Holding a mirror up to Britain's finest absurdity
I walked into a London coffee shop and asked for a builders tea. What followed was seventeen minutes of existential theatre, a QR code, and a young man named Cosmo who appeared to be physically pained by the word 'milk'. This is my testimony.
Congratulations on your new position. Before you touch the kettle, there are forty-seven things you need to know. Derek Flinch has read the employee handbook so you don't have to — though frankly, he wishes he hadn't.
Alistair Bogg attempts to survive seven days consuming only foods that haven't been taxed, shamed, or issued a stern warning by a publicly funded quango. The results are, predictably, both depressing and faintly absurd. Britain, it turns out, is running out of permissible pleasures.