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My life in Khan's London under sharia law, by a 28-year-old marketing consultant

AS ALL non-Londoners and Donald Trump know, Sadiq Khan brought London under sharia law in 2016. One brave resident writes a diary of his daily oppression:

6.12am

Awakened by the muezzin issuing the call to prayer. Well not strictly, as we don’t have a mosque in Esher, but I do have to get the 7.22 train to Waterloo which means a pre-dawn alarm. Feel strongly this is Islam’s fault.

7.45am

Disembark the train, lamenting the necessity for women to be covered from head to toe because of Khan’s laws and also because it’s getting cold out. No, their faces weren’t covered but they were in noise-cancelling headphones which are the burkas of the mind.

10am

Forced to fast until now because ‘that’s when my break is’ according to Carla my boss and Mohammed, probably. Go to get myself a bacon sandwich, reflecting bitterly that before Sharia I could do this unimpeded, and now it’s gone up to a ridiculous £5.65.

12.50pm

Go for lunch and am forced, according to Sharia, to make a donation to the poor which is a quid to the bloke begging by the cashpoint. This is the worst tyranny ever visited on man.

13.10pm

Self-checkout doesn’t register my Shaken Udder Vanillalicious. Under an equitable British system I’d walk out with it unpaid, but in Khan’s London l’d get my hand severed by the bloke behind the counter, who looks Arabic. Or similar. And he’s not behind the counter but stacking the shelves and I have to wave at him to notice me, but it’s the same thing.

2.18pm

The afternoons are so long and boring under Sharia law, with the only permitted entertainment reading the Koran. I assume that’s what Carla meant when she said ‘stop going on f**king Reddit’ anyway.

5pm

Finish work and head home, heavy with the knowledge there are two more calls to prayer before bed, one during a much-anticipated repeat of Sun, Sea and Selling Houses so that’s ruined. Struggle under the weight of Islamic oppression. Check the Metro for tonight’s stonings and there aren’t any. Truly this is the worst of both worlds.

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Take your kids to McDonald's, and other ways to feel divorced even when you're not

SOME activities bear an inexplicable air of failed marriage about them. Dip your toes in the sad waters of divorce by doing the following:

Take your kids to McDonald’s

The perfect way to simulate the experience of an ex-husband going through a rough patch. Your lack of culinary skills and inability to think of fun things to do leads you straight to the golden arches. At least you can put an end to this single-parent charade by taking them back home, so your competent spouse can cook them some vegetables.

Get a new haircut

Suddenly caring about your appearance and attempting to reinvent yourself is classic divorcee behaviour. Trick yourself and your barber into thinking your wife has filed papers by asking for a number one with a tapered fade. Then go home and show your partner the new you and have a lovely argument about how shit you look.

Visit an art gallery

Take a trip to an alternate reality in which you have the time and freedom to enjoy cultural enrichment by staring at some paintings you don’t understand. The happy couples all around you gazing at masterpieces bring a tear to your eye as they remind you of everything you’ve lost. Then remember you still have your own family and start crying for an entirely different reason.

Dine out alone

Perhaps you’re away on business, perhaps you just really fancied a Wagamamas. Regardless, a table-for-one makes it hard to shake the feeling that your family has abandoned you and that you must now come to terms with your tragic solitary existence. For added realism, eat as slowly as possible in order to delay returning to the tiny, freezing bedsit which awaits you.

Let your partner go away for the weekend

Get a taste of appalling responsibility by letting your partner spend the weekend with their mates. Now it’s ‘your turn to have the kids’ and you have to sort their meals, clothes and homework. It’s manic, it’s stressful, and it’s how she feels every Sunday when you go for a three-hour bike ride.

Post a far-right rant on social media

Capture that divorced dad energy with a toxic tirade on the internet platform of your choice. Why would you be doing this unless you had nothing left to lose? Pretend there’s no reason to hold it all in anymore and let rip with the truth about migrants, diversity targets, and how NATO poked the Russian bear. Caution: will probably lead to actual divorce.

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