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Our Crack Tongue & Groove

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I’ve learned more about human nature from Channel 4’s Come Dine With Me than I have from the collected stories of Henry James. Tuck in.

I often lie awake at night worrying about how I’m going to come across when I eventually appear on Come Dine With Me. It’s a fruitless anxiety because A. I’m never ever going to apply to appear on Come Dine With Me; and B. (See A.). (If I ever feel the need to indulge, I simply go round to my mother-in-laws for tea, rummage around her knicker drawer for a bit, and then slag off the apple crumble.) But watching the programme has led me to believe that the following things are true:

Speaking your mind is not a virtue

At least one person each episode will out themselves as a straight-talker. But show me a “I say it as I see it” type and I’ll show you a churl with a haircut 20 years too young for them who thinks that being rude about someone else’s pavlova will mark them down as a fearless arbiter of truth. If everyone spoke their mind, then we’d all live alone and harbour a murderous hatred for everyone we’ve ever met.

Hot tubs don’t make you classy

There are fewer dispiriting sights in life than a hot tub plonked in the middle of a tussocky strewn back garden in Clacton-on-Sea. Their owners presumably like to imagine that they are rocking some kind of Hugh Hefner vibe, but hot tubs are the flasher macs of garden furniture. And anyone who tries to serve bread and butter pudding to four half-naked strangers in an outdoor Jacuzzi, is borderline insane.

Dinner parties don’t need “entertainment”

Anything that doesn’t involve sitting down, eating food, and drinking alcohol isn’t entertainment; it’s someone interrupting the sitting down, eating food, and drinking alcohol with the most chilling words you’re ever likely to hear outside of war: “Right! Who likes karaoke!”

Leave dressing up to the children

Fancy dress? It’s a great laugh, isn’t it – for about a second. “Ha ha! You’ve come dressed as a sexy pirate! Ha ha! What a brilliant costume! Ha ha! Now spend the rest of the night looking like a complete gonk.”

A lot of people who say that they are sporty are liars

Going to Zumba isn’t the same as doing sport.

Self-appointed jokers are the world’s worst people

If Dave from Arbroath declares: “All my friends know me as Daft Davie because I can’t stop cracking jokes,” then you can guarantee that all of Dave’s friends will secretly refer to him as: “That risible arsehole who never shuts up.”

Actually, practical jokers are worse

Any list of things that are funnier than practical jokers would include Brunswick Industrial Estate, the norovirus and Citizen Khan.

Party girls

Any woman who describes herself as a “party girl” is likely to be a 44-year-old occupational therapist done up like a Christmas tree, who spends her Friday nights trolling around gaudy bars in Llanelli getting ripped to the tits on Barcadi Breezers (ie neither a girl nor any good for a party).

Life would be a whole lot better if Dave Lamb narrated it

Self evidently…