What's going to happen in the rest of 2020

THIS year started badly, very quickly got much, much worse, briefly levelled out and is now plunging again. Here’s what’s coming up: 


Allowed to proceed for the mental health of the nation’s sweet-obsessed children. Sweets will be exchanged by fishing net, slingshot or trebuchet, and kids will dress up as their hollow-eyed zombie parents who’ve just learned schools are closing again.


Mandatory fireworks displays held up and down the UK in honour of the NHS, unfortunately using up all the budget allocated for more hospital beds, PPE and pay rises. In a not-entirely-unexpected finale, Boris Johnson takes off to outer space in his escape rocket, the £100bn ‘Moonshot’.


His rocket having crash-landed in Northumberland and declared a ‘dead issue’ that ‘the media needs to move on from’, the prime minister is disappointed that no national celebrations are held for the anniversary of his election on December 12th. Blames BBC and abolishes it.


Parents try to explain how Father Christmas is not a Covid risk, fail, and say ‘he’s not real’. Bullshitting of legendary proportions allows festivities to occur as usual with a cast-iron excuse to not invite flatulent, racist elderly relatives who eat all the green triangles from the Quality Street.

New Year

Banned from meeting any friends, Britain is hugely relieved to be given official government permission to have a shit night. Jools’s Hootenanny cannot be filmed due to social distancing, which turns out to be the biggest reprieve of the year.

No Deal Brexit 

2021 also sees the UK sever trade ties with everyone it trades with. The lack of joyous revelling is blamed on the high level of respect for the government’s latest Covid rules, rather than everyone being morosely aware that 2020 will in retrospect look like the good times.

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The middle class guide to talking to your supermarket delivery man

UNSURE what to say to the working class man, or occasionally woman, who brings your massive supermarket delivery round? Try these convincingly matey conversations.

Take a weird interest in their working day

Handy if you’re not sure what to say to the plebeian on your doorstep. Find out when their shift ends, how many deliveries they do an hour, and so on. Don’t worry that it’s a bit strange and you’d never ask, say, an HR person to outline their entire working day in mind-numbing detail.

Assume they’re going to the pub afterwards

“Off to the pub later?” shows you have the common touch. There’s no way a delivery person could be offended by the suggestion that they start hammering the booze the second they finish work.

Pathetically mention your own manual labour

If you’ve been sitting at a desk all day while they’ve been lugging heavy crates around, randomly mention some physical task you’ve recently done yourself, eg. digging up a shrub. It will make the conversation confusing, but will stop you feeling like an effete office weakling.

Swot up on working class pursuits 

To help you converse with your class inferior, make a mental note of any important football games taking place that day/evening, and ask if they are watching them. Here are some other things that working class people love: Coronation Street, pub skittles, chips with curry sauce, Love Island, hare coursing.

Kick up a fuss about a minor substitution

Ruin all your earlier good work by going ballistic when there’s a minor change to your order. It’s all very well attempting to bond with the lower orders, but there is no damn excuse for bringing you ordinary artichoke hearts in water when you asked for organic ones in oil with a hint of parsley.