The timeline of the Daily Mail’s vendetta against Meghan from now to 2081AD

THE Daily Mail shows no sign of ending its incensed vendetta against the Duchess of Sussex. Here’s how it will continue for the next six decades:


The Mail keeps up a minimum quota of 15 anti-Meghan stories per day, including highlights like ‘The Covid pandemic of 2020-2023 – did Meghan cause it?’ and ‘Has Meghan castrated Harry to keep him chained in a cage?’


The Mail now has a daily section where they ask random people ‘Why is Meghan so shit and evil?’ Every day, the person who gives the best reason wins a house. Sometimes they get squirrels and pigeons to crap on a picture of her.


Most of the senior monarchy are dead now, but the Mail will never forget. The artificial intelligence algorithm created from Sarah Vine’s columns is still writing articles like ‘I don’t want to say slut – but look at Meghan’s CHEAP SHOES’.


As global warming floods British cities and fresh pandemics reduce the world’s population by 45 per cent, ordinary people no longer remember who Meghan was. The Mail is undeterred and pointedly offers readers a free Diana calendar, titled ‘Count down to the End of Days with a Proper Princess’.


Nuclear war has begun as China, the US and Europe struggle to secure dwindling resources. In a bunker deep below London, Mail bots continue to churn out clickbait like ‘Did Meghan antagonise China with Oprah interview?’


As stunted, irradiated humans begin trying to rebuild society, the Mail sets up primitive printing presses. Their first story is: ‘Why Princess Margaret showed more dignity than Meghan ever did’.

2080 and beyond

The world is in ruins and humanity is wiped out. A lone newspaper blows in the wind through a deserted, lifeless city. The headline? ‘‘Why did OUR HARRY ever marry this AMERICAN ACTRESS gold-digger?’

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How drunk can you get at online Cheltenham?

CHELTENHAM Festival has always been the perfect excuse to get wrecked from 10am while pretending to watch horses. But how can you reproduce that online?

9am: Be up and at your laptop laying bets, discussing odds in a chat window with friends, and keeping it light with a white wine spritzer to take the edge off your hangover. If you are not hungover, you have failed to properly prepare.

10am: Dress up in top hat and tails or, for ladies, a dress with a surrealist hat too large to fit through doors. Look at yourself in the wardrobe mirror. The urge to drink should rise naturally.

11.30am: By this point you should have lost money on several horses and be consuming an entire bottle of Dom Perignon with a wafer-thin slice of smoked salmon on the side to soak up the damage. If you don’t have any, Sheba Classics Salmon in Terrine pouches are just as good.

2.30pm: You’ve won your first bet! Celebrate by falling backwards from your office chair and imagine yourself lying on mud, surrounded by a forest of uncaring legs. Knock back some gin from the hip flask hidden in your fascinator.

5pm: Several hours should have passed without you realising when you step out of the wardrobe and see your friends waiting for you on Zoom. Order another bucket of champagne, chat yourself up while serving it, then realise you’ve been sick down your front.

10pm: Awake with a start to find your monitor no longer showing horseys but the inside of a private club. Discover you are playing online roulette, and have just placed £2,000 on red. Black out again.

2am: It’s time to throw yourself out of your own house, have a little doze on the street, stagger back in through the door before falling unconscious. Congratulations! You’ve recreated Cheltenham in your own home. Now repeat every day this week, hoping you win enough to buy a new liver.