name, personal and professional accomplishments are clearly a distant second to the thick tufts of hair growing from his face which he likes to make a show of stroking in a thoughtful manner.

Logan’s friend Martin Bishop said: “Fair play, it’s nice and bushy. But it’s hard to be that impressed by basic biological processes.

“He’s always talking about how long his beard took to grow out and inviting people to come and stroke it. The background on his phone is even a zoomed-in picture of his chin in all its hirsute glory.

“It’s not really a proper achievement though, like setting up a business or running a marathon. All he did was fail to drag a razor across his face for a few weeks. I don’t expect a medal for not cutting my toenails for ages. D’you want to see them? I thought not.

“Tom’s probably only rocking a beard to hide a terrible jawline anyway, and I bet it itches like crazy. Instead of finding him vain and irritating, I should pity him.”

He said: “Having a massive beard makes me feel extra-strong and masculine. Plus it’s a great distraction from my tiny dick.”

AN entitled young person has self-indulgently turned down a fantastic career opportunity of long-term unpaid work.

Snowflake mathematics graduate Nathan, not his real name, aged 29, rejected the unpaid internship at a marketing company on the dubious grounds that he wanted to avoid becoming homeless or starving to death.

Managing director Donna Sheridan said: “Nathan has missed out on a once-in-a-lifetime chance to work a 48-hour week doing shit no one else can be arsed to do.

“He needs to realise he can’t get a highly paid job with no experience. If he got his foot on the career ladder by working here for, say, 15 years, then we could think about a generous salary of 17k.

“Millennials want it all handed to them on a plate. A plate full of avocados. Hard graft is what gets you on in life, not being a vegan and daydreaming about being on reality TV.

“Those aren’t things I actually learned about Nathan during his interview, I got it from an opinion piece in the Telegraph.” 

He said: “Actually they can stuff their job because I’ve been offered a better one. There still isn’t a salary but you’re allowed to subsist on leftover sandwiches from meetings.”

TWO colleagues had the horrific experience of discovering their banter-based work relationship does not exist outside the office.

Tom invited Martin, not their real names, to the pub following months of shared jokes about difficult clients, the coffee machine and office away day.

Tom said: “As we stepped outside the office I riffed on our favourite topic of coffee capsules but his smile was forced and unnatural.

“I think he’d realised we don’t really know each other and was wondering what the fuck we were going to talk about, or if outside the workplace I’d turn out to be a total weirdo.

“By the time we got to the pub he actually looked quite scared. I should know, because I was wondering if there was some way to just run off.”

Martin said: “We had a really painful conversation about rugby which neither of us are into. The awkward silences were getting so excruciating I thought I was going to have a panic attack.

“There was no need to take our relationship to the pub. It worked perfectly in the confines of Wanstead Insurance Services and now it’s ruined forever.

“I don’t know how I’ll face Tom tomorrow. We’re both straight but it’s like we had really bad sex.”

A COUPLE who drunkenly fumbled their way into a relationship are smugly offering dating advice to their single friends, it has emerged.

Despite having only got together as a result of being six pints deep, self-satisfied couple Jack and Lauren, not their real names, are nevertheless prone to offering tips to their single friends on how to find a romantic partner.

Jack said: “You’ve got to be confident. The sort of confident that leaves you hungover until mid afternoon the following day.

“There’s no point being a nice guy. Girls hate that. What they really want is for a man to sidle up to them, slur some sweet incomprehensible nothings through reeking breath, then go straight in for a snog. Works every time.

“Before you know it you’ll both be rolling around on the floor in a grunting heap as the barman politely asks you to leave. It’s the sort of romantic story you pass on to your grandkids.”

Lauren said: “You’re wasting your time by trying to be a charming, attractive, witty person. Half a dozen pints will do all the legwork for you, plus they’ll make the other person more appealing too.

“Of course you could always stick to thinking up snappy answers to Hinge prompts and swiping your life away, but how’s that going for you? Exactly.”

From Chris in Wellington

I GET it. Women on apps expect a man of my age to have settled down. The ones aged 24 to 29 anyway. I don’t know what ones over 30 would say. They’re not in my Tinder age range

So as soon as they see my ‘distinguished’ but also youthful image dangled tantalising before them, they’re desperate to lock this down and get those genes passed on. 

They ask why I’ve never married, had kids or learnt to put on a fitted sheet, shocked that no lady’s ever been able to tame this stallion. And I say to them: take it as a challenge. Live up to the task.

Because, as I reassure the lucky girls, I’m not completely against the idea of one day getting a mortgage, committing to one person and eating a dinner that isn’t microwaved. But I’m only 44. If I married I’d practically be a child husband and Unicef should be getting involved to save me. I’m only just out of my thirties and still decades off my fifties, mentally. 

Besides, I have had long-term relationships that have gone on for years. Sure, women claim those are really just six one-night stands with one person spread over eight years because I kept sliding back into her DMs when I was horny. So?

Even if I did let myself be hogtied and dragged to the altar now, I’d just spend married life miserable about all the cool stuff I could be doing instead of driving some 40-year-old to the WI. How could I give up the skateboarding, the clubbing, the endless parade of hot 20-somethings eager for a piece of the Loganmeister General? 

As for kids – at 44, I’m barely able to take care of myself, let alone a tiny human who will one day mock me for having had Facebook. So yes, while some men my age are planning family holidays and sheds, I am struggling to keep a houseplant alive in the flatshare living room.

Check back in another 10 years. I might be ready then. But, honestly, no promises.

A BOYFRIEND who ‘cannot read minds’ can not comprehend verbal or written instructions either, his partner has confirmed. 

Joanna, not her real name, is frequently informed by Tom Logan about his lack of telepathic abilities, which he blames for his failure to understand information that is being conveyed to him by conventional means.

She said: “Apparently, because Tom, not his real name, can’t read minds, he had no way of knowing I hate Thai food. I’d argue he could have got it from me saying ‘I hate Thai food’ last month.

“Also, when I’ve openly asked for Peter Andre tickets for my birthday, it doesn’t take Professor fucking X to work out that’s what I want. Instead of leather trousers two sizes too small.

“Then there’s the time I emailed telling him that no, I did not want to go on Martin’s Party In Amsterdam tour because, and I quote directly from the email, ‘Martin’s a twat’. The reply? ‘Great, booked us both on’.

“I’m fully aware he can’t read minds. If he did, he’d know exactly who I’m thinking about when we have sex. Clue: not him.”

Logan said: “How was I supposed to know Joanna kept telling me all this stuff? I’m not a bloody mind-reader, am I?”