Cheeky reads, quirky finds and a bit of nonsense.
Panto season is back, and the audience is part of the cast whether the theatre likes it or not. Here’s how to shout, boo and heckle like a proper Brit in 2026 — without getting escorted out by a bloke called Dave in a high-vis tabard.
There's a precise moment on a sunny Saturday when a British pub garden stops being a place of leisure and becomes a contested border zone. Here's our cheeky field guide to claiming a table, defending your patch and committing none of the classic etiquette crimes.
The cheeky Nando’s is less a meal and more a national institution with its own laws, hierarchies and diplomatic incidents. We bravely wade into the heat-scale politics, the ordering ceremony and the side-order civil war that splits families every Friday night.
From the cheeky Nando’s to the cheeky mid-afternoon biscuit, we’ve put Britain’s favourite modifier through a totally unscientific 2026 ranking. Expect mock-science, reader nominations and one very cheeky test.
Britain’s self-checkouts are not really tills. They are tiny stages where we perform innocence, panic and the tactical packing shuffle for an audience of one smug machine. Pull up a basket and enjoy the panto.
You went in for milk. You came out with a kayak, a chainsaw and a vague sense of shame. A loving tribute to the British supermarket middle aisle, where impulse buys become family folklore and nobody ever leaves with just the essentials.
The office Secret Santa is not a gift exchange. It’s a £10 social experiment with tinsel. From the colleague who overspends to the ‘funny’ mug that haunts the kitchen, here’s how to survive the swap with your dignity and your friendships intact.
Britain does not have a national anthem so much as a national shuffle forward. From the sigher to the space-invader, here’s an affectionate field guide to queue etiquette for 2026’s pop-ups, festivals and ticket drops.
A dawn raid on other people’s spare rooms, held in a damp field and soundtracked by a man selling extension leads. Here’s the Cheekie guide to haggling kindly, spotting quiet gems and surrendering to the mystery carrier bag.
Forget whispering about your savings — in 2026, Brits are announcing their thrifty wins like football scores. A cheeky look at loud budgeting, yellow-sticker hauls and the fine art of out-frugalling your mates without turning into a human spreadsheet.
There is no trophy, no prize money worth mentioning and absolutely no mercy. A cheeky field guide to the glorious chaos of the British pub quiz, from the captain with a clipboard to the mate Googling under the table.
Charity shops are the last great British adventure, and the £2 rail is where the magic happens. Here is the cheekie guide to turning a wet Saturday rummage into a game of bingo, complete with weird ornaments, forgotten board games and the unspoken rules of the rails.
Every week, the nation performs a silent, wheel-based ballet on the pavement. Bin day is not a chore; it is our most underrated local sport. Here is the tongue-in-cheek training regime for ordinary households hoping to reach binfluencer status.
The great British mooch — wandering shops with no intention of buying anything — is under threat from efficient people with lists. We say it’s time to revive the aimless Saturday potter, one free biscuit at a time.
Forget the Olympics. Britain’s real sporting drama is unfolding on bin day, behind the hedge and next to the garden gnome with the chipped hat. Here’s your cheeky field guide to the neighbourhood contests nobody admits they’re training for.
Doomscrolling is out; dad jokes, silly walks and competitive egg-and-spoon races are in. The Cheekie Monkey investigates the rise of 'nonsense wellness'—and why a bit of public embarrassment might be the most British wellbeing boost going. Includes a deeply unscientific self-test.
Forget beige staycations and another mooch round a garden centre. The Cheekie Monkey has assembled 12 properly silly UK days out for 2026, complete with rough costs, travel faff and a script for convincing your mates. Bring cash, a change of socks and absolutely no dignity.