Cheeky reads, quirky finds and a bit of nonsense.
Streaming was supposed to set us free, but in 2026 the remote is still the most fought-over object in the British home. Here is the cheeky field guide to channel flickers, password hoarders, volume tyrants and the delicate art of not ruining family telly time.
The office tea round is not a beverage service; it is a delicate social contract held together by goodwill, memory and the correct biscuit. Here is The Cheekie Monkey’s field guide to surviving the kettle politics of 2026 without accidentally declaring war on Accounts.
There is no British institution quite like the Sunday carvery: a beige banquet, a meat-ladle standoff and a Yorkshire pudding allocation that can make or break family harmony. Here’s our cheeky field guide to surviving the queue, respecting the gravy, and scoring your local in 2026.
A thoroughly unscientific ranking of this year’s Christmas adverts by sob factor, celebrity audacity and mince-pie urgency. Grab a cuppa, lower your expectations and let’s judge telly’s festive offerings with the seriousness they absolutely do not deserve.
The shared office kitchen is a beautiful, terrible ecosystem held together by goodwill, lukewarm kettle water and one unspoken rule about not reheating fish. Here is The Cheekie Monkey’s entirely unofficial survival manual, from decoding passive-aggressive Post-its to surviving the Great Mug Amnesty without losing your mind or your colleagues.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.