I have a private code phrase known to no one but myself that I will use to verify it's really me if I ever meet my past or future self via time travel.

Last Christmas I drew the woman who always microwaves fish in the break room for Secret Santa. I bought a second-hand microwave for her office so she could cook it there instead. HR reprimanded me. I'm willing to bet it's because she is in HR.

Got selected for my brother's university's University Challenge team. The uni only found out I wasn't a student after we'd been on TV, so they couldn't do anything about it, but they were shitting themselves. Fortunately for them we got knocked out quickly.

I once drunkenly slept with a housemate who then decided to make home life pretty toxic. To avoid this I spent most of my evenings at my work desk watching shite on YouTube. I was given two promotions in just over six months.

We're friends with a family who do the same 3 holidays every year, go to the same restaurant every birthday, go the same takeaway every Friday and order the same food. They just re-enact a handful of life experiences on loop. I don't know why, but it really fucking pisses me off.

I work in telephone sales for an insurance company. The next two customers I had to call were Mrs Cockburn and then Mr Woodhead. In a moment of confusion I asked to speak to Mr Cockhead, immediately hung up and marked them both as Do No Contact in the CRM.

I supply and fit kitchens for a living. If i find you rude, snobby, condescending or obnoxious I add a £500 epic twat tax to your quote. I then pay it forward by knocking that £500 off the quote of somebody polite, friendly and humble. Good little system. Down with the twats.

Dad has been in hospital for a few weeks. No access to GB News. It has been very refreshing being able to have a normal conversation with him again, not one mention of immigrants or liberals.

I used to collect tickets at a railway station. I also played in the darts team for the pub across the road. I'd often have to pause mid game to meet the train then come back to continue chucking arrows; best job I ever had.

Husband has always been an angry, pompous twat. Thinks he's the love of my life. He doesn't know that I've written a published book that basically is just a fictional list of characters who all meet their deaths in the ways in which I wish he'd die in terrible circumstances.