How to live in a house: a guide for millennials, by a posh girl

LABOUR have promised the financially unfortunate from my generation the chance to own a home. Might be tough for some of you who aren’t used to it. Here’s how to live in one: 

Spouse and labrador not included

I know, on the pictures there’s always a hot hubby and a golden lab, but do they actually come with? No. For the staggering sum you’ll pay for a two-bed semi in a grey belt 15 miles from Peterborough, you’d think they could at least chuck in a Shein model. But you have to provide them yourself, like batteries.

Fear not the upstairs

Unlike flats, a house comes with a second tier of rooms above the first, like a box of chocolates. It’s daunting going that high up but you’ll find a cornucopia of activities awaiting you: storing clothes, changing duvet covers, sleeping and even having sex. Although that last doesn’t really go with property ownership.

Weekends are for maintenance

Your binge-watching days are over. From now on, weekends are for sanding skirting boards, unblocking gutters, pointing brickwork and staining fences. If you haven’t Artexed a ceiling the price of your house could crash tomorrow. Never relax.

Dinner parties are compulsory

Dinner parties are where you invite people with no conversational skills over to discuss what they’re eating and school catchments in a perpetual motion machine powered by boredom. Drink as heavily as you like, you’ll still be buoying prices in the area by loudly discussing the lamb tagine.

Expect to be haunted

Ghosts never haunt flats because it’s beneath them, but they’re a fixture in houses. Whether you have a headless lady in your en suite or a Roundhead soldier in the kitchen, just ignore them. Resolving their undead longings could cost up to £35,000, and all they do is roll balls down your hall.

Suppress claustrophobia

All these new houses will have the footprint of a MacBook Air, so learn to hold back your claustrophobia with breathing exercises. Train yourself to duck through doorways and always notify a friend before taking a bath in case you become wedged.

Gardens are deathtraps

As a millennial, you’ve got an extensive list of allergies and intolerances or as you call it ‘a personality’, so a garden full of pollen, nettles and biting insects is a death sentence. Also the wifi is poor out there.

You get to keep the house

Amazingly, once you’ve handed over several times more than it cost to build your house, you’ll own it! At which point you’ll vote for whichever political party vows to stop all housebuilding because then yours will be worth more.

It’s still 250 grand

Labour politicians can’t understand economics, so have no idea their 1.5 million houses won’t send prices tumbling due to supply and demand. But keep saving and one day you may benefit from a future initiative called ‘Tent Cities in Disused Carparks’. Politicians pandering to the youth vote again.

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An entirely speculative fact-free guide to which celebrities are definitely on Ozempic

FIRMLY convinced that, with no experience, you have the uncanny ability to spot which celebrities are using weight-loss drug Ozempic? Go ahead: 

Jennifer Aniston, definitely

Exactly the kind of celebrity who’s always in those magazines anyway, Aniston is definitely on Ozempic despite seemingly suffering no recent weight issues and not looking particularly gaunt. Nonetheless, the Friends star is too vain not to be, at a guess.

Kate Winslet, for sure

Dogged by unhappiness about her weight ever since the tabloids made that up post-Titanic, Winslet is also woke. So her taking the slimming shot is an act of outright hypocrisy about which she should be ashamed. That’s why she denies it and is hiding her new figure under baggy clothing.

MC Hammer, without a doubt

34 years on from Please Hammer Don’t Hurt ‘Em the album and movie, the charismatic bespectacled US Mr Motivator is a shadow of his former self. His bloated form now fills out his baggy pants only too well. Ozempic is his last, pathetic hope of returning to rap’s A-list.

Meghan Markle, has to be

The sum of all Hollywood’s evil must be using the drug, even though no minor fluctuations in her size have yet been detected by the Mail’s crack 45-journalist team working in shifts day and night to monitor it, because she is too monstrous not to be. And who’s paying for it? Your taxes.

The Rt Hon Lord Pickles, obviously

Former Tory chair Lord Eric Pickles has urged his party to take their time electing a new leader. Why? Because he’s on the Ozzy and intends to stride into the room weighing a svelte 11 stone, stunning opponents with his electorate-friendly look, and win at a canter.

Posh Spice, bloody typical

Christ, is she not thin enough? Half a century of being an ectomorph and now she’s injecting Ozempic? What does she want, to dissolve into the air?

Paul Hollywood, why not

Presenting Bake-Off then, when the production team’s back are turned, slumped in his car jacking up a hit of a miracle slimming drug? Sleazy, two-faced and exactly like him. You don’t need evidence. From now on every time you see him on TV, nudge your companion and say ‘You know how he looks like that, don’t you. Ozempic.’