My school run doesn't have a clique of Yummy Mummies at the gates, because I'm in Warrington

By Hannah Tomlinson, aged 38, who was ready and willing to have an affair with one of the hot dads

I WAS all ready for the school run. Miu Miu coat. Mulberry bag. Devastating list of my children’s achievements. Then nothing happened, because I’m in Warrington. 

I joined the throng around the gates, waiting for our children to depart and for a wave of competitive boasting to begin. Would we be aggressively comparing our husband’s jobs? Our Etsy stores? Houses, cars, holidays? As it turned out, none of them. 

No, when our little ones wandered in, the other mothers turned around and silently departed. I was left there, chai latte in hand, mouth agape, with nobody to tell about the triathlon I’m doing in May. 

I tried again the next day. ‘Can anyone hook me up with a private tutor?’ I asked. ‘Isabella’s struggling with her Spanish.’ Blank looks. ‘They’ve got teachers at the school,’ one drab mother who can’t have spent even an hour on her hair muttered. 

Okay, so this crowd isn’t aspirational! Though still managing to ostracise me, I noted, impressed. 3pm was no different. I announced my intention to organise a fundraising gala to shrugs. Where was these mothers’ combative spirit? 

My husband’s bonus? Nothing. Our plans to build a basement swimming pool and home cinema? Nothing. Our half-term trip to the opening gala for Santander’s new art museum? Either they’re hiding it very well or they actually weren’t jealous. 

I told my husband it was a mistake to move here. In anywhere civilised I’d already be at war with the ruling clique after they shut me out of the PTA for having the wrong kind of Cockapoo. We’re moving back to Islington. 

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Six bribes from world leaders to Trump now the bar's been set at 'two pandas'

CHINA’S Xi Jinping has stunned rivals by bribing Trump with two adult panda bears. How are other world leaders going to beat that?

Anthony Albanese, Australia

You can’t top Oz when it comes to exotic animals, mate. We’ll give him a numbat, a duck-billed platypus, a Tasmanian devil, a breeding population of chlamydia-infected koalas, a couple of cassowaries, a dropbear and a genuine boxing kangaroo that hops around and beats shit out of people. All on the condition he leaves us the f**k alone.

Vladimir Putin, Russia

F**k animals. I will give him what any dictator truly craves: territory. Ukraine is part of Russia obviously, nobody disputes that, but once it has been reunited with the motherland my forces will march on and when we conquer the EU we shall award him whichever countries he should choose. We just need to get past this bit we’re stuck in. Any day now.

Kim Jong-un, North Korea

From one lonely leader to another, I shall give the gift of friendship. Understanding. The empathy of another man who has hit the peak, who has climbed higher than lesser men ever could, and still craves the world’s respect. We will hold hands.

Lee Jae Myung, South Korea

Typically cheap gift. If what Trump truly desires is exotic pets, we shall give him the most exotic of all: his own K-pop band. Called QEEDTH, they will comprise four boys and five girls raised in complete isolation from all human contact, trained to perform sterile hip hop in a foreign language and never to make eye contact.

Andy Burnham, UK

Britain doesn’t have any exotic animals because it is at heart a deeply boring country. But we do have music, so I’ve given him Adele, Morrissey, Robbie Williams, Ian Astbury and Matthew Murphy, lead singer of The Wombats. Hopefully he won’t realise they all already live in LA so I’ve put a big shiny ribbon on f**k all.

Javier Milei, Argentina

I give him penguins – Gentoo, Magellanic, Rockhopper and King varieties – the steamer duck, the Cobb’s wren, and many, many sheep. And I also give him the territory these animals live upon, Las Malvinas or as you call it, the Falkland Islands. Try getting that back off him, Britain.