Six essential cybersecurity tips to ignore entirely

YOUR money, your identity and your life are all online, and you’re still using the same password you used on MySpace in 2006. Ignore these tips: 

Implement the latest anti-virus software

You installed this and your laptop slowed to a crawl. So it’s effective in that any prospective hacker would give up on their slim hope you have bitcoin after five minutes waiting for the Tesco site to load, but otherwise a waste of £29.99 every quarter.

Regularly back up your data

You bought an expensive five terabyte external hard drive, saved your data on it and then forgot the password. Now you’re not even sure where it is. It simply does not get more secure than that.

Change your password regularly

Use a memorable combination of 15-85 characters comprised of upper and lower case letters, special symbols and ancient Sanscrit. Never write it down, except on the Post-It note taped to your desk. Change it every 14 days.

Never use public wifi

The public wifi at the airport has an incredibly dodgy-looking registration page that keeps crashing. It’s your choice: allow your private data to be instantly hacked, or miss your flight because you couldn’t download your boarding pass?

Implement two-factor authentication

Reverse a decade of quick one-click shopping by waiting to painstakingly input an extra code sent to your old mobile number, giving plenty of time for buyer’s remorse to kick in before the transaction has even concluded.

Update your system regularly

Crucial for combatting ransomware but f**king annoying when you’re just trying to send an email to Tom in finance, so just snooze it for approximately 3,600 days or until your entire identity is stolen and your life savings siphoned from your bank account. But updates can take 20 minutes and you’ll lose all your open tabs.

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A day in the busy life of the Minister for Brexit Opportunities

by Mr Jacob Rees-Mogg Esquire, member for North East Somerset

9 o’clock. I summon my staff for instruction in the crowded intimacy of my chambers. A few appear to be malingering with bouts of the sniffles and I reiterate that there will be no ‘home-working’ on my watch. Nor masks, as these discourage camaraderie.

I explain that as Albion has thrown off the yoke of Brussels, we may seek out trading opportunities hither and yon in their abundance. Add: “It is truffle season, and you are my pigs. The first to present me with a gilt-edged Brexit opportunity will in turn be presented with this shiny sovereign. Now, to work!”

11 o’clock. My in-tray is empty. A good sign, showing that Brexit is Getting Done without delay. Sharpen my quills and enjoy light repose on my chaise longue until luncheon. Nanny has packed me a hamper of prime tuck – good, English fare. Little sates a man like tongue.

1 o’clock. An opportunity! We have agreed an export deal of volcanic rock from the southern Atlantic archipelago of Tristan Da Cunha – three sacks are already on the way with more to come.

This is a masterful compact which will bring hundreds of guineas to the exchequer. And our shipping fleet will be well employed fetching the rock, lying as it does 2,500 northwest of the Falkland Islands, so the symbolism is indisputable. Alleluia! A fig for the Flemish gnomes!

3 o’clock. In-tray stands proudly empty, as despite exaggerated reports of backlogs at Dover, there are none in my department. Brexit in smooth, clockwork motion. How the Continent must envy us.

5 o’clock. The working day ends, though I have made it known unpaid overtime is a moral duty. Nonetheless two of my minions are injured in the stampede to egress. They are so eager to spread the good word about the Lord’s Brexit and the opportunities it affords that they rush out.

I should not like to dampen that ardour, so I merely dock each of them the day’s pay. And so another glorious day of Brexit concludes. Glory! Alleluia! And God save the Queen!