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Big Data has picked up a glitch in its Matrix. The powers watching through raining green computer screen characters, detecting every slight emotion change so as to nudge teens into purchasing diet pills and makeup, have noticed a behavioural shift in North America.



'Obviously I know all your passwords and Personal Identification Numbers,' whispered Big Data in a passive aggressive tone like Batman with a deep throat infection, 'but I don't care for this new fashion of you changing your bank PINs, cellphone passwords, and gimp dungeon entry codes to 8647.'



Orange-tongued overloads calling everyone else not man-uppy enough, uneasily pulled their twisted knickers made from human hide out of their sweaty cracks and burst into tears. 'This is unacceptable. Not enough people are drinking the Kool-Aid,' wailed three multi-billionaires in harmonious unity. 'It puts the lotion on its skin.



'POTUS 47 is the bigliest, bestest ever in the world ever, and no one will be 86-ing him.



'Again.'



Fanny Rogers, a suburban swinger from one of many Aberdeens said, '86? That's a new one on me. A fat slag bumming a goose?'



Professor Phillipa K Wang from the Institute of US Street Slang lowered her glasses seductively and oozed, '86 can mean several things. It depends on sexting context or whether you're arranging shells provocatively on a nudist beach.



'If you're a 1930s soda bar worker in a paper hat, it means you've sold out of Dr Peppers. If you're a 1990s waiter at the Mango Dragon, it's kitchen code for ejecting the drunkard trying to order rice wine. And if you're a moody henchman from Lansing, it means the boss wants you to swing by the dry cleaners on your way in and pick up the concrete jacket.



'Every which way but loose, we're gonna need some more FBI guys, I guess.'


Women who state yoga as a thing they do actually spend more time thinking about doing it than actively doing it. Stiff desk-based software engineer Jemima Bennett regularly sits on the sofa in loose clothing in the position of the basking meerkat binge watching Bridgerton. Each time the adverts come on she decides that at the next ad break she’ll stop watching telly and do some yoga from the DVD she bought in 2004. This sits next to two other still shrink wrapped yoga DVDs. Despite streaming all other media Jemima needs to do yoga from a DVD because otherwise she gets lost in what she should be bending when. She has never got to the end of the DVD. About once a year she completes the first fifteen minutes of the DVD and then spends the next week prancing about like an agile flamingo.


Periodically Jemima decides that going to a class instead of doing yoga at home will motivate her. She then decides none of the local classes are at the optimum time. She mentions this to fellow bendiness-dodger Lucinda and they both sit in the regretful salmon pose by a coffee table with a plate of Bonne Maman Chocolat Caramel Tartelettes (unarguably the middle class Twix).


Both women stand in front of their wardrobes in the posture of the irritable wombat and suffer guilt over the enormously expensive, barely worn leggings they purchased despite yoga not needing special clothes. The leggings have a pocket. This is a win. Months pass in the firm sloth posture and then a microdose of yoga is achieved again.




Researchers across two continents have discovered that ginger cats have the regressive 'moody f$cker' gene. DNA samples reveal 9 out of 10 ginger cats will bite your finger while trying to get a DNA sample.


Gingers are missing a section of their genetic code which makes them give a $hit what you think. This has been replaced by the gene that makes you howl all night like a horny beast, while taking a dump in the neighbour's rose bed.


It also changes the colour of their hair follicles, with orange making them standout from other cats. Although one bleeding scientist remarked: 'As if the growling and crazy eyes were not enough of a give away.'




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