All the things you shouldn't do while you still can

WE can all see what’s coming. Another cancelled Christmas, another January lockdown, all of it. These are the things you shouldn’t do while you can: 

Go to the cinema to see Spider-Man

You’ve got what, five days to see the only Marvel movie of the year that truly deserves the big screen? The multiverse and all that? You need to cleanse your palate of Eternals before we’re all locked down until bloody April. This is Marvel, it’s important. 

Go to the pub

Remember how welcome it felt to be back at the pub this year? How you went to book and spontaneously bought a pint and sat drinking it on your own in weak spring sunshine? Relive that incredible moment and remember it by taking at least 30 selfies.

Go for a meal

You’ll be able to book a table because everyone’s cancelled due to the very real risk of getting Covid, so it’s a great opportunity! Enjoy a meal cooked by somebody else for the last time in months. The service won’t be great because so many staff are self-isolating, but don’t let that worry you. 

Go shopping

Go on, it’s Christmas. Ideally somewhere enclosed, like Bluewater or the Trafford Centre. Happily drift from crowded store to crowded store, mingling with literally thousands of coughing others over the course of a busy day. Worth it because your sister will love that scarf. 

Go to a gig

Okay, you’re not feeling so great but it’s probably a cold and won’t stop you going to tonight’s gig. Who knows when you’ll have chance to be part of a huge crowd, all singing lustily along to classic hits, bumping up against each other all sweaty, again? 

Go to hospital

When that cough develops into classic Covid symptoms, get yourself down the hospital and beat the rush. It’s not going to close like everything else, but soon it’ll be so full of people you’ve given Omicron to at the pub, Nando’s, shops and a gig the treatment will be substandard at best. Hope you make it out!

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If you're thinking of getting rid of me, two words - Liz Truss

By Boris Johnson

I’M not a complete chump, I know what you people think of me. That I’m a corrupt, incompetent arse only interested in yours truly, rather than the country I’ve bafflingly been elected to govern. 

Even some of my old Tory pals are beginning to cotton on. And there’s more than a scintilla of truth in that accusation.

But before you give me the heave-ho consider who’s coming up the rails to fill the prime ministerial shoes.

Liz Truss. That’s right. The Poundshop Thatcher. The queen of the far right bonkers brigade. The one who did that speech about cheese as if she’d just been kicked in the head by a horse.

You see the thing about me is that with all the Build Brexit Back Better, Bertie Booster nonsense, I don’t actually believe it, any more than old flagshagger Sir Keith Starmer wears Union Jack pyjamas to bed. I’m not an idiot.

Truss, though, does believe it. She’s got that mad gleam in her eye. She thinks securing a trade deal with the Christmas Islands makes us a world-beating nation and that we shouldn’t be ashamed of our nation’s wealth being built on the slave trade.

I’d say the same thing but only because I’m a cynic, not a raving, doolally, away-with-the-fairies loon.

Trust me, she’d be delivering the Queen’s speech herself against a 40-foot-high Union Jack, we’d be in an anti-EU alliance with Hungary and Belarus and you’d all be hankering for the days of kinder, saner Boris.