Therese Coffey's no-nonsense health guide for Britain

AS the new health minister for you people, I thought it would be a good idea to outline how you can buck up your ideas and get healthy the Tory way. It worked for me!

Avoid silly fads like exercise

People see videos by the latest pop stars like Olivia Newton-John and think jumping up and down is the answer to all your problems. Do you think Liz Truss got where she is today by jumping up and down? No, she did it by delivering. If you want to work up a sweat, work harder for the economy. That’s what matters, not you and your bum.

And vegetables

When I was young, vegetables were something you put on the dining table for display. You didn’t actually eat them, it was meat, meat and more meat. Usually with bread, potatoes, a jug of dripping, extra meat and a pound of treacle pudding for dessert. Did me the power of good. I tell people I turned 50 last year and they won’t believe me.

Ignore doctors, they’re on a cushy number with the NHS

Next time you’re being lectured by your GP about your blood pressure, cholesterol, weight, breathlessness, unhealthily ruddy complexion and frequent palpitations, remember they’re just keeping the NHS cash rolling in. If they gave you proper advice, eg. ‘Eat more fried meat sandwiches with a pint of brandy’ they’d be made redundant by the woke NHS. We’ll do something about that.

Don’t smoke cigarettes. They’re common. Smoke cigars

To paraphrase the greatest woman in history, Margaret Thatcher, anyone still smoking cigarettes aged 30 is a failure. If you haven’t made something of yourself by then and moved onto cigars, you’ve got no willpower and that’s why you die of lung cancer, not the tobacco. 

Don’t live too long being a burden on the economy

Personal responsibility is out of fashion these days, and I’d like to see more people taking control of their lives by dropping dead. The longer you live and the poorer you are, the more of a burden on Britain you’ll be. Think about that next time you’re eating a salad or going for a jog. If you truly love your country, have a 5lb steak and a bucket of profiteroles. I’m doing my bit. Are you?

What to expect from a movie based on its running time

EVERYTHING you need to know about a movie can be inferred from its running time, so figure out what you’re watching before you even start:

40 – 60 minutes

Almost certainly a kid’s film, probably animation with a budget that wouldn’t stretch. Expect a nauseating plot about a lost animal learning moral lessons on the way home. Boring as f**k but genially short. Nap your way through it.

60-90 minutes

A running time becoming an acceptable episode length on Netflix. For a movie, a quick blast of entertainment reserved for comedies and cheap action films. Despite brevity, the twat next to you in the cinema will squeeze past half-a-dozen times to go to the bathroom then complain they can’t follow the plot.

90-120 minutes

The optimal movie running time. The length you secretly hope every film is, especially if it looks arty and you’re only watching it because your partner’s making you. Expect a tight three-act structure packed with twists and reveals at perfectly-timed intervals, with enough room for the odd visual gag. Films never need to be longer than this.

120-180 minutes

The cinematic equivalent of a rambling phone conversation with your mum. The story is bloated, there’s no sign of editing, and the plot’s groaning with superfluous characters who never pay off. You’ll want to walk out but you’ve already invested too much time, plus it must surely be over soon. But isn’t.

180+ minutes

Typically made by Martin Scorsese and Peter Jackson, so brace yourself for hours of gangsters and/or orcs. Superhero films are now pushing three hours because nerds will lap up every second, then sit through the f**king credits for an additional scene that will never be followed up.