Mr Incel woke up feeling aroused. Very aroused. But Mr Incel had no girlfriend. Mr Incel looked up at the paint peeling from the ceiling above his single bed. He sighed and wondered why women got to have all the nice ceilings. Probably because they have vagina’s he thought. And we all know vaginas have a higher market rate than any global currency. As he pondered the unfairness of it all, he got out of bed and stumbled miserably across the hall to the bathroom.

Mr Incel was annoyed. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t get a woman to be with him. Mr Incel looked in the mirror and caught sight of the greasy unkempt hair which hung damply around his face, drenched in the sweat of last night’s wet dream. His moustache bedraggled and laden with bits of yesterday’s dinner, clung solemnly to his top lip. Mr Incel lifted the lid of the toilet and held his below average penis between his thumb and forefinger to relieve himself, urine dribbling onto his socks as he did so.

Mr Incel did not wash his hands, nor did he wash his hair, nor did he wash his below average penis. Mr Incel felt confident that he was a catch, and any woman of his choosing should be happy to have him. Mr Incel did not believe in grooming himself to attract a mate, nor did he believe in making any kind of effort. Women these days are too big for their boots he thought. Out here working, having access to their own finances and living life on their own terms. That’s the real problem thought Mr Incel. They have too much freedom nowadays.

Mr Incel threw on yesterday’s clothes and kept on yesterday’s socks, he turned yesterday’s boxers inside out and took a bite of yesterday’s pizza which lay in a box on his bedroom floor. Mr Incel said goodbye to his mummy as she handed him his packed lunch and stumbled forlornly through the front door.

At work, Mr Incel pretended to work while spending his time scrolling his phone. He checked the pages of his favourite Insta models to see if they’d replied to his comments or messages. Mr Incel spent all day looking at sexy women in sexy outfits and wondering when it would be his turn for some sexy fun. By the end of the day, Mr Incel was enraged. He’d left multiple messages; he’d liked all their pictures but not one had taken the time to reply. This is why he hated women, they lead you on and waste your time he thought.

As Mr Incel lusted over the model women in his phone, Little Miss Average tried to speak to him. So as not to be distracted from his digital fantasies, he shooed her away, Looking at her with irritation and disgust as he did so. He could not believe she had the audacity to speak to him, doesn’t she know he’s a high value man and she is average at best? Bemused he shook his head and continued to look at sexy women on his phone.

That night as he climbed back into bed, still wearing yesterday’s boxers and socks, Mr Incel reflected on all the ways women had annoyed him that day. Mr Incel hated women but he loved their lady parts. He wished he could have one without the other. As the sound of his neighbours having sex grew louder through the walls, Mr Incel turned the air blue with expletives. Not only was he not getting any, but his neighbour seemed to be having the time of her life. Mr Incel reached over the side of the bed and collected yesterday’s crusty “bedtime” sock that was still damp from the night before. As he relieved himself into it for the 6^th time that week, while listening to the wails of pleasure emanating from next door, a single tear escaped his eye and ran slowly down his cheek.

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