The actual drug classification system that every Briton knows in their heart

THE government can say what it likes: every Briton knows that cannabis is Class C and crack cocaine is Class A. Here’s how it actually works:

Class C: cannabis, street cocaine

A sensible, thinking person’s classification based on how long it f**ks you up for. And everyone knows that a couple of hours after a spliff you’re pretty much straight again because Mariokart has lost its charm and you regret eating a family bag of Kettle Chips.

Street cocaine is similar, except the return to full functioning is about 20 minutes later and all you want is better cocaine.

Class B: Ecstacy, magic mushrooms, LSD, decent cocaine

If you’re taking any of these, you’re bidding reality a fond farewell for at least eight hours. Even with coke you’re gone for the night. You need to be in a situation where you can close the curtains, abandon all wordly responsibilities and let that shit rip.

Class B drugs are therefore a step up and only for experienced users, not to be done alone and not for anyone who’ll take their hit and then reveal to the horror of all assembled that they’re working on the butchers’ counter at Morrisons in six hours.

Class A: heroin, crack cocaine, actual cocaine

The British public makes the rare exception of agreeing with their government on these. These are not substances for the dabbler, because that dabbler will soon be addicted and broken and destitute.

When guys who are into the myriad possibilities of hemp talk about legalising drugs, it’s hoped they don’t mean these. How long do they f**k you up for? Frequently for life.

Rightfully exempt from classification: alcohol

Alcohol? That’s not a drug. You can buy it at Tesco. Yes, it’s a psychoactive substance which causes altered mental states which you can get hooked on and lose everything to, but it’s not a drug. It’s more of a friend.

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'Aspiration Nation' and other Tory leadership campaign bullshit translated

CONSERVATIVE leadership hopefuls are using phrases like ‘personal responsibility’ and ‘aspiration nation’ in their speeches. But what do they really mean?

‘No comforting fairy tales’

Rishi Sunak pledged to get tough and confront the problems facing the country head on, rather than telling people ‘comforting fairy tales’. Which translates as ‘everything is going to be f**king awful but I’m still trying to sugarcoat the truth because I want you to make me prime minister’.

‘Low tax, small state, personal responsibility’

All of these phrases, used by Penny Mourdant in her campaign launch speech, are firm favourites with Tory voters. In their ears, they translate to ‘keep your money for yourself rather than giving it to dole scum scroungers’ and ‘you can afford to pay for private health care so f**k everyone else’. No wonder she’s one of the favourites to win.

‘The Ben & Jerry’s tendency’

Kemi Badenoch used this phrase to hit out at businesses who show an interest in social justice as well as profit, but she might as well have just yelled ‘Go woke, go broke!’ like a demented Twitter troll. However, given that Ben & Jerry’s made $170 million last year, it doesn’t seem that their ethical approach is doing them much harm.

‘Our party has lost its sense of self’

Penny Mourdant again, showing plenty of tact with this phrase when presumably what she actually wanted to say was ‘Our party has lost its f**king mind’. A sly little dig at the carnage of the Boris Johnson years, here Penny is promising to get the Tories back to being competently awful rather than chaotically awful.

‘Aspiration nation’

Part of Liz Truss’ campaign speech, ‘aspiration nation’ translates to ‘I reckon I’ve already got this in the bag so I’ll say some vacuous shit that rhymes and not worry about having any policies with real substance’. Unfortunately for Truss it looks like Mourdant is trouncing her, so she may be regretting this snappy little phrase now.