Six things to do with your hands now you can't touch your face

SINCE coronavirus has put an end to the joy of touching your face 23 times an hour, here are six other things to do with your hands:

Craft projects

A great way to occupy your twitchy fingers and to keep friends away in case you make them something. By the end of lockdown every piece of furniture you own could be mosaicked, and your floors could be a sea of embroidered patchwork cushions.

Learn an instrument

Putting pressure on yourself to fulfil unrealistic ambitions is an excellent way to make self-isolation even more stressful. So pick up a second-hand instrument from eBay, because you won’t be able to touch your face while treating your neighbours to a heartfelt rendition of the sax break from Private Dancer.

Write a novel

The only reason you’ve never written a novel previously was because you never had time, and because you’d not really plotted past the first chapter, and because you haven’t written anything longer than a tweet since 2009. So get cracking! Warning: punching yourself in the face counts as touching your face.

Count your pasta

Carefully count out each piece of pasta you’ve managed to hoard and then scoop it all up into your arms and declare yourself king of the world. Maybe put a pan of water on beforehand because this will make you ravenous.

Touch other people’s faces

No specific World Health Organisation guidelines on this one. Gotcha, Tedros! The man needs to be more specific.

Wank like crazy

Nobody touches their face when their hands have been all over their genitalia within the last hour. So do that 23 times a day and repel yourself from touching your face the all-natural way.

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Second home owners admit they didn't know locals were real people

BRITONS who have fled to their second homes have confessed they had no idea that the locals they saw there were actual existing people. 

Joseph Turner, who left London with his family for their place in Weymouth because they wanted a nicer backdrop to really enjoy their lockdown, admitted they thought residents were just extras employed to make the area more charming.

He continued: “So they live here? But how can they afford it?

“I thought all the born-and-bred folk had been priced out long ago, and had been forced to move to a new-build estate somewhere ugly next to an Aldi.

“The locals I see cycling the lanes past the house, propping up the bar in the pub and selling me fresh fish I assumed were shipped in for weekends to provide that delightfully authentic touch.

“But now apparently they ‘live here’ and we ‘shouldn’t be putting pressure on local hospitals’ when I didn’t even know there were hospitals. Do people really go to doctors in this backwater? It’s like something from a Thomas Hardy novel.

“I hope they don’t get ill. We’ve only had half the walled garden planted so it would be massively inconvenient.”