Heat wave articles must show scantily clad women, laughing in the park

As the mercury heads up, newspaper picture editors are focussing on pretty young women sunbathing and certainly not climate change seeing the world burn.

Photojournalist and pervert Warren Wright was sweating profusely because of the heat and his internalised misogyny. ‘They have to be girl-next-door types. White, obviously – got to think of that racist market. Nice tits, obviously – got to think of the pervert market. Ideally there’s a sprinkler in the background to give a hint of a wet t-shirt. And they should be laughing. But not reading. That gives the wrong impression. Also, no fat chicks and no dudes.’

Wright spied two unwitting female students and instinctively hid in a bush. His long lens was fully erect as he leered ‘Phwoar, what a scorcher. They’re 18 – probably – perfect.’

image from pixabay

A policeman's lot

Woman suddenly feels irresistible urge to mull

At midnight on December 1st, the true dawn of the Christmas season, Janice Langley, 56, of Nottingham felt an unusual yet familiar urge. That urge was to mull.

She told us that she was in her kitchen, enjoying a hot cocoa with her husband, Ken, before retiring to bed. All of a sudden, the cocoa seemed dull and uninteresting and offensively unfestive. She immediate dashed to her cupboards and rifled through them with such alarming urgency, it caused her startled husband to cry out.

"What's happening, Love, what are you looking for", said a clearly unsettled Ken, "everything's falling on the floor".

He was right, the floor now sported Smores kits, hot chocolate envelopes, 3 mint tea bags and numerous assorted bean cans.

"I MUST MULL, " whispered Janice, "I MUST MULL!"

Finally, she seemed triumphant and emerged from a below surface cupboard with a small bottle of mulling syrup, bought last year but never opened. She unscrewed the bottle top and poured a good glug of the syrup into her Cocoa. She inhaled deeply and drank heartily.

"Yes. YES!" she shouted before pouring some syrup into Ken's glass of bitter, the cats milk and the budgies water dish. Ken had to stop her running outside after she had spied an unmulled bird bath in the garden.

"It was like she was possessed", said a breathless Ken, "every year it happens and every year I forget. I mean we all love Christmas but she mulled the communion wine and the holy water last year on Christmas Day. We've not been asked back to St Cuthbert's since".

image from pixabay