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Silvio Berlusconi's posthumous guide to living your best life

BILLIONAIRE media magnate, AC Milan’s saviour, prime minister and certainly never involved in the Mafia, Trump and Johnson are mere pale imitations of me: 

I found love

Is there one woman for every man, or just the leavings after I’ve had my pick? A couple of wives, a large number of young beauty queens, actresses, professional escorts and simple Italian stripping housewives. Because love is for everyone.

I cherished my friends

My dearest companions included Vladimir Putin and Colonel Gaddafi, before that unfortunate business in Libya. Vlad was particularly supportive when I had to stand down in 2012 due to the 17-year-old belly dancer. Forgive him his current excesses.

I dreamed big

You’ll always regret selling yourself short. Boris Johnson is in trouble for eating a cake. Trump’s never seen the inside of a cell. I was in trouble for €7.3m tax evasion, had 577 visits from the police and was imprisoned for bribery. They have not my aptitude for greatness.

I enjoyed the moment

What I achieved with AC Milan – the Immortals, back-to-back European cups – has only been equalled by the recent achievements of Ryan Reynolds’s Wrexham. A high only comparable to a 25-year-old Puerto Rican mistress and 6g of fine flake. The simple things.

I was hospitable

There were few parties like Sylvio’s parties since the 120 days of Sodom. 100 bottles of decent champagne, a fully-stocked bar, 30 or so €1,500-a-night escorts, dancing girls, high-quality class-A drugs, restaurant-standard catering and approximately 25 spare bedrooms. Heaven is bunga-bunga.

I stayed healthy

To get the most out of life watch what you eat, get regular exercise. And you know what they say the best form of exercise is? To travel the world, meet interesting people and f**k them.

I owned the entire media

Trump has one channel. Boris has a mere three newspapers still presenting him as the Messiah. I had everything, my face the logo in the corner of every screen, and when caught in criminal behaviour I passed laws to make it legal.

I stayed young in spirit

Age makes us closed-minded and fearful of change. I maintained a youthful outlook by remembering that nothing keeps you fresh than the untrammelled exercise of absolute power. Thankfully, Italy’s always been relaxed about that.

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Six feel-good drinking songs to mask your summertime bingeing

THE sun is out, drinking six bottles of Sol is necessary if you hope to survive, and these pro-alcohol anthems make it wholly acceptable on a Monday night: 

Tubthumping by Chumbawamba, 1997

An ode to resilience, the major-label hit from everyone’s favourite anarcho-punk collective makes getting leathered the duty of the political working class. Listing off drinks like Lemmy’s shopping list, you should down them all in order or risk being told you’ve sold out to The Man.

Cigarettes and Alcohol by Oasis, 1994

To the middle-aged Britpop veteran, nothing tops Liam Gallagher’s ill-informed braggadocio about the joys of coke and booze. Why aspire to better yourself when you can get shitfaced in a beer garden smoking fags?

Come On Eileen by Dexy’s Midnight Runners, 1982

Doesn’t strictly mention booze, but the only way you come up with a plan to seduce a woman by getting all of your mates to chant ‘come on’ at increasing speed is around a crate of beer. Disguises drunkeness because you sound pissed singing it sober.

Escape (The Piña Colada Song) by Rupert Holmes, 1979

A charming, romantic story about a paid of blackout drunks so hammered they answer each other’s personal ads unaware they’ve even written them. That’s what happens when you wash down piña coladas with champagne, you tell your mates’ husband as you lean in for a snog.

Gin and Juice by Snoop Dogg, 1994

The South Central LA vibe makes you feel, even in South Crawley, that you’re living the gangster lifestyle. Little separates Irlam from Inglewood when you’re rollin’ down the high street after 10 pints of Madri. It’s not your fault the pub wouldn’t let you take the bottle of Tanqueray with you.

Red Red Wine by UB40, 1983

A pop-reggae hit about drinking something that, under glaring heat, will give you a headache before you’ve finished the glass? It’s an unwritten law that Red Red Wine validates any embarrassing drunken behaviour, up to and including mooning the Pope.

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