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The apps tho, they’re a circus—clowns galore. Profiles full of “DTF” and bad selfies. Funniest bit? Some twat wrote “looking for soulmate” but can’t spell “soul.” I’m cackling, picturing Boonmee’s monkey ghosts swiping for a root. Oh, and the sexting—christ, it’s like “show me ya bits” in five secs flat. Used to be you’d buy a pint first, now it’s straight to “wanna fk?” Annoys me, that—where’s the bloody charm?

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So, I’m walking down the street, and I bump into this old bloke, Mr. Thompson. He’s always ranting about something. Today, it’s about the state of the roads. “Have you seen the potholes on Baildon Road?” he yells. I’m like, “Chill, mate, it’s just a pothole.” But he’s going off about how it’s gonna swallow a car whole. I mean, he’s not wrong, but c’mon, it’s Baildon, not the moon!

Baildon blow Bees away in shockingly one-sided Bradford derby