Your guide to being a coronavirus twat at the seaside

IT’S sunny, so ignore coronavirus completely and get yourself down to the nearest crowded seaside town. Here’s how to be as irresponsible as possible.

Jump off something tall 

There’s something about bright sunlight that causes idiots to leap off 200ft cliffs. Don’t worry, the overloaded emergency services don’t mind saving you from drowning and fixing your spine – they just want you to have a good time showing off to your mates.

Become massively overconfident with booze

Find a pub with a garden and social distancing measures in place, then ignore them as you get progressively more wankered. By 3pm you should be breathing all over staff and barging into other customers; by 5pm you should be convinced you are impervious to coronavirus and that it is ‘all a load of bollocks’.

Be a massive hypocrite 

After driving 30 miles to the nearest seaside resort to get a suntan, be absolutely furious at the 5,000 other people who had the same unimaginative idea. If you really lack self-awareness, call the police and ask them to move people on from your personal spot, ie Bournemouth.

Be a litter lout

Ruin everyone else’s enjoyment by leaving rubbish everywhere. And with refuse collections disrupted, why not stick your wheelie bins in the boot of your car and empty them on the beach, alongside your knackered old lawnmower?

Have a violent altercation 

The British seaside is all about kitschy amusements, ice cream and paddling in the sea, right? Wrong. It’s a macho battle against anyone else who also is stuck in the queue for the car park. Give them some abuse and boot their driver’s door in. You don’t take no shit on a day out at the seaside.

 

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The Guardian's guide to why you shouldn't enjoy that

OH dear, it looks like you’re enjoying something which the Guardian says you shouldn’t. Here staff writer Nathan Muir explains how to feel guilty about everything.

You’re probably privileged

If you’re reading the Guardian looking for something to feel guilty about you’ve got too much time on your hands, so feel guilty about that. You probably need to check your privilege anyway. You might not feel privileged, but you are compared to someone, eg. an Eritrean farmer.

Whatever you’re enjoying has got a carbon footprint

If it exists it’s got a carbon footprint, and that means it’s worse than a person who once enjoyed a Woody Allen film. Don’t mind us though, we’re just a newspaper you’re either reading on sheets of dead tree or a smartphone manufactured in a sweatshop. Feel guilty, but definitely keep reading.

Someone, somewhere, could take offence

Even if you and your friends enjoyed a thing, there’s undoubtedly some weirdo somewhere who misinterpreted it and thinks it’s disgusting. You didn’t consider their feelings though did you? You’re practically a Nazi.

There’s another angle you haven’t even considered yet

Fortunately I, a smug Guardian writer, have discovered the uncomfortable truth that casts the topic in question in a whole new light. One you should feel guilty about. I won’t tell you what it is in the headline though because I like sounding smart and desperately need you to click through.

Find out more at our Masterclasses

We can’t even begin to cover why you shouldn’t enjoy that thing in a single article. Luckily our How To Feel Guilty course will teach you everything you need to know about self-flagellation. Tickets for the two-hour workshop are now available for just £350 per person. Do we feel guilty about that? Certainly not.