What do most people do on their morning commute? Some scroll through their phone, some listen to tunes and many others choose to delve into a nice novel. However, 29-year-old vehicle technician Damian Gormley of Deptford, South East London, opened up to Sick Chirpse to announce that, despite regularly cradling open books in public, he actually despises reading.

Everybody knows that reading is shit. It’s boring and for the elderly and clueless who can’t work out how to plug a pair of headphones into their iPhone.

I’ll let you into a secret though. The ladies – they fucking love it. They think I’m intelligent and quirky. The amount of hook-ups I’ve arranged from staring at a musty old sheet of paper inside a battered leather bound book about equality is crazy.

Steve Parry, Damian’s best friend and apprentice fake book reader, told us:

It’s hilarious. Damian is actually thick as pig shit and would struggle to read a colouring in book. He’s fuck ugly and looks like a vile cross breed of Adrian Chiles and Jo Brand – but the lad just cannot stop getting laid.

Damian explained that book genre is key to guaranteeing a bang.

I won’t tell you what does work; because there are already swarms of us clogging up the Northern Line. What I will tell you is books by Andy McNab will not get you between the sheets with Kensington’s finest. Ditch the Harry Potter, well unless you are a paedophile. Oh, and avoid buying a Kindle like a massage parlour run by lepers.

We were informed that the art of “literature laying” is not restricted to the tube. You can do it anywhere we learnt.

Get yourself a pair of thick rimmed glasses, roll up your jeans like a try hard hipster and get yourself down to an artisan coffee shop for a dairy free latte with a bit of Jayne Eyre my son. You’ll see.

And for god’s sake, avoid any of these books like the plague.