Life not worth living without Wilko, says Britain

THE UK has agreed that if Wilko goes under then there will be nothing left worth living for on this pathetic, godforsaken island.

The budget homeware chain is the last bastion of hope and access to cheap crockery in the Britain, and if it collapses the country will slip into a new dark age from which it will never recover.

Regular customer Martin Bishop said: “Please don’t say Wilko might vanish from the high street. We lost Woolworths. Argos is moving online. It’s all we’ve got left.

“Take my house, take my car, heck, take the wife and kids. But please, leave me with an affordable place to buy pick ‘n’ mix and poor-quality garden furniture. Do you want me to get on my knees and beg? I’ll do it.”

Shopper Emma Bradford said: “What would be the point of getting out of bed in the morning knowing that Wilko isn’t there to brighten up my day with its inoffensive canvas prints? Besides heading off to step in front of a train, I can’t think of one.

“Sure, there are other stores selling laughably low thread count bedsheets like B&M and Poundland. But these would be unsatisfying substitutes to my one true love. My own, my precious, my Wilko.”

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Horse faced posho or Red Wall Tory? Rate your social class by how long you leave your teabag in

TEA. Whether it’s high tea at Claridges or low tea in some ghastly greasy spoon, it’s the measure of how you rank in Britain. What does the length of time you leave your bag in say about you?

Ten minutes

You are the lowest, commonest troglodyte. You want your tea so strong it might challenge you to a fight just for looking at it. In fact, you often get a punch in first just in case.

Eight minutes

You are Red Wall, you are Northern, you’ll vote against your own interests just to annoy the beard-stroking whale-hugging lesbians in the ivory towers of Islington. But you can at least afford a microwave to reheat your tea after leaving it to sit that long.

Six minutes

You want a proper brew, but you also want to drink something that isn’t the colour and consistency of wet brick dust. You’re the type of person who still claims to be working class despite owning a MacBook and calling your daughter Sophie.

Four minutes

Ooh, get you now that you’ve moved down to London! You want your tea to taste of something while also having a pallor that suggests you’re sticking your little finger out as you drink it.

Two minutes

You’re turning into a right twat. Sometimes you even drink lapsang souchong, for Christ’s sake.

One minute

Okay, you’ve got an Aga, you own a horse and you’ve have never ventured further North than Watford.

Ten seconds

You are Camilla Parker-Bowles and you are basically drinking hot water. But you’re so inbred that your tastebuds don’t function so you haven’t actually noticed.