Strange but True

Most people in Britain believe the movie, "Back to the future" is partially set thirty years in the future of 1989.

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Let's end sexual poverty in the UK

After the disturbing report that found one in three british men are going without sex for up to a year or more, it's time something was done to help.

Over the next few weeks, we will be launching the "Throw a Dog a Bone" promotion that aims to help find sex for British men.

If you're blind or sight impaired or are currently working in the London Sex Industry and finding it hard to solicit work, we need your help.

Please email your details, together with any special requirements such as wheelchair access and we will put you in touch with a list of British men whose skin conditions and social inadequecices threaten to put them beyond reach of even the most fugly five pinter.

The Aged and those awaiting transgender surgery are welcome.
Together, we can make a difference.

The saddest dessert in the world.

Here’s a list of All-time favourite British Recipes that I discovered in a book titled, “British Cuisine”; a cookbook that valiantly delves into the shallow pond of British fare.

Cauliflower Cheese.
Macaroni and Cheese.
Mashed potato and sausages.
Bacon, Sausages, Eggs and Mushrooms.

Not exactly inspiring. Comfort food for the most part. Fried meat. Boiled starch. Gravy. It’s your basic retirement home menu. They try to dress up some of the more lifeless dishes with interesting names such as Toad in the ‘ole and Bubble & Squeak (which from what I can tell, is refried leftovers), but even the most recklessly exotic dishes were little more than the kind of careful, easy to boil food you’d make on a camping trip.

And then, just when I thought I’d hit the utter bedrock of dreariness with Unseasoned Lamb Cutlets, I turned to the dessert chapter and found, without a doubt, the most awesomely uninspiring dessert I have ever heard of.

Bread and Butter Pudding

Allow me to clarify. This recipe actually calls for six slices of stale bread.
That’s not a dessert. That’s a health code violation.

And don’t think for a moment that this dessert comes with lashings of chocolate cream or heaped spoonfuls of vanilla custard.

Oh no.

Once you butter the STALE BREAD, you pop it in the oven and pour some milk on top.
If you’re feeling particularly crazy, and this is probably limited to 21st Birthday parties and Silver Wedding Anniversaries, you might, might, add a spoonful of raisins.

British moms don’t love their children. It's that simple.
The proof is in the bread and butter pudding.

The book continues with some pretty detailed instructions on how to do difficult things like fry bacon (???) and how to, I swear this is true, Butter toast as well as an assorted grab bag of quotes from British food chewers.

“The best reward for finishing my maths homework was a big plate of cauliflower cheese. Even now when I eat it, I know I’ve been a good girl”.

This quote is so sad it makes me want to cry.
She’s probably 47 years old.

I think my favourite quote was from a man in Surrey, which in my mind, sums up the utterly hopeless case for British cuisine.

When asked what his all time favourite British recipe was, the one thing that recalled his younger days, his Blue Day Food, the one dish that always puts a smile on his face, he replied,

“I really like buttered toast.”

The only place they don't moan is the bedroom.

It has oft been remarked that the British would much prefer a hot water bottle to a sex life and now science is backing it up.

An international study in the Journal of Sex and Marital Therapy reports that only 70 per cent of men in Britain have had sex in the last year and that British men have a significantly worse sex life than, well, than anyone. Even the Amish.

Why is this?
What is it about the British male that makes them so inadequete?

From what I've seen the average Brit seems pretty aggresively proud of his own heterosexuality.
They like to fight and rev their cars.
They like to shout at televisions.

So why can't they get it together with the ladies?

And here’s what I’ve discovered.

What English men secretly want,
more than anything else in the world,
is to be with other English men.

Go to a pub and look around. Find a group of roughly 100 men. It won’t be hard, there’s ararely a woman in sight. Find a group of 100.

Statistically speaking,
thirty of these men haven't had sex in a year.

A year!
Thirty of them.

That's a third of the male population. That's lot of horny assholes. You know, I have searched for a reason as to why English men are so angry, why they boil over at the drop of a feathered hat, why they shout drunken obscenities into an empty street. Why they storm soccer pitches to punch players. Why they rustle their newspapers and sigh aggresively.

I had rationalised my theories. Bad diet. Social history. The national bitterness at a declining empire. But it’s so simple.

English men are in desperate, desperate need, of getting laid.

And you know, as truly, god awfully gut scrapingly ugly as the women over here are, as accepting as these land mammoths should be, you know it's not going to happen.

You know that these thirty horny guys, with their sloped shoulders, their freckled complexion, their senstive tummies and their thin, mole ridden chicken legs are going to go home, night after night, to masturbate.

England. Blue blood?
Or blue balls?